Whether its hearing “little white girl can dance” in English or “oooh mira la rubia quien puede bailar,” in either language, it always means more rump shaking. You do it while showering, while brusing your teeth, and oh-so-Demi-Moore-esque, while blow-drying your hair (thank you “Striptease” your theatrical value carries its weight in gold).
If you didn't know, Argentina is the birthplace of Tango. Yes, when my parents come here I’ll take them to a show and let them see the beauty and grace of professional dancers. Then right after they’ll be going to a boliche (club) to see how Argentines really get down, cumbia/salsa/reggaeton-style.
A few months ago, a student of mine (surprise, surprise a student) told me that American guys don’t know how to dance and I began to think back… waaaaay back….
I dated this guy before I moved down here, who had music on during every second of his day, albeit rap, but music nonetheless. Now, that boy could dance, just not in a way that you’d want your parents to see. He was smooth and swayed along with the beat, allowing me to jump in when he wasn’t busy doing choreographed moves with his friends. Believe me, it looked cooler than my written account.
Ok, so there’s one guy that can dance, but I’ll have to go back even farther to find another one, lets say to the fresh age of 16.
Ahhh, Kevo. Yes, many of you know my first boyfriend, Kevin. Well, he is another example of a white boy that can move, sometimes showcasing the “White-Man-Overbite” and the always respected, “Sprinkler.”
Kev’s charming and funny, so we’ll count that as #2 of guys I’ve dated who knew how to dance.
Then I moved to Argentina, AND EVERYTHING CHANGED.
****So here’s my top 5 dancing moments in BA*****
Number 5: The first time I was merked by Latin dancing was about 2 weeks in, when I went out with my host parent’s son for a night of music and drinking. He didn’t speak English and my Spanish was shit, but who needs the spoken word when you've got body language! At 40ish years old, homeboy could move; hands, hips, head, all moving in this gorgeous, fluid movement. That was the moment I realized I would love living in Argentina.
Number 4: El Bicentenario. To celebrate Argentina’s 200th birthday, my friends and I went downtown for an enormous outdoor concert where I met a pair of twins that will ultimately go down in history as two of my favorite dance partners. Maybe it was the Fernet, or maybe it was the puff (cough cough) pass, but there is nothing better than the feeling of floating, spinning, and watching the world go by. (Two pairs of breathtaking green eyes don't hurt either.)
Number 3: This one may be a shocker for all you Midwesterners out there, but some of my best experiences have been with.... GIRLS.
One will go down in infamy for the rest of my living existence as the girl that ahemm “let me taste her cherry chapstick.” I’m not proud, she was mistaken, but I thanked her for her interest. Next up is the ever graceful, Carol “The Cazz” Gutierrez. Australian-born, Argentine blood pulsing through her veins, which means she can grab your hand and twirl you around the dance floor like a pro. To say she made me blush is an understatement.
Number 2: Watching trannies at midnight in the park… I don’t know if I want to go into details on this one, as there could be youngsters reading... Lets just say they don’t follow the rule of “Less is More” and absolutely nothing is left to the imagination. That being said, I’d let any of them take me out for a night on the town, even on a Tuesday (GASSSP)!
Number 1: I’m going to go ahead and keep this one to myself for my personal memory bank. I know you’re all dying to know who it was with, where, when, etc etc, but there are just some memories that are just too exceptional to share with the rest of the world… at least until the book comes out…
(I will give you a hint though; he was an Argentine, handsome, and astounding).
