Beauty Is Truth's Smile

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only love.” – Mother Theresa

I was told this would be a cherished time in my life. While the source of that pearl of wisdom may be right, I just can’t see it right now. Her stance was that men won’t always find me attractive and now that they’re practically throwing themselves at my feet I should relish in it as long as I can. Honestly, I don’t want to and I could care less about the attention.

From the way she talks, one would think I had the face that launched a thousand ships . . .  if you don't know that reference you're dead to me. 

What I’ve wanted – all I’ve wanted is a friend. This is where I have run into snags. I’ve learned that most men and I have a very different definition of what a friend really is. I treat my male friends the same as I treat my female comrades. I’m affectionate – but I have my limits. I do not want to make out with or have sex with a male friend; I think this goes far beyond friendship. Because of this very big misunderstanding, I’ve found myself in situations I don’t want to be in and reasserting my boundaries over and over again. I sound and feel like a broken record.

Those experiences aside, I believe that I have loved until it hurts – it hurt very much; and love is reemerging. I’m not celebrating yet because I know there could be another trigger; and that’s okay. I have experienced myself at my worst. I survived it. I can survive it again. I am beginning to feel like I did before all of the bad memories started to resurface, before I was assaulted, because I felt powerless to stop what was occurring in my life. I’m happy and once again finding joy in even the smallest of things. I’m still working on not thinking I’m going to ruin everything I touch, that nothing good can possibly come my way because my existence is somehow a form of cancer. I don’t know what embedded this thought in my mind. I’ve carried it with me for many years and I’m working really hard to snuff it out.

I have grieved the Beloved. I’m still processing. I’m allowing patience for myself and asking the same from others. I don’t want to find that I’m simply leaping from one thing to another just because my heart was broken for a while. I don’t want someone to attempt to ‘fix’ me. It will come on its own; and time has become my new best friend. I’ve seen him (the Beloved) on a couple of occasions. The last time we ran into each other we weren’t both scrambling for the door to get away from one another; we even exchanged a few words.

I have yet to decide if I’m still grieving him or the memories of him. I said once that no matter the outcome, my time with him would be one of the most cherished. It still is. Despite the ending, it still is. If he’s still searching for that part of himself he was struggling to find, I hope it comes to him.

The Universe has so much more for you, Beloved.

My time of mourning seemed to function as some sort of pheromone – or perhaps it is because I’ve been guarding my heart with tenacity and ferocity. I have no idea why this personality quirk would be attractive to anyone.

This is my future - I have accepted it.

I have learned to resist immediately responding to a compliment from a male with, “f*ck off.” I was told by someone with far more intuition and wisdom than I that I give a lot of love to others and I need to extend that to myself. As I’ve attempted to turn some of that energy inward I’m more open to others and don’t look at them like a rabid guard dog that will attack before they get too close. As I learn to trust myself again, I trust the world around me.

These are my guardians - my guidance when I don't know where to go.

On the note of trust, I met someone several weeks ago at a milonga. He introduced himself and said he was in my tango class. While I smiled and was cordial, I remember thinking to myself, “Yeah right, a**hole! I’ve heard it all before.” Seriously – I have heard it all before. I was extremely guarded and suspicious. As it turns out, he is in my tango class. Damn. It.

He did express interest in me from the beginning. I had grown so tired of the attention, so tired of the lies and so tired of the ingenuine that would do anything just to have my attention for a second. I didn’t want the attention. I didn’t want the connection . . .  I merely wanted to hole myself away for a while.

I can just lay here for a while, right? 

I was honest with him. I wasn’t ready for a relationship and still trying to get over someone. I didn’t understand what had taken place – it was far bigger than I am. I merely wanted space to sort it out. I asked him for friendship; while he expressed his objection, he honored my request and respected the boundaries I set. He’s granted me the space to approach him at my own pace thus far. 

"Beauty is truth's smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror."  - Rabindranath Tagore

Cabaceo

“Flirting is a woman’s trade, one must keep in practice.” – Charlotte Brontë

One of my favorite parts of the tango culture is the ‘cabaceo’. This is how one asks for a dance. I feel like I am honing this down to near perfection. Basically – when two people make eye contact and through a raise of eyebrows or a nod of the head, it is agreed that they will exchange a dance together. I’m not sure if it’s intended to be so, but I add a flirtatious flare to it. I will stare at someone from across the room until I practically burrow a hole into his head. When he can no longer ignore me, I smile coquettishly and raise my eyebrows while slightly gesturing my head to the dance floor. I was recently complimented on my method just because I make it fun.

I will cabaceo you so hard. 

Also, there’s the shoes and dresses. I would be hard pressed to find a woman who does not enjoy an excuse for frilly dresses and shoes.

