Last night started the sixth tango fest in this little town of ours. My first tango festival was this one, six years ago, just when I started. Every year I hosted someone, and it seems that as each year passed by, I hosted fewer and fewer people. This year I have just one person, a tango friend and a brilliant tango teacher. Less stressful.
This is the last time I am hosting someone. Next festival, if there is one, and if I actually go, I will need someone to host me. By then I won't really know anyone. Everyone I know will have moved from the city proper by then . So much can happen in just one year.
Last year I was just starting to become interested in someone. I still remember the anxiety, the anticipation, the nervousness, of seeing her. She wasn't here for the whole festival because of personal obligations in New York. I still remember dancing with her on the first night that she was here. She had just started. Then I hadn't been to Buenos Aires yet. And since then, I have been twice. I mention this to show so much, even within the confines of tango, has happened. And so much drama between that woman and me. Traveling to the West Coast is a big event, but there had been a plethora of smaller incidents. Now we are hardly talking.
But we danced last night, for the first time in what feels like a long time. We were friendly too.
Last year one of the tango friends stayed at my place, among three other people. She slept on a slowly-deflating air mattress in my room. So odd to think about that now. What was a woman doing in my room, but not in my bed? That was before my birthday. Before she got very involved in my birthday celebration only to go home alone because I wanted to be with that other woman. Now she has a boyfriend she's crazy about, crazy enough to go on a bigger adventure in life with. I don't regret not being interested in her. First, you can't really control who you are interested in, you can only be mature about knowing what you believe is good for you. Second, she wasn't the person for me, and neither was I for her. She was very sweet to me, but we had nearly nothing in common. I remember explaining the tango songs I was learning to her, but she, being also a tango dancer, couldn't understand what the big deal was.
I saw her last night. There were simply too many people. I didn't have a chance to invite her. But she has left an indelible footprint in my walk of memories. She will be leaving for her country in a month. I have feelings about that, but I don't think I will miss her.
Where we danced last night was the same place as a year ago on that first milonga. I didn't really have a best buddy then. My art friend was someone I was just getting to know. Someone I gave rides to pretty frequently. My Latina friend I was not on speaking terms with because in the March before the festival we had a falling out over I don't really know what. But last night I got to dance with her for the last song. Sweet.
I was happy to be there. Despite the memory of drama, I didn't create any drama, even though I was very apprehensive to see a few people who have build plenty of drama with me in the past year, past five years of tango. I just danced the way I wanted, without regards to whose feelings would be hurt, who would benefit most, which is something you end up with a lot pretty frequently in milongas. I just danced.
Tonight is the big night. I don't know how I will dress, exactly. I dressed in a crazy way last night, crazy by my standards, with a sloppily tied tie, open blazer, and even red sneakers. I wanted to be free, and I felt free. It was a feeling I couldn't imagine having last year. I have changed. For the better. But still, part of me still wonders how all this really translates to getting the only elusive thing I want. Part of me understands that the point isn't to chase after the elusive, but rather enjoy the beauty and the elusive will come when she is ready. Part of me understands that until I have fallen in love with myself, I will not actually enjoy a relationship that I have idealized. But then, part of me just wants to throw a tantrum and ask in frustration why I can't have what I want.
What I want today is finding some boxes for packing. Cash my rent checks. Pay my bills. And go to a practica. I would like to spend some time with friends during this festival, but we will see.
Last time I am hosting. So far I am happy. So far, I can let go.
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