Tangoholism
Symptoms of severe tangoholism
Just as there are many ways to get hooked on different interests, with tango it happens with unusual efficiency.
I found a sizeable list online pointing to severe tangoholism. I decided to use those symptoms, but only the ones that actually apply to me, adding a few personal experiences of my own.
And, unfortunately, it looks like this:
- In the middle of the night I decide I really should repeat the figure I last practiced, so I get up and drill it, or I won’t fall asleep.
- I notice I have more emails about tango than about work.
- On every trip, every plein-air, I pack a pair of tango shoes, an audio set, and a few hundred tango tracks in various styles, on at least two devices.
- A week after a milonga, your hair still smells of your partner’s perfume.
- I know exactly what will improve my mood.
- When someone hears “Arrabalera” and asks “what’s this polka?”, I decide to end the friendship.
- Tango has become my philosophy.
- A milonga is nothing more than the place where I meet all my friends.
- I pointedly highlight the bad tango scenes in films.
- I walk backwards to the fridge.
- Walking into buildings, I immediately spot potential dance spaces.
- Friends ask if I need help.
- When rearranging the flat, the priority is maximising dance floor space.
- I wake up in the middle of the night hearing tango. It turns out the music is only playing in my head.
- I keep tango shoes everywhere I regularly go — at work, at friends’ places, at painting plein-airs, or I just bring them along just in case.
- In pursuit of tango, I cross regional and national borders.
- Waiting at a pedestrian crossing, I practice my balance so I can signal a step forward the moment the light changes.
- The first question I ask myself buying clothes is “can you dance in this?”
- My work computer holds my entire tango music collection. It’s all I listen to at work.
- My relationship with tango has shifted from “unlimited enthusiasm” to “you wouldn’t understand anyway.”
- My friends are plotting to send me to a week of rehab.
- I know who Carlos Gardel is.
- I’ve gotten rid of most of my furniture. You know why.
- Outside of milongas, I still listen to tango.
- I arrange the rest of my social life so it doesn’t collide with tango.
- My wardrobe is mostly stripes and pinstripes.
- Ocho isn’t just Spanish for “eight.”
- I divide people into those who dance tango, and the unhappy rest.
- Keeping up friendships with people outside tango gets harder by the day.
- I can turn any discussion into a discussion about tango in under 2 minutes.
- I consider my painting easel on wheels a decent substitute for a dance partner.
- No matter how tired I am, tango always gives me energy.
- Before travelling, I check online whether anything tango-related is happening where I’m going.
- I can drive to a milonga for twice as long as I’ll actually dance there.
- My ear catches every tango reference, in every genre of music.
- To fully understand the dance, I’m learning to both lead and follow.
- Tango has stripped the charm from every other dance style I know.
- I’ve become a creature of the night.
- I’ve been seen dancing tango in a car park — outside a church, no less.
- I’m afraid of foot injuries, so I’ve given up skiing, ice skating, and rollerblading.
- My interest in shoes borders on a fetish.
- I know exactly how hard it is to find a passion this strong.
- I dance and practice in my imagination, and in my dreams.
- I have to dance. I really have to dance.
- I sing and murmur into my partner’s ear while dancing.
- I will dance until the end of my life.
- I’m no longer afraid of losing myself in the dance.
- Wherever I go, I always perform at least a few signalled tango steps.
- Tango reflects my soul.
- I will always keep trying to dance better.
- I feel the need, and the satisfaction, of correcting Hollywood’s image of tango in the minds of the uninitiated.
- Talking about tango, I fight the temptation to do a gancho on whoever’s standing next to me.
- I still have bruises and cuts on my legs from my partners’ stilettos.
- I eat dinner at two in the morning.
To sum up: maybe it’s madness, but tango makes me happy.