The Art of the Cabeceo Part II: Failing Gracefully
There she was, the girl with the blue dress. I noticed here before, but I never managed to catch her eye. Her seat was all the way over at the other corner, so I started walking between the tables. As I approached slowly, I tried to establish eye contact. She changed her position. A slight turn of the head. I got closer. She looked down. Opened her purse. I walked on until I passed her and continued to the Men’s room. Refused.
Some days later, I was back in the same milonga. There she was. This time closer to my table, sitting with her girlfriend, whom I had also noticed before. Fortunately, her friend accepted my invitation. I met her at the corner of the wonderful parquet dance floor as the place started to get really packed.
I walked her back to the table with the frozen blue dress and returned to my own. From the corner of my eye, I watched the two of them discussing vividly, glancing over in my direction. The moment of truth. Too bad I would not hear the verdict.
Di Sarli intrumental. I scanned the crowd for a suitable partner. Two eyes met mine. With a subtle nod, the contract was written and I walked towards the table. The blue dress got up and we headed for the dance floor. Hora Pica — peak hour — and no other option than keeping it simple. Walking in an embrace.
Random meetings with strangers in the night. Most are quickly forgotten. Others stay with you.
Several years later, on a different continent. There is something familiar with that girl. I walk over to her table to say hello. She remembers. She goes dancing with some other guy while I chat with a mutual friend. Then she returns. Di Sarli Instrumental.
Our eyes meet again.
HT illustration video: Limerick tango