Despair
Okay.
This must have been the single worst night of my entire tango existance. This place must be jinxed for me. Nothing ever goes right when I attend their milongas. It’s not as if nothing happened. It’s not as if I were stuck sitting. It would have been better if I were completely ignored the whole night. But lots of “stuff” did happen. I am just not quite sure if the “stuff” was “dancing”.
My back aches. My left ankle is swollen. My bra strap is undone! No thanks to horrible, violent, drunken (yes, drunken! Can you believe it??) leaders who kept tugging at my back and shirt (snap! goes the bra during the Cumparsita), and digging their fingers into my spine, throwing me backwards as if I were a basketball, using me as a dancing pole for their fucking sacadas they want to show off and cannot, absolutely cannot execute themselves. And I have never, in my life, been forced to do molinetes that fast, the guys pushed me around them as if I were a piece of heavy furniture scraping along the floor…
You know, I even got to dance to Canaro’s Poema? But I feel violated — wronged — because my first time dancing to this exquisite song was a neverending nightmare with a man who smelled like mothballs and rotten eggs, who sweated like a pig and ignored the music and almost drove me into the cement column, and into madness.
Remind me to take pictures of these animals with my cell phone, so I could memorize their faces and never, ever dance with them again, as long as I live. I couldn’t wait to get out of there after that last dance, didn’t even change my shoes, almost ran out into the street in my stilettos, to feel the drops of rain on my face, to breathe in the fresh air.
Does anyone have a milonga or a place they will never go back to, because it seems like it is cursed? Has there ever been a time when every single tanda was so terrible, that you felt like crying afterwards, from the trauma?
I will never go back to that horrible place. Ever.
It makes me sick.
A. had sent me a message to see how my night was going (most of my friends are fellow insomniacs). I called him out, walked over to his atelier, and we shared a nice long cigarette together on his stoop, in silence, watching the maple branches swaying on his quiet tree-lined avenue in Chelsea.
As I walked back home, I chained another cigarette I had stolen from his pack before wishing him good night. When he kissed me on the cheek, I could smell fresh, clean paint.
(I guess I’m back to smoking again.)
So sorry to hear that you have had a bad night. I was going to go to the Charity milonga in the village,but I felt into sleep after dinner and didn’t make it.
Please don’t go back in the bad habit after bad experience in the milonga, or in life to an extend. Do something that is good for yourself, worship your own body like a temple.
nyctangojunkie
15 September 2007 at 6:03 am
So sorry Nuit…that you had such a bad night with bad leads at this milonga. Can you say which one it is? Perhaps I should avoid it when I finally make to NYC to dance…
Canaro’s Poema…so sad to experience despair…nightmares…mothballs and rotten eggs…such a beautiful song…all dances to this song should be as close to “life altering” as possible…so sad…
write to me through my flickr account (my pics in my posts)… I want to send you something… a song… on par with Poema… a piano solo of Malena… a gift… a small token to take the sting away from last night…
Alex
15 September 2007 at 7:50 am
dearest alex,
the women at the milonga were very good dancers, i must say. there were a few very crisp leaders, too, i did see some women have a geat time with them. i really think it’s an unlucky place for me… i always get stuck with the crazies there.
when you come to nyc (come soon!), and go to this milonga, you should be fine — you will have a good time. the good women dancers are very eye-catching, and you should have no problem getting good dances. :)
La Nuit Blanche
15 September 2007 at 1:01 pm
Chere Nuit,
I hope this new day finds you recovered from your torturous night. Of course I am indignant on your behalf.
Those men are sleepwalking through life. They have no clue about what priceless jewel they hold in their hands. Never give them a second opportunity to find out.
I think the more I delve into tango, I find that I am dancing less. And yes, every venue attracts a certain crowd. It looks like you’ve found one to avoid and there’s no need to experiment there again. Save your beautiful self for the situations where you will be appreciated to the fullest. You owe yourself that. Tango makes you put so much of yourself on the line.
nyctangojunkie is right: do something good for yourself. Remember that people all over the world are sending you comfort. Especially in SF!
xoxo
tangobaby
15 September 2007 at 8:49 pm
Oh, Nuit. You are but a Little Grasshopper at the beginning of a long Tango journey. Never say ever. Or Never. Ever!
