Wednesday, February 22, 2012

injaynesworld "It Takes Two To Tango..."

If given my druthers, I would have stayed home prone on the couch in comfy sweats, wine in one hand, remote in the other.  It was a cold, windy night and going out would require a lot of damn effort.

My tight-knit group of friends known as “The Usual Suspects” were coming together to celebrate the birthday of one of our own.  “Tapas and Tango” was to be the theme for the night and the host and hostess, who’d started taking tango lessons a year ago, had hired their teacher to come give us all a lesson.  While it sounded like fun, the reality of having to shower, wash my hair, put on makeup, and get dressed had me in more of a funk.   “What does one even wear to a tango party?” I groused to no one in particular.  

These days, I find myself assessing my participation in any activity according to the level of effort it will require.  Am I getting lazier or, as I traverse the path of time, just a lot stingier with how I choose to spend what is rapidly becoming a declining resource?   On most days, I’d be happy to stay up here on my hilltop and look out upon the world rather than to engage in it.   Were it not for horses that require care and the need to replenish my wine supply, I might do just that.   It’s a good thing I have these fun-loving friends who force me to dislodge my lazy (size 4) ass from time to time because the truth is I’m always happy when I’ve done so.

Much wine and food was consumed before we took to the dance floor, ready to risk making complete fools of ourselves in the name of a good time.   You could tell how seldom some of the couples went dancing with each other by the number of times “Let me lead!” was heard shouted across the room.  Being the token single of the group, I was partnered with the host, while the hostess danced with the teacher.   This gave me a clear advantage.   As with sex, it’s always good if at least one of the participants knows what they’re doing. 

The Argentine tango is different from the ballroom type.  Once you learn a few key steps, improvisation is the name of the game.   I was fine letting my host lead.  It required less effort (there’s that word again) on my part and, by the end of the evening, I was ready to sign up for lesson two. 

Yes, I could stay here on my hilltop, up to my (say it with me) size-4 ass in lethargy, but any endeavor requires some kind of effort, with the possible exception of death and even I’m not ready for that kind of inertia… although the dress code is appealing.  

Reposted June 3, 2012 as part of the 30-day blogging challenge at We Work For Cheese.  The prompt:  "They played my song."   God bless Nicky & Mike for the "no rules" part of this challenge.   

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