Testing the Waters

Hmmm, the single life. It's interesting. There are moments that are quite precious. Going out to concerts and events with friends, sleeping in, moving at my own pace, eating or not, just being with my dog Filou. But there are also curious and unsettling moments. I'm not truly sure what I want.

It is a chance to be with me. I need this. Of this I'm fully aware. It's a chance to shift directions, to go deeply into myself and my potential, the possible of my life.

I'm living a blend of lots of work, time alone, being with friends, and going out on my own. The tango world is there to amuse me, but also to throw me off balance a bit.

With the temptation of many an evening of dance this summer I agreed to go out with a dancer I'd danced with here and there over the past two years. It was truly a lovely date. But not.

The evening after I'd spent days cleaning my house for the renters, still exhausted, not completely present, stressed from the general over-fullness of the month of June. I said yes to an invitation to the opening night vernissage of the summer art show in the Palais des Papes and the Petit Palais. I said yes to mingling with the mondio of the Vaucluse and Provence. And I said yes to dancing by the canals of Martigue, a little Venice, under the full moon. But then I said no.

The thought, the act, the physical realness of a man groping me (somewhat gracefully, but also in a very deaf way), just made me ill. No, I'm not ready. Thank you, the evening couldn't have been more lovely, but, no. I can't. I've just come out of something intense and I just can't. I can dance, I can go out, I can chat, but that is all I can offer.

So, take your hands of me and take me home. Bye.

I saw him again Sunday night, after my day feeding guests at JP's and after my tango class with one of my favorite teachers. Not unexpectedly he was obnoxious. Les femmes sont des drôles de bêtes, he said. Yes, and no. I am simply not ready for more than being spun around the dance floor.

And so I was, by others, by my teacher, by pleasant unknown men who were respectful and amused. And then I went home alone.

Back to my cocoon of a camper van, back to my dog, back to my very good stack of books.

Yes, it is interesting being where I'm at. I'm discovering myself what I can and cannot handle. I am realizing daily what is possible, what I want, what I can tolerate, what I seek. The lessons are many.