Why I don't dance with you more

An acquaintance of mine would like me to dance with her more.  Her tactic is complaining to me that she never gets asked to dance.  She bugs me about not asking her more in a kidding/not kidding kind of way.  She also says things like "I don't know why I come out no one ever asks me to dance" and "I only danced two tandas, that's $5 per tanda " (milonga cover charge was $10).  She complains a lot - about the music, and the men, and the venue, and even her health.

I always dance one tanda with her since she's been friendly to me and was kind enough to help get me out of my introverted shell a bit, so I feel like I owe her one tanda.  But only one.

There's a lot of things that I can't say charitably, so I keep my mouth shut.  But here's what I'm thinking, more or less from worst to best:

The fact is that you drink a bit, and even when sober you lean on your partner a lot.  Now if you were an older woman who is just physically unable to maintain your axis, that would be one thing, but I don't believe that to be the case.  I don't know if you're unaware that you're not on your axis (I wasn't, for a frightfully long time), but the result is that your partner is going to be severely limited in what he can attempt, and he's going to be physically taxed by holding you up more or less continuously for 10 minutes.  Dancing with you is more work than joy, and men's choices of partner will reflect that.

You complained that the very, very good dancer at the milonga didn't hold you like he was holding his current partner (at the time you were complaining).  First of all, if I were a woman, I'd be flattered and happy just to dance with the man in question, because he's creative and moves wonderfully and even though he's very, very good (can you tell I'm a fan?) he dances with everybody.  But never mind that.  First of all, his current partner is a slender woman who is completely on her axis and is in control of her body at all times, and is a very, very good dancer in her own right.  He holds her accordingly.  If you want him to hold you like he's holding her, then lose some weight and get on your axis, and practice.

We spent about 10 minutes dancing, and you spent at least 15 minutes before and 15 minutes after complaining about your lot.  I'm seeking to minimize my interactions with you.

I'm an open embrace dancer, because I'm shy and It's what I'm used to.  You'll dance open embrace grudgingly (and complainingly), but you obviously prefer close embrace.  I don't have anything against close embrace, it's just not what I prefer to do.  Perhaps as I become more skilled and experienced (and less shy) I will be able to do either, but I have a very difficult time leading in close embrace and so in that regard we're just not the best match for each other.

This is America, and women are alleged to be empowered here, we have equality, etc etc.  Ask someone to dance.  I know it's daunting - I'm shy and I find asking strangers and even acquaintances uncomfortable.  Even if they accept (which they mostly do).  But that's one way you can get more dances.

There are a lot of women who want to dance at the milonga, and usually more women than men.  This means that you are going to have to play nice and share, and it also means that you have to compete to be the most pleasant option compared to your peers.  I may have mentioned some ways you can improve your odds above.  But even then, you're not going to dance every song.

I watched two particular women you were competing with that same night.  One is a young (mid twenties) enthusiastic intermediate dancer and improving rapidly (because she works at it).  She's in control of her axis most of the time, and she's also trim and pretty and she laughs a lot and is always having and sharing a good time.

The other is a woman in her late forties, who's an incredibly skilled and amazing dancer (because she has dedicated decades to practice), and she is trim and fit and beautiful and makes a point to do more than her fair share of what it takes to make a beautiful dance.

The younger woman danced about five or six tandas.  She probably could have danced more but she was spending a lot of time being a social butterfly.  I've interacted with her when she was doing so, and I can tell you she's charming and happy and pleasant to be around.

The older, more skilled woman only danced three or four tandas.  She wasn't asked.  I personally didn't ask her because she intimidates me (it's not her, it's me).  I don't know why others don't ask her more, but the fact is that no one dances every song.

You seem to think that paying your admission to the milonga guarantees you lots of dances.  The nerds would say that's "necessary but not sufficient".  You must do much much more than that (and frankly, less of what you're doing now).

Good luck.

How I started with Argentine Tango

Don't know these folks, but a hell of a pic!

For the last several months, I've been spending the majority of my time dancing Argentine Tango.  This was kind of unexpected, but has been an amazing experience.

