A Cabeceo Story

I don’t know her name. She looked like in her middle 30s, sitting with her girl friend, who was about the same age. They sat across the room in the women’s section, chatting and not dancing. I had an impression that they came not to dance but to spend some time together and watch other people dance tango, which is not uncommon in Buenos Aires.

She looked at me while they were talking. But it wasn't like she wanted to dance with me, it was more like she happened to be staring in my direction. I ignored her and searched for other prospective partners. Occasionally, her girl friend went to dance, but she didn't accept any invitation, just sat there watching. When her girl friend returned, they resumed their conversation.

I danced a lot that night. Every time I went back to my seat, I saw that the two girls were still chatting, and the girl was still looking in my direction. I continued to ignore her because I didn't think she wanted to dance, or even could dance. But I kept my eyes on her girl friend, whose dance impressed me. The girl must have noticed that, for at one point I saw her talking to her girl friend while looking at me, as if telling her I was watching her. But her girl friend only gave me a brief look and quickly turned her eyes away. Only she still gazed at me.

At that moment it suddenly dawned on me that perhaps she was interested in dancing with me. She might not be a good dancer, but I was ready to give a try since she has been looking at me for so long. I nodded at her, and she nodded back. To make sure she was responding to my cabeceo, I looked around to see if anyone was communicating with her, but I found no one doing that. So I stood up and walked towards her. She stared at me all the way until I reached her table. “A very patient girl, brave, confident, and very persistent.” I thought. That was one thing I learned about cabeceo that night.

I was wrong about her. She was an excellent dancer, even better than her impressive girl friend. Her beautiful and stylish footwork showed solid techniques that could only result from years of training. In fact, only a professional could dance the way she did with such control, elegance and precision. In our brief conversation she told me she was a stage dancer. I wondered why a young stage dancer like her would come to a social milonga to dance tango milonguero. “This is not your style. Why do you come here to dance?” I was curious. She paused for a moment, then said, “There are too many young dancers on stage, I can’t compete with them any more. I am getting old.”