Many, many, MANY more milongas and tandas are in your future, and this will be but an unremembered blip amidst the Tango bliss.
So Tango on, dear Nuit, and forget the Elevator Man and He Who Digs Deep Into My Back With Bony Fingers. They know – and mean – nothing.
Johanna
15 September 2007 at 9:11 pm
Hi Nuit, I’m sorry to hear…!!! It sounds awful. I’m concerned, too, as to which milonga this is, since I sometimes go to NY to dance… anyway you can give some warning words to this Tanguera?
Tanguera
15 September 2007 at 9:34 pm
Hi Nuit, was this friday night? I think we were at the same milonga because I had a terrible night there too. There were a lot of beginner leaders. After my third one, I called it a night. I hope you didn’t dance a full tanda with those animals. I remembered one of those sweaty moth ball smelling pigs threw my back out one night… it ached for a week. That’s when I stopped being nice. I’m sorry you had a bad night… rest up. Tomorrow will be a new day for some good tango.
Besos,
Eva
Eva
16 September 2007 at 6:30 am
Nuit, I have a yo-yo relationship with cigarettes, too… being an insomniac, and a lover of social drinking, goes with the territory…
I have felt this way many times about EVERY SINGLE MILONGA. I’ve left in a huff saying F*CK F*CK F*CK F*CK FICK!!! Funny, in retrospect… but not in the moment, for sure.
You will go back. And It will come to you. It’s just being a cat, slow and evasive and aloof. *kiss*
Coleen
16 September 2007 at 5:01 pm
dear friends,
thank you so much for your sympathy and wisdom, and your kind thoughts. i went out dancing again the next night, to exorcise what had happened (my first poema, ruined!). and the only thing that got me out of the door were you guys.
TJ, yes i did something special for myself, worshipped my body like a temple, hehe. i bought a new pair of CIF last night!
johanna, it’s very true, i am a grasshopper! a tadpole. a caterpillar… tango engages so much of my deepest being, it’s easy for one bad night to ruin the whole week for me. i will look to the future, and hope for the tandas to come… meanwhile, i will keep listening to canaro, and dream. :)
eva, yes, i think it must have been the same night, there were a lot of beginners on the floor. i guess in B.A., there are fewer excuses for cutting a tanda short — i imagine the quality of dancing to be far superior, and milonga etiquette to be more established in the culture so that men are much more refined. new york, however, is a different world altogether. high-heeled women have to put up with so much B.S. over here!
colleen, i think i am having one of those weeks, when i can’t stop saying F*CK F*CK F*CK F*CK!!! i went to two more milongas after this post, and both were so-so, although not as terrifyingly horrible. i love your cat analogy — right now, it is peeping its eyes at me, tauntingly.
tangobaby, we must hold a meeting of the tango sisterhood as soon as possible. the whole coven can stay with me in my charming one-bedroom apartment, which is walking distance to most of the milongas here in NYC. maybe A. will be inspired to paint our portrait, while we get drunk on potions made of marshmellows and lemon chocolate. and i will bring out my 4X5 view camera, and take photographs of each one of us in all our bewitching splendor, before we head out to greet the night, upon which, we will each meet our respective tango gods, and revel in tandas full of blissful entrega…
alchemy and magic? only with you guys!
love,
nuit.
La Nuit Blanche
16 September 2007 at 11:57 pm
Ah, honey. I can’t wait.
Coleen
17 September 2007 at 1:17 am
Marshmellows and lemon chocolate. Wow, that is the best idea I have read lately. Going to try that tonight.
Blake
17 September 2007 at 11:35 am
Another pair of CIF! Girl, you are gonna get a lot jealous look in the milongas. What color is it this time? My parter can’t stop talking about the red CIF that she doesn’t own.
We had a nice “poema” at Sunday practica, in our socks. We were about to leave. We didn’t have time to change back to our shoes while M played it. We wanted to dance every single note of this beautiful tango.
Hope to have a nice “poema” with you soon.
TJ
NYCTangoJunkie
17 September 2007 at 12:59 pm