Several years ago I made up the word “Tangoid” to describe dancers
whose tango life has invaded their daily life.
So, you are a Tangoid if…
You have used sick leave, vacation time or
bereavement leave to attend a tango event.
You have danced in, through, or
in spite of an illness, injury or incision.
You have flirted with an attractive stranger to get a dance
and soon wished you had watched them dance with someone else first.
You have volumes of notes you took as a beginner
but no idea what language they’re in.
You used to survive all weekend on adrenalin, antacids and Altoids.
Now you survive on aspirin, ace bandages and naps.
You’ve done fun things to tango music besides dance.
You take workshops all day, dance all night
and hope your feet will keep moving when your brain explodes.
Women carefully consider which shoes to wear and after few hours on the floor,
would gladly trade them for some ibuprofen and ice packs.
If you are a guy, you repair your favorite shoes until
glue and duct tape are no longer effective.
You are not amused when a partner
offers to show you how to do your part.
Your blood pressure spikes when the
dimwit in front of you stops to teach, talk or tie their shoe.
You have been scratched, poked or gored by whiskers, a mustache or belt buckle.
You have inhaled toxic fumes fro
m hair spray, cologne and mystery aromas.
You hate it when a partner asks the teacher for help then points at you.
You have danced all night then
languished in the morning after tangover.
You have experienced more intimacy in three minutes
than in some of your long term relationships.
You’ve had dances that were a little
TOO good to mention to your significant other.
You have reconsidered the status of
your relationship after a tango weekend.
Any Tangoids in the house?
Presented at February 2014 ValenTango Grande Ball