A Cabeceo Story

I didn't know her name. She looked to be in her mid-30s, sitting with her friend, who appeared to be about the same age. They sat across the room in the women's section, chatting and not dancing. I got the impression they hadn't come to dance but rather to spend time together and watch others dance tango, which is not uncommon in Buenos Aires.

She glanced at me while they were talking. But it didn’t seem like she wanted to dance; it felt more like she was simply staring in my direction. I ignored her and searched for other potential partners. Occasionally, her friend went to dance, but she didn't accept any invitation, just sat there watching. When her friend returned, they would pick up their conversation again.

I danced a lot that night. Every time I returned to my seat, the two women were still chatting, and that woman was still looking in my direction. I continued to ignore her because I didn't think she wanted to dance, or perhaps even could dance. Instead, I kept my eyes on her friend, whose dancing impressed me. The woman must have noticed because, at one point, I saw her talking to her friend while glancing at me, as if she was telling her I had been watching. Her friend only gave me a brief look before quickly turning away. Yet, the woman herself continued gazing at me.

It suddenly dawned on me that perhaps she was interested in dancing with me. She might not be a skilled dancer, but I was ready to give it a try since she'd been looking me for so long. I nodded at her, and she nodded back. To confirm she was responding to my cabeceo, I looked around to see if anyone else was interacting with her, but I found no one doing that. So I stood up and walked toward her. She stared at me the entire way until I reached her table. "A very patient, brave, confident, and persistent girl," I thought. That was one thing I learned about cabeceo that night.

I had misjudged her. She turned out to be an exceptional dancer, even surpassing her impressive friend. Her elegant and stylish footwork showcased solid techniques that could only come from years of training. In fact, only a professional could display such control, elegance, and precision. During our brief conversation, she revealed that she was a stage dancer. I was curious why a young stage dancer like her would come to a social milonga to dance tango milonguero. "This isn’t your style. Why do you come here to dance?" I asked. She paused for a moment before replying, "There are too many young dancers on stage. I can’t compete with them anymore. I’m getting old."