It happens. A rough night. A beautiful milonga danced badly. Saturday, my legs felt like anvils. I know I must have felt so heavy and unresponsive to my leaders. After the 3rd or 4th time scraping my heel across the top of my other foot, I knew it was time to call a spade, a spade. I could hardly pick up my feet, let alone dance. Even the two leaders I love dancing with most had trouble leading me. One of them told me so, and even though I knew it was true, it stung terribly. It seemed I wasn't following anything correctly. There were so many people I'd hoped to dance with that night. Now I was dreading making eye contact with anyone.
My last dance was with B., a partner I didn't know well - we'd only danced once before. I told him I was still such a beginner and getting very worn out. He smiled slightly and said that's okay, we'll just walk. And we did. I was so soothed by gentle walking, the occasional small ochos and turns. I hadn't noticed the first time I'd danced with him what a beautiful tango walk he has - and I told him so. I'm sure I felt heavy and awkward to him too, but for one tanda I didn't feel like it.
After dancing with B., I thanked my friends and made my way to the door.
"El infinito tango me lleva hacia todo" - Borges
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