When I started dancing, my motivations were Tango (American tango, that is - hey, "Scent of a Woman" was an amazing movie...), and Waltz (actually, Viennese waltz).  Tango seemed so passionate and dramatic and sexy, and Waltz so flowing and graceful.  Plus I'm a sucker for a waltz, musically.  Those of you who have danced a bit will realize that both of these these are difficult dances.  You don't generally even start learning Viennese waltz until your slow waltz is pretty decent, and Tango is called "The dancers' dance".  So my first problem is two difficult dances tied for "most favorite".

My next problem was that my second favorite dance was "everything".  Rumba is so intimate and sexy.  Swing is so much peppy fun.  Cha cha is a blast and there's so much great  cha cha  music.  Salsa is so spicy and sexy and social.  So I spent a lot of time jumping around, which is not the most efficient way for me to learn, personally....

The dance I learned quickest, and that seemed most natural to me was swing - starting at jitterbug, and then moving on to East Coast.  Now I know what you're thinking - what does this all have to do with Tango?  Well, as it turns out my introduction to Argentine tango wasn't through American tango as you'd expect, it was via East Coast Swing.  Strange but true.

After I'd been dancing about a year, I decided to do a showcase performance at my studio, mostly to overcome my shyness.  My East Coast Swing seemed like it was coming along pretty well and there was a song I liked that would work, so I asked a fellow student to prepare and perform with me.  We had about four months to get ready, and it turned out well, but the whole time we were working on the routine, my partner was going on and on about Tango.  Argentine Tango, which apparently was different than "Tango" I was learning.  My partner was a trouper and put in a lot of extra time and work, so I definitely owed her.

Once the performance was in the bag, I finally had no excuse to keep her focused on East Coast Swing, and it was finally time to see what this Argentine Tango thing was all about.  Man was I in for a shock.

First we went to a Milonga, which I still think of as the Spanish word for "sock hop", mostly because it amuses me.  But initially it was more confusing than amusing.  The prevalent style of Argentine Tango at this event involved dancing in a very close embrace.  I was way, way too shy for that.  Secondly, I could tell that the relationship between the beat and the steps was way, way looser in Argentine than in any other partner dance I'd seen.    I could see that the dancers' movement was informed by the music, but not in a "one, two, cha cha cha" sort of way.  Both of these were way outside my comfort zone.

Next we went to a class.  We had to go to a different, funky little studio because the one we were studying at was focused on mainstream ballroom and didn't do much Argentine Tango.  So we head over to the new studio and were watching the previous class that was just finishing up.  I was relieved to learn that I didn't HAVE to dance in close embrace, there's an open embrace alternative.

But when we started learning the basic figure "La Salida", it started with the leader's right foot - which is to say, the wrong foot from a ballroom perspective.  Every ballroom dance in the world starts with the leader's left foot, the ladies right ("Ladies are always right, Men are left.").  Worse, it didn't always start with that foot.  In fact, Argentine tango is so improvisational that every step is a whole new world, anything can happen at any time.  There are figures, both for the purpose of categorization and teaching, and just because certain sequences make beautiful dance phrases, but nothing is set in stone - you can improvise anything at any time.  Which means, if you're a leader, that you HAVE TO improvise things all the time.

Another consequence of the fact that Argentine tango is so improvisational and unpredictable, and can start on any foot at any time, is that the leader has to either know what foot the lady is on, or be able to lead her onto the other foot (often without taking a step), or both.  This really blew my mind,  I could barely ensure that I was on the right foot, now I'm supposed to keep track of what foot she's on?  Inconceivable! There was also a lot of attention paid to whether you collected your feet, or collected your feet and changed weight to the other foot.  No other dance does this as early and as much as Argentine Tango (well, the last step in the American tango's "Tango close" does it, because, of course, it was stolen from Argentine.  But other than that...)  There was also a lot of stepping outside partner, which I had basically never done in other dances at the time.  And, just in case there was a corner of my mind unblown, my partner helpfully added another detail as we were practicing:

Her:  "Actually, you're supposed to touch my foot with yours right there..."
Me:    "Wait, what???"
Her:   "Touch the side of my foot with the side of yours"
Me:     "Are you kidding?  I'm supposed to look down, find your foot and touch it with mine?  We'll run into the other dancers!"
Her:  "No, without looking down"
Me:   "Well, then you're going to lose some toes....."

