Basic-InstinctI hate stereotypes. Who doesn’t? Only there’s some truth in each stereotype, isn’t there? A tiny little bit, true, but there is always truth, hiding out somewhere, waiting to pounce when you least expect it to.

Not embarking on a long-winded rant about stereotypes in tango, though God knows there’s a post waiting to happen. No. What I want to write about is the stereotype of a tango instructor.

What do you think about when you think of tango? Passion, something dark and illicit, nocturnal, dangerous men in fedoras, even more dangerous women in fishnets (one mustn’t forget the ubiquitous fishnets) and high heels. The music, the seduction, and more often than not – that rawness. Oh yes, you know exactly what I am talking about.

Now let’s talk about tango instructors…

With all of this mystique surrounding us, mere mortals don’t have a chance. It helps enormously if you’re pleasant to look at. But even if you’re not that much to write home about, if you have this confidence, a certain je ne sais quoi, and a decent dancer… Oh la la, all bets are off.

Do not misunderstand me. I am absolutely not suggesting that we’re all going after our students. In fact, nothing could be more annoying for an instructor. Only… what does one do when these students are coming after you?

The classes that I am teaching now are a sociological experiment in and of themselves. Longing gazes, complete oblivion (from certain individuals), evil eyes cast upon certain dance partners of certain individuals, and this all in just the first 15 minutes of the class. All in all, fun and games, fun and games.

Only a flirtation is a flirtation, but when feelings begin to get involved… Damnation!

We are painting ourselves into a corner, dancing with illusions, creating an illusion for you, really, and thinking that it’s all going to turn out for the best.

But if it doesn’t?