T-A-N-G-O

I have decided to be open minded. It's this new thing I'm trying. I have realized that sitting on your couch, holed up in a corner is no way to accomplish Epic-ness. Which has, consequently, led to the open minded thing. 

Open mindedness, along with the fact that my dreams of Argentina have been squashed by my inability to do anything on time, is why I decided to go TANGO dancing tonight. Without a partner. 

Read that again please. 

I, Alec, went to downtown Tucson, wearing old tennis shoes and black eyeliner, to Tango dance, withOUT a partner. 

I thought maybe it would make me feel like I was in Argentina. 

Also I'm desperate. Very desperate. 

Because here's the thing. In my mind, my life is a Mary-Kate and Ashley movie. 

So in my mind, if I curl my hair and put on a pair of dark blue jeans I will become a magnet for predicable plots that include beach-hair boys and cheesy one-liners. 

The only trouble is, outside of my mind, my life is more like an independent film. An independent film that is trying really hard to be a comedy, but it's just so awkward that no one laughs. 

Here is my story: Any independent film directors out there, you're welcome to it. (Just put my name, Alec - a girl, in the credits please). 

Set scene: Downtown Tucson. 92 F. Old pueblo-looking Mexican restaurant. Servers in black T-shirts. 

In the middle of the restaurant there is a cement-ish floor with flour intentionally spilled all over it. The circumference of that circle is made by seated tables. People are rubber-necking to watch the inexperienced dancers, wearing dancing heels potentially bought from garage sales, standing in the circle. 

The instructor is having the 'dancers' walk in a circle to tango music. They are walking in a circle, but not to the music. Incidentally, the walking 'dancers' have very little rhythm about them. 

Enter flawed hero (AKA me). 

I stop to take a deep breath. Maybe we're only single stepping tonight, I think, blatantly relieved. 

Time lapse: 45 seconds. 

Instructor: "If you came with a partner, wrap your arms around him now."

Me: Look around; blush, sit in the corner and text until imaginary co-star 1 bursts through the door wearing Argentine attire. 

Real Co-star 1: (description: aged man with graying hair.) sit at table eating Mexican soup with crimped-blond-haired woman who is tipsy, verging on wasted. 

"Do you want to dance?"

Me: Pause; Think about how to say no nicely but then decide that you only have three choices-- leave ungracefully, pretend like you just got a very important text and proceed to text yourself the rest of the night, or dance with the man. 

"Yes. Thank you." Spoken sincerely. 

Real Co-star 1: "I have garlic breath."

Me: good to know. 

Real Co-star 1: insert awkward conversation about Tango step following.

Instructor: "Switch partners!"

Me: Okay, Enrique... Enter. NOW! Walk through the door. Flip your hair a bit. Then come and say, "I teach you to dance like we do in Argentina."

Pause to wait for imaginary co-star #2. 

Realize that real Co-star # 2 is the lesbian dance instructor's partner. 

Real Co-star #2: "You have good energy coming from your tiny little body."

Real Co-star #1 to Real Co-star # 2: "I know you, you just want to steal all the beautiful girls."

Me: frown smile. 

End Scene. 

I'm thinking about going next week. Enrique has to show up eventually. Right? 

Right?

Besides. Dancing with a stranger that smells like already-swallowed Mexican food is seriously open-minded if you ask me. 

I'm just a few rhythmic steps away from Epic.