I used to live right down the street from an Argentine Tango studio. I must have driven past it a thousand times. Then in the summer of '04, on my way to a Cherry Tarts show, I finally stopped in to check it out. Lots of people having fun, younger than me, my age, older. A real social crowd without the usual boundaries. And a free lesson before each dance.
Of course, my life is pretty busy what with being a single parent, business owner, and pilot. It was a couple of months before I asked a friend to go out on a tango date. We had a one hour lesson and a couple of strolls around the dance floor. It was fun. Then we went back to my place and had sex standing up. Ahhh, those were the days . . .
I met a girl a few weeks ago. I asked her out. I mentioned Tango, because I was interested in trying it again, and it turns out she's been tangoing for 3-1/2 years. So again to the tango studio, another lesson, a few more trips around the floor. And, very importantly, I didn't suck. This is something I might get good at. I like being good at things. Especially if they involve holding attractive women close and smelling their hair for hours.
We have another date set after finals are over, in December. Bearing this in mind, I decided to take another few classes so I can show her a couple of fresh moves. My two classes qualify me to push a woman around in a straight line, which can get old after awhile. So, freed of my usual parenting responsibilities this weekend, I looked up some tango classes. One Wednesday night. Then Friday night. Again Saturday night. I would have gone to a three-hour lesson today but I had to go furniture shopping.
For those of you who haven't heard, Argentine Tango is awesome. I think I've found something to keep me busy when the weather sucks and I can't fly. Which would have come in real handy last year when I broke my wrist, because all I had to do with my spare time was pester the girl I was dating for more attention, and yeah that worked REAL well.
So come December I am taking a pretty girl tango dancing, and I am going to be good at it. And again, I will probably not get any horizontal action, but somehow I expect to survive. I mean, intelligent conversation and tango: how can I complain?
Listen to me ramble on. Gotta go get ready for bed. Work, work, work tomorrow.
Of course, my life is pretty busy what with being a single parent, business owner, and pilot. It was a couple of months before I asked a friend to go out on a tango date. We had a one hour lesson and a couple of strolls around the dance floor. It was fun. Then we went back to my place and had sex standing up. Ahhh, those were the days . . .
I met a girl a few weeks ago. I asked her out. I mentioned Tango, because I was interested in trying it again, and it turns out she's been tangoing for 3-1/2 years. So again to the tango studio, another lesson, a few more trips around the floor. And, very importantly, I didn't suck. This is something I might get good at. I like being good at things. Especially if they involve holding attractive women close and smelling their hair for hours.
We have another date set after finals are over, in December. Bearing this in mind, I decided to take another few classes so I can show her a couple of fresh moves. My two classes qualify me to push a woman around in a straight line, which can get old after awhile. So, freed of my usual parenting responsibilities this weekend, I looked up some tango classes. One Wednesday night. Then Friday night. Again Saturday night. I would have gone to a three-hour lesson today but I had to go furniture shopping.
For those of you who haven't heard, Argentine Tango is awesome. I think I've found something to keep me busy when the weather sucks and I can't fly. Which would have come in real handy last year when I broke my wrist, because all I had to do with my spare time was pester the girl I was dating for more attention, and yeah that worked REAL well.
So come December I am taking a pretty girl tango dancing, and I am going to be good at it. And again, I will probably not get any horizontal action, but somehow I expect to survive. I mean, intelligent conversation and tango: how can I complain?
Listen to me ramble on. Gotta go get ready for bed. Work, work, work tomorrow.
cold legs + blanket = warm legs