Take That, One Heart, You Bastard!

What would you like to work on today? Grisha asks.

I keep a list. It says things like sacadas and Gustavo turn.

Today I did not consult the list.

Today I hemmed and hawed. Looked out the window. There’s a nice bit of lawn. What I want is so off the wall I don’t really know how to ask. I know what I want, exactly, but I can’t form the words. Several disjointed sentences later, it boils down to this: Self-defense.

Why not?

I have faced what The Mathematician would describe as a philosophical dilemma with practical implications: What to do in the face of leads’ bad behavior?

If a woman joins tango she should expect… a favorite lead begins.

At my protest he backs off. A little.

…she should not be surprised … he concedes.

I think he really still means what he first said. Lots of men—and women--do.

Glenlivet is clear in his thinking: It’s a no-brainer. She shouldn’t expect it, she shouldn’t have to. Men should behave. End of story.

I love it when he talks like that. But I do not live in the world of should. As Keith used to say, with a little less class, you can spit in one hand and wish in the other… and what have you got?

I believe you have something that a guy making advances will probably not like to have wiped on his shirt.

* * *

I have asked Nina many times what to do about men who would rather cuddle than dance. She makes me be the lead. When I squeeze her, she gets big. I don’t know how. She just does.

Today, near the end of the lesson, after we have done sacadas and a clever little adornment that I have failed to practice, Grisha says, What did you want to work on?

First we do Holding Too Tight. I am the lead. He makes himself big. He shows me how. We dance with me big.
Wow! he says. That was the best boleo you’ve ever done! We try it again. Wow-wow! Self-defense and a boleo! Who knew? Things are looking up!

What else? he asks.

I try to explain, but I am nearly incoherent with embarrassment. OK, so what I’m going to do is, I’m going to be the lead and I’m going to give you a sign … earlier today, planning this, I thought I could just say the word “now,” and then he could show me what to do. But here in the moment as my explanation unravels, that seems unlikely to work, so I say I will give you a sign, I will poke you like this—I am holding him like I was the lead, and I jab him in the shoulder blade with my index finger—and then you… you know, you act like you’re me and show me what to do….

I pretend we’re dancing, even though I can’t lead one single step and we are only standing still. I poke him, kind of harder than I was expecting.

He rears back. The look on his face is … Hilarious. Awful. He could be an actor. It is shock and consternation and dislike, even disdain.

That’s great! I say. So I should just look at them like that? That’ll do it? Do I walk away too?

He doesn’t really answer. That look is still on his face. I think we are going to have to try this again.

I am the lead again. Tra-la-la-la-la….POKE!

Grisha pinches the back of my neck. Playfully.

That would never work! I say. They will think I am flirting!

Grisha looks confused.

Why are they poking you? he asks.

No! I say. They are not poking me. I am only poking you because … it’s supposed to be like a surrogate … a signal … You’re supposed to… Now I have worked my way into a corner and a frenzy. Ohmigod! I blurt it out as fast as I can: I am poking you because I am not about to grab your butt.

The look he gives me now is truly amazing.

I think we will dispense with the demo. I explain the problem. We talk it over. No need to repeat the painful details. Here is the upshot:

You walk off. You don’t have to say “Take that, you bastard!” You don’t have to speak at all. You can just go away.

I love that! in theory, but

When I am face-to-face with a fellow human being, I can’t be that way. I can’t think of a time I’ve walked away from someone. I don’t think this is a matter of being a woman. It’s just not in me. I can’t do it.

That’s that.

This is the way I was raised: If you don’t do something well the first time you try it, you never will. Move on. Try something else.

I do not wish to try something else. I wish to stick with tango.

Hmm…

Two years ago, I couldn’t stand up in my tango shoes.

I need practice.

I am going to call Kari.