The Perfect Trifecta

“So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.” -  Slyvia Plath

When the dust finally settled from the departure of my beloved Miss Cassie I returned to tango with the urging of a great friend. I am so very happy to be dancing again – even more so at the moment because I’ve been experiencing withdrawal symptoms due to the gift that keeps on giving: the wretched flu. The damn thing knocked me on my arse for a little over a week.

Since returning to tango I’ve had an entire new set of observations. Perhaps the most startling epiphany was the realization of how very shy I actually am. It’s a bizarre thing. I’m outgoing enough. I make a point of talking to people who are obviously new to tango, have come alone, or are just having a tough night. What’s killing me at the moment is the cabaceo. I only dance with a person I’m comfortable with – which is generally with men who are old enough to be my father. It’s my comfort zone.  I find myself not only making extreme attempts to avoid eye contact with a lot of people, but also blushing and quickly turning away if eye contact is accidentally made.

I do this, too. Lame.

I’ve reflected a little on my strange reaction to men my age. The only conclusion I can come to is that my male counterparts intimidate me. I don’t pretend to know why and I foresee more years of therapy in my near future. I have to remind myself from time to time that I have come a long way. There was a time I couldn’t bear to be around a male presence because I was terrified. My only grievance with this part of my personality is that I’m quite certain I come across as a snob and this couldn’t be further from the truth.

I might have been a shark in my past life.

I judge myself enough for ten people. I don’t need anyone else to add to the mix. I recently discovered that one of the trademarks of PTSD is survivor’s guilt. That new little bit of knowledge explained quite a bit. I feel guilty about damn near everything and am always asking ‘Why?’ What have I done in lifetime that warrants the life I have now compared to others who were brought up in similar if not identical situations? I cry for the people I knew who barely survived it and are left with severe emotional scars, a dead end life and drug addictions. I cry for the sister I haven’t seen in nearly 20 years. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. I’m afraid to look because I’m afraid of the answer. I have to keep telling myself that their lives are out of my control and there wasn’t anything I could have done differently to make things better for them. I have to keep repeating that to myself until I finally believe it. I’m not there yet.

"The worst guilt is to accept an unearned guilt." - Ayn Rand

Something else from the tango realm has been a bit of a grievance. Since I’ve returned to tango I’ve crossed paths with a couple of folks that I never cared to see again. It’s not a huge community. It was bound to happen eventually. My grievance is that they ask me to dance. When you know I don’t like or trust you, why bother? I don’t turn them down because I don’t want to make a scene. I dance with them and am on my highest form of alert the entire time. In fact, I’m working extra hard when I dance with them so I’m not the recipient of some a**hat’s short fuse. Not only do they ask me to dance every time they run into me, but they also close embrace me and I do not like it. My assumption is that one person forgot that he did not treat me with kindness when I first started tango and the other is trying to get under my skin in the most underhanded way possible. Still, these are assumptions and not proven truths.

I'd much rather do this when I'm asked to dance by an unsavory character. 

All grievances aside, tango is still something I look forward to every week despite being a wretched shy, blushing thing and catering to a couple of people I really don’t care for. I can’t wait to snuggle up next to one of my favorite people and share a wonderful dance.

An ethereal form of serenity.

I was raving to a friend about tango recently. I had a breakup but wasn’t upset about it because life is so pleasant at the moment. I have a job I love, a basset hound that I adore and tango. As she pointed out, it’s the perfect trifecta. I’m not bothered by being single. In fact, it’s nice to not have someone demanding that I cater to their every whim. It’s nice to have the freedom to do my own thing and just be. It’s a lovely life. Nothing beats a doting dog, a fulfilling job and tango cuddling.

Who could ever resist this face?!

Sometimes I think I should start dating again; this is mainly because the society around me thinks I must be flawed because I’m single. I have issues with this because I have no desire whatsoever to invite another person in my life and anytime the thought of dating even crosses my mind I immediately browse through the dating ads on craigslist just to remind me that there’s mainly smut and bottom feeders waiting for me. No thank you. I’ll take my simple, perfect little trinity.