Poignant tango moment last night in a cab. I had gone to Villa Malcolm Cachirulo and it was awful from the start. Nowhere to sit, no host to seat me, so many women sitting at tables with hard expressions of waiting. I had only gone once before and had a beautiful night there but this time I felt totally invisible. My thought was, I do not go out on a Saturday night to suffer, so after five tandas of sitting and waiting I decided to leave.
On the street I decided to give Milonga 10 a try which was better.
I took a cab home and when I got in the cab the driver told me he saw me at Cachirulo.
“Disfrutaste?” I asked. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Baile.” he said. “I danced.”
I didn’t dance, I told him. I proceeded to tell him about all the reasons I did not like Cachirulo last night, including the feeling of desperation of waiting to be chosen, how frustrating that can feel. I felt invisible, I said.
“I saw you,” he said.
“Did you see me?” he asked.
“No,” I had to admit. And I wondered if I had even been looking at anyone at all, maybe I just gave up from the start.
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