It seems as though distinct hierarchy exists within the tango community. I haven’t learned how it works exactly – only that there’s a definite ‘in’ crowd and other subsets that  bicker among themselves over what is considered appropriate posture, embrace, footwork, etc. I know some people take this very seriously. I happen to take nothing in life seriously. My experience on this earth is far too short to nitpick at others and I prefer to have fun instead. If there is no fun to be had, I make it happen. Truth.

There are two dancers in the community, both with equally out of the norm styles of dancing. One happens to be very popular, the other is not. He is treated as a pariah within the community and I’ve seen this poor fellow rejected time and time again as he requests dances from women. I’ve always found him fascinating. When I watch him on the dance floor he is experiencing something with the music entirely different from everyone else. I happen to thoroughly enjoy dancing with him because he is so different and also because he’s been so encouraging in my beginning stages of tango.

The popular dancer is someone I’d describe as a live wire – both in his style of dancing and also in his personality. I was equally fascinated by him as I watched him dance. His movements were quick and many; and by the end of the tanda he was often out of the pattern of movement altogether, having created his own track off to a corner somewhere.

I had a discussion with someone about these two dancers. The former was described to me as someone who ‘does not dance tango’ and the latter was described as someone who ‘feels every beat and movement within the music’. From an outsider’s perspective, it all boils down to popularity. Why one style would be accepted over the other is beyond me. I think it’s snobbish and ostracizing. Then again, I’m still a novice and perhaps I know nothing at all.

"Be impeccable with your word. Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love." - Miguel Angel Ruiz

I still don't understand why we continue to do this to one another.

Gradually I’ve been branching out to different tango venues. There was a rather large one on a Thursday evening. I was asked to dance a couple of times throughout the evening. I’m more of a social creature than anything at all – so I engaged myself with a couple sitting next to me and learned that they were checking out the tango scene to see if it was something they wanted to learn. I still keep in touch with them and they have decided to give tango a shot. Word.

I was approached by someone later in the evening for a dance. As the milonga ended he asked if I wanted a practice partner. Yes I want a practice partner! Where have you been since I’ve been dancing tango?! I soon learned that he wanted far more than a practice partner. In fact, he was quite serious about me from the beginning.

This is where I’m surprised. I had quite literally been telling men to f*ck off for months because I had grown SO tired of feeling objectified and for my kindness being mistaken for flirtation. No. If I wanted to flirt with you, I’d give you one hell of a cabeceo. This tanguero did not evoke a response of annoyed and suppressed rage that everyone else who dared approach me had received.

I have been nothing short of overwhelmed by the amount of affection he showers on me. I’ve told him as much and have asked him to be patient with me more than anything else. He says he adores me. It’s taking me longer to come around – I’m not quite sure that I’m ready for something of this magnitude and have told him as much. His response was to tell me to go with it. 

I’m taking it in stride. I have no inclinations as to what the future holds. We get along well thus far and yet are so very different in many ways. I wonder if there will be a clash at some point. Perhaps there's an adventure; perhaps there's a tragedy. Perhaps this will only be a mere blink in the span of my life. I struggle with the intensity on his end.

Within the last week or so, I ran into my former beloved at a couple of milongas. The first time we avoided each other for as long as possible. It was crowded that night and the weather was warm. I happened to step outside for air just as he was coming back inside. We couldn’t avoid each other this time. I gave him a head nod. He said hello. That was all there was to it. A few days later we attended the same milonga yet again. This time it was pure avoidance.

If it weren’t for his watchdog pack, I might take a moment to exchange pleasantries with him. Two members of his guardians in particular seem to go out of their way to glare at me – I think they tag team or something. Those two gals are what make the scenario most awkward for me.  Actually, I think ‘hostile’ is a more adequate description. I think there are a few things these two ladies don’t know about me: 1) I don’t care about my reputation 2) I make my own fun 3) I will laugh at you for your attempts to make me miserable 4) I find it flattering that you are putting so much effort into stamping out my presence 5) I’m still laughing.

I'm still laughing, ladies!

While taking another tango course at PSU for my own fun and enjoyment, I met someone I’ll call Nelly. At first, Nelly came across as socially awkward. Also, I know what sort of superficial world we live in. It initially angered me when she attended milongas and wasn’t asked to dance. How can people be so f*cking superficial? I asked myself. Over a few weeks it seemed to be her attitude that kept others at bay. I made it a point to attend every milonga Nelly planned on attending so she’d have someone to keep her company. I would be exhausted after these outings and finally realized the cause of my lethargy was being so close to her, and receiving what she has been putting out into the Universe. 

Nelly seems happier lately. This pleases me because I don't think she realized what kind of energy she was emanating.  In fact, I'd say she's radiant. That's a good start, Nelly. Keep at it. In the words of Rumi: 'Live where you fear to live. Be notorious'. Your perception is your reality and the world is only as good as you make it. Rejection is difficult. I know this. On that note, it’s far more enriching to live life without caring what others think. This is not easy to achieve, but once you get there life is nothing but joyous and beautiful.