So let's see what's on the scorecard so far:

1.  Likely to involve an intimidatingly close embrace
2.  Starts on the wrong foot.  Often.
3.  Doesn't ALWAYS start on the wrong foot.
4.  Closing feet often DOESN'T include changing weight
5.  I've got to lead a totally improvisational dance
6.  I have to step outside partner.  A lot.  But not always...
7.  I've got to know what foot she's on
8.  I've got to know where her feet are at all times because
9.  I have to be able to touch her foot with mine without looking.  And without maiming her

All this while leading, navigating the line of dance (which, fortunately, was the same direction I was used to), and avoiding other dancers doing unpredictable, improvisational things, sometimes on purpose.  And not falling over, getting my own frame, steps, spacing right, etc, etc.  The usual.

Another factor that I haven't mentioned yet is that it's quite common in Argentine tango to cross your ankles as a step - way more common than it is in other dances, and this may or may not involve a weight change (of course).  Fortunately for me, this is much more prevalent for the ladies than the men, especially at the introductory levels.  There are other difficulties that fall more heavily or uniquely on the women, like being prepared to FOLLOW a totally improvisational dance, but at the time I had my hands full dealing with my own problems.

There were more challenges to come, but at the time, the list above was plenty.

Initially I planned to go just a few times to humor my partner (she really had been a trouper) and then fade on back into my comfort zone, but it didn't work out that way.  The funky little studio offered a discount for pre-purchasing 10 classes so I did that.  By the time I'd done 10 classes, I was adapting to most of the challenges, and it was starting to be fun.  I was starting to correctly guess which foot she was on at least 50% of the time (Yes, it seems like you'd do that well by purely random chance, but believe me, it's easy to do much, much worse than random, particularly at the beginning).  I was starting to get the hang of controlling my weight changes, starting to learn the basic figures, and the infinite variations on them, and kind of enjoying the freedom and creativity involved in that level of improvisation.  And it didn't hurt that one of my favorite and deepest practice partners was simply obsessed with Argentine tango.  So I ended up going more than I thought I would.


So that's how I got started.  Soon I'll talk about why I kept going back, and what it taught me that I didn't know I needed, and how that helped me in all my other dancing.

The hardest move in dancing

is stepping onto the dance floor.  In public.

For me, anyway.

One of the reasons I resisted learning to dance for so long, and so stubbornly is my vanity.  I hate to fail.  I particularly hate to fail in public.

 

That's also the main reason I started by taking lessons at the dance studio rather than just showing up at the dance club and trying to copy the moves.  Or going to dancing meetups and learning there.  Or free lessons at the local honky-tonk.  The Dance studio is still my main outlet, though.

The more people are there, the less comfortable I am.  The more I feel they are watching me, the less comfortable I am.   The better the other dancers are, the less comfortable I am. 

If the other dancers are drunk, that helps me a bit, sad to say.  If I feel like I'm pretty decent at the dance in question, that helps too.  If I feel like I'm better than the average other dancer who's there, that helps.   Told you I was vain.

That "feeling confident about a dance" thing is recent. And fleeting.  Right now the chances of running into a better dancer (or several) at any random venue is essentially 100%.  And that's at the country place, where dancing is playing third fiddle to drinking and carousing.  In a Salsa club, very nearly every single person there is not only better than I am, but a LOT bett er than I am.  Some of them are stratospherically better.  Those people are SERIOUS about dancing and basically don't drink (which, I'm told, is why "Lets have a Salsa night" is often the last desperate act of a bar that's slowly dying...  I believe it too, the bar where I got hooked by the DanceEvangelista is now a Mexican Restaurant)

 I know there are people that are comfortable in the spotlight, I've met them.  Some I admire, others intimidate me, others just seem like some kind of alien.

But it's not me.  When I take the Meyers-Briggs personality test I score 75-85% Introverted.  And I've learned recently that I've got a triple threat - I'm Introverted, Quiet, and Shy.  Plus I'm definitely not a naturally graceful, instinctive athlete.  Quadruple threat.

