Sex, Pleasure, Love, & Jealousy-2
Part Two: “Passion In Salsa”
Note - This is part two. Read Part one here.
I was not quick to be in touch with Marc. He seemed to be very interested in me – and I was flattered, but I wondered if I was going to be able to handle such ardor at this time in my life.
I was not quick to be in touch with Marc. He seemed to be very interested in me – and I was flattered, but I wondered if I was going to be able to handle such ardor at this time in my life.
I had lost my husband, Nicholas – my soul-mate - two years earlier, to a sudden heart attack and was only now beginning to fumble my way back into the “real” world. Was it fair to drag Marc into my fledgling attempts at social flight? I was bound to be awkward and out of practice.
(Darn it, Monica. Look what you got me into!)
But I also did not want to dismiss a very gallant person who danced with such generosity. So instead of phoning, I decided to write a simple e-mail saying, “thank you, enjoyed the dancing…” and see what transpired.
Several days went by and there was no response. I admit to feeling some relief. He must have come to his senses, I thought, and realized that my dancing prowess was a fluke – his feelings for me had flown, and it was all better left in the past.
Since Nicholas’s death, several men had expressed strong interest in me. I found it strange that none of them really wanted to take the time to get to know me before declaring their outsized feelings. One very wealthy man even tried to buy a place in my life before we had had our first date.
Perhaps this is the peril of being a woman on her own in 2006, I mused. I’ve been out of the social scene for so long, I no longer know the rules.
Was I foolish to be out in the “scene” at all, right now?
I promised myself that I would be a little more clear in the future about who I was, even if the individual did not seem to want to know.
E-mail Overload
So a few days later, when Marc’s e-mail showed up with words that strongly indicated his continuing interest and his great admiration for my dancing, (oh dear!); I wrote a few words in return and provided links to one of my music videos, some writing I had done about Salsa and a few other choice bits about my professional singer’s life that existed online.
It was more like responding to a “request for artist information,” than an effort to chat-up a charming man whose interest had been piqued. But I decided to reveal myself and let the chips fall where they may.
His response to my barrage of information was quick and very nice. Although he did suggest that in my first Salsa piece, “Salsa High,” I had missed one important emotional element that features strongly in the clubs – “jealousy.” He offered to tell me more about it when we danced again. And we agreed to do that at the same club on the following Saturday night.
After saying yes to the dance date, I wasn’t sure that it was a good idea. As I thought back to the intense evening of dance that we had shared, the one thing that stood out in my mind above all else, was the shock of sexual energy that moved through me during some of our closer dancing.
It both pleased and frightened me. After Nick’s death, I wondered if I would ever feel deep sexual need again. And here it was, tugging at my new Salsa skirt.
If I felt wary of it, it was partly because I knew that I was starved for the kind of close physical comfort that I had enjoyed with Nicholas for so many years. But reviving it in a few tight-fit dances with a stranger, followed by a fast leap into bed; was this the right way to go about fragile sexual renewal?
My writer friend, Bea, who has herself written powerfully about sex, weighed in: “You have needs again,” she said. “This is a good thing! Just keep your skirt on for awhile. Get to know one another. Go slowly.”
In the meantime, Marc and I exchanged a few more e-mails; him playing his personal cards pretty close to his chest; me, still in my tell-all mode. They were odd exchanges in that way. But English was not his first language, so I assumed that, unlike me, he was not compelled to write a novelette about himself.
Club Jitters
On Saturday night, I got to the club around 10:45PM after singing at an event earlier in the evening. I was a little nervous about what was to come. Could I still dance? Or would my surprising ability of one week ago have magically disappeared like Cinderella’s glass slipper?
When I turned away from checking my coat, I saw him draped over a stool in a dark corner near the bar. My first thought was how easily his body flowed as he stood to say hello. “Very attractive,” I thought, my sexual temperature already rising.
“Oh, Oh,” I said quietly to my skirt. “We’d better have a glass of wine and calm down.” But Marc was in a hurry. After a sip or two, he led us to the dance floor and into the light.
For those of you who have never danced to Salsa music, I must explain that this kind of Latin music has an intoxicating energy. It pleads with you to dig deep into your sensual self and spit it out.
Dancers who are untrained also feel this urgent call to “get wild,” and they stir up a lot of electric dust, even if they do not look too good on the dance floor.
For those fortunate few who have great dance technique, the call reveals itself in a blaze of highly-coordinated, fast-paced spins, turns, hand gestures, triple-twirls, bows, fancy footwork, kicks, and leaps, plus some pretty sensual body-to-body dance sculpting (as seen in the Merengue).
Marc is one of those fortunate few who can really dance. And tonight, I could sense that he was going to demand that I call upon whatever technique I could muster.
Beginner Goes Advanced
Before I knew it, I was in a swirl of twirls. Not many of those safe little salsa turns that I had enjoyed last Saturday, were showing up in this routine; tonight was serious business. And Marc, a 15-year dance veteran, was having to work much harder to keep me (now a full 10-weeks into my dance classes) in line.
We danced like this for a long time. Finally, I was so ready for a rest from these complex dizzying moves that when a Merengue started to play, even though I knew we would be heading into deeper sexual waters, I felt great relief.
A male friend, who has played a lot of hard-core amateur basketball with a nice little bunch of men who call themselves, “The Killers,” told me one day that, “as you are on the basketball floor, so are you in life.”
Of myself, I would say that as I am in life, so am I on the dance floor: a seeker of meaning, connection, mystical possibilities, deep purpose… You see where this is going. I don’t just dance. Whatever I do is done at full emotional and psychological throttle.
So in dancing this Merengue, Marc’s body slammed against mine – hips grinding - two becoming one, I was totally present and open. But soon I also felt my body begin to swoon. “Ay yai yai!” I thought with distress, “I am going to melt into a pool of sensual mist here on the floor.”
I am no newcomer to sex. I lived with a vibrant, virile man for many years. But I had not slept with anyone since Nicholas’s death, and I did not want to make a mess of my re-entry. Nor did I want to drag Marc into a mess with me. (“Go slow,” I heard Bea telling me.)
At around 2AM, I took us off the dance floor and let Marc know that I had to leave or risk turning into a pumpkin. (I often have music rehearsals on Sunday mornings. They are demanding on both my voice and my energy.)
The Rare Dancing Partner
We walked together to get me a cab, during which time Marc expressed a