Okay, it’s fess-up time: I am and always have been a physical clutz.
When I was cast as Fagin in Oliver! a ba-zillion years ago at CSU, Chico, I bumped into the choreographer in a CD store (we’d worked together on a previous show, The Ruling Class) and said, "You’re not going to make me dance, are you?"
To which he replied, "Bob, there ain’t that much making in Chico!"
So what am I doing taking tango lessons with Vicki?
Answer: Finally, at last, getting over my clumsiness about dealing with the physical world, that’s what.
And believe me, it’s a fucking chore!
Comfort zone? I left that way behind long ago.
And I applaud Vicki’s patience. This is a dance where the man leads and the woman follows, backwards usually, in high heels.
Good tango dancers make it look easy. It’s not. There are all manner of things to remember, leaning forward while being balanced, taking the "frame" while relaxing, how to hold your partner’s hand just so, not to bounce, making snap decisions whereas I really like to stop and ponder my moves.
Pray for poor Robert!
Dancing has long been a socital tool for non-verbal communiation. Kudos to you for giving it a go. Dance on … !