Heck, I'm most nearly comfortable with private lessons (one person watching me fail, and she's a professional being paid to be understanding), less comfortable with group lessons (there's like 8 or 10 people in there!), even less comfortable with practice parties at the dance studio (a couple of dozen people, some of whom are VERY good dancers), and least comfortable with dancing in Real Life (panic!).  I've spent hours at dancing venues where people are dancing and all I can bring myself to do is watch.  I got into a conversation about this the other night at a swing dance when a woman noticed that I was mostly watching, and asked me about it.  She approached me, of course.  We had a nice chat, I'm pretty comfortable with words...

The best way to estimate how painful this is, is, notice how much the dance studios can charge for their services, their expertise, and most of all, their emotionally safe learning environment.   People say all sorts of things, but their true feelings are shown by how they spend their money.  And I'm happy to pay it, I prefer it to the many free options available.  Still, I think this price is actually is a low estimate.  I spent years avoiding social venues in general, and dancing specifically, rather than pay the cost in money and feeling uncomfortable.  That's cost me more than my dance hall dues, and there's no way to quantify that.

But I'm working on it.  Even just trying different studios, with different people is a challenge, but I'm doing it.  I've joined a couple of dancing clubs and I'm going to their classes and events.  I even did a couple of performance pieces at my home dance studio a few months back, and I've got another coming up (yes, I need to blog about this, but this is, in fact, one of several things that have kept me too busy to blog....)    I'm trying to get out to social dances regularly, and for the most part, I'm there (Often, I'm there standing with my back against the wall, but I'm there....)

There is no way around.  The only way is through.

Tango Face. Waltz Face. Noob Face.

About face

Dancing is so much about the details.

Tango face:  Tango is dramatic and passionate and serious.  Grinning takes away from the drama of the performance.  So you'll hear things like "get your tango face on!" from dancers.  It's encouragement and correction.  It's a light-hearted funny little in-joke and they're mostly kidding.  Mostly. 

It's just one of the hundreds of little details that you have to learn and get right if you're going to be any good.  Or even decent.  I love the hell out of the Tango, and whenever I'm tangoing, I'm grinning like a fool - I can't help it, I'm just having too much fun.  When some one tells me to get my tango face on, I laugh.  It's on my list of things to work on, I swear.

I only think about my tango face because it's a running joke.  I'm sure my facial expressions while dancing include "thinking too hard", "not getting it", and the ever popular "Please stand by while smoke comes out of my ears and my brain reboots".  Occasionally, "Hey, this is a lot of fun!" and "that went pretty well"  and "I actually know how do do this - mostly".  And, of course "wow, that was amazing!"  and "I really, really want to learn how to do that" - These last two while watching others, of course.

But in general, I have no idea what my face is doing while I dance. For once in my life, I'm not watching myself, censoring myself, monitoring myself and judging myself.  Mostly.  Most of my time I'm very self-conscious, and occasionally on the dance floor, or in the dojo, I'll just let myself be whatever I am.  Not often, I'm way too cautious for that.  But if I get busy enough, or am thinking hard enough, or am distracted and engaged enough, I quit watching myself, briefly.  The point of Dancing (one of them), is getting out of my head.  Sometimes I make it out.

And then they pull me right back in.  In a recent group Waltz class, we had a full, unbalanced house and two of the gentlemen had to take turns sitting out or dancing solo while the rest of us danced with the ladies there.  I was doing the dancing solo thing, I need all the drilling I can get.  Then we rotated and I got a partner again.  The Young Turk (who's a much better dancer than I, because he practices like a fiend) was partnerless, and was amusing himself by watching the other dancers.  Including me.  I was working the figure with my partner and was getting it, I thought.

He laughed and said "You just had the dorkiest expression on your face!".  My partner laughed, too, which I took as agreement.   Dang, I need to figure out my frame, footwork, leading, floorcraft, rise and fall, timing, and now I need a waltz face?


Apparently.

Thanks, buddy.  Thanks a lot.