Miss Tango Manners Is That a Hand on My ...?

Dear Miss Tango Manners:

I can't decide whether to cry or kick someone.

Last night at the Tango Colorado Harvest Moon milonga, I was dancing with a lead who made advances. [Material deleted. All letters are edited for space, tone, and decency.]

Eek!

I almost walked off the dance floor—but that would be bad manners, wouldn’t it?

What drove him to this? Was he carried away by the music? I was wearing a dress. The neckline is only a little immodest and I cannot imagine the sight of my bony chest where cleavage belongs incited such action. What am I doing wrong?

I made a beeline for the exit. I was nearly out the door when ... [Material deleted. All letters are edited, etc.] ... and I'll put him through a fucking brick wall," Glenlivet said. Something like that.

So I didn't run. For the leads who knowingly or not helped me settle down, I still have stars in my eyes. I danced all night, and my feet are feeling the happy effects.

Sincerely,

One Heart Dancing

* * *

Dear One Heart Dancing:

My dear, your letter disturbs me.

When a lead takes liberties reserved for a lover, assuming of course, that he is not your lover, he is mostly likely not carried away. He is most likely suffering a willful lack of self-control.

You must think of him as the freckle-faced boy in third grade who was caught looking up the teacher’s skirt. Did she make allowances, knowing as she must, false modesty aside, that her mellifluous voice surely drives young boys to distraction--even as it does the endless string of men whom she has wrapped around her little finger until it aches from their combined weight--as she read the answers to the spelling test? Did she draw on the wisdom of Freud, Jung, Wittgenstein to weigh the influence of his idcollectiveunconsciouszeitgeist? Did she spare his feelings?

No! She smacked him with a ruler and sent a note home to his mother.

You must be that lead’s teacher.

Miss Tango Manners concedes that it is unlikely you will have a ruler ready to hand as you are on the dance floor. This does not preclude hiding, in the belt of your dress, a flexible willow switch or perhaps a slim leather whip tastefully dyed to match your shoes with a fair-sized stone tied at the end of the lash, something sparkly with facets.

Similarly, it is unlikely you will succeed in contacting this lead’s mother. This does not preclude you from alerting every follower in Tango Colorado to his behavior. Forewarned is forearmed. (Bulk orders 15% off. Discreet shipping $10 per address. Order from iTangoWhip.com.*)

One Heart, you beseech me to tell you in what ways your dress or your you-ness are to blame for this debacle. I believe that you know. You are a wimp. When you adopt that stance with a bad-mannered lead, you are playing into his hand. So to speak, crudely.

You must stop this Eek!ing business. It is time to grow up.

When a lead makes advances upon your body, you must reveal to him a part of your anatomy he may never have seen before: your backbone.

You must resist the urge to think. You’ll only flummox yourself as you second-guess or make excuses for bad behavior. Actions speak loudly. Listen.

Similarly, with your actions enunciate. There is no need to make excuses for dancing in the embrace that is most comfortable for you. Soft-pedaling opens the door to the Wiggle Room. Though Miss Tango Manners generally decries the slamming of doors, in this case she grants an exemption.

Practice saying No. A worldly woman requires a wardrobe of No’s as large as her collection of tango costumes. (As in: I don’t like it when you… or Please stop … or It is hard on my back when you… or That’s uncomfortable for me.) It would behoove you, One Heart, to turn your attention from your manner of dress to your form of address. Your time and talent are best spent fashioning for yourself a veritable wardrobe of ways to say No.

Include in your wardrobe nonverbal refusals, for example, the adornment Graciela Gonzalez demonstrated in Las Vegas. It’s a simple matter of timing and the correct height of the knee.

Work on your technique for walking off the floor. It is part of the wardrobe of No, as fully justified as the hot-pink, fits-like-paint, fringed minidress in your tango closet. Such options are not suitable for everyday use, but one must admit they serve their respective purposes.

Allow me to remind you, One Heart, as you have a tendency to blame yourself for the vagaries of others (which is, let us admit, a pathetic yet amusing attempt to usurp responsibility for their actions and hence claim for yourself the power to control every situation):

The failure here is not of control but of self-control. The failure is not yours.
To put it simply: Your dress is not the culprit.
To put it crudely: It is not the dress that grabbed your ass.

And now, pursuant to the comments deleted from your note (all letters are edited for space, etc.):

Bestow a chaste kiss on the cheek of the jaguar. A beast who frees the mermaid from her earthly prison has earned a boon. Take care to avoid bestowing upon him the fabled kiss that drives men to dash into the sea. It would be quite a long dash from Denver. The other followers will not appreciate the loss of this charming lead.

As your knight in shining armor, Glenlivet would undoubtedly appreciate some token of the lady’s appreciation. In the days of jousts and quests, ladies would gift their champion with a scrap of fabric. That seems a paltry gift. Miss Tango Manners suggests an invitation to coffee.

Now we come to the difficult case. Apparently, Stan has miraculous healing powers. Did not another follower marvel to you on Friday night that the pain in her foot, which had been plaguing her for some time, vanished as she danced with Stan? And did she not confide that the effect was long-lasting … though perhaps beginning to wear off … and perhaps she would need dances periodically throughout the evening to keep the pain at bay?

When one’s contribution is made by nature rather than effort, no thank-you gift is required. The idea of leaving gifts to nature is out of vogue, notwithstanding the cigarettes and gin that, to this day, some tourists leave(and others shamefully scavenge) at the rim of Halemaumau in place of the virgins that were never really sacrificed there.

No. For Stan, Miss Tango Manners must insist that gin and cigarettes and dead virgins are out of the question. Better to offer a gift he can use: 4 hours of practice on Monday. Perhaps you could use this time to perfect Graciela’s adornment.

Best regards,

Miss Tango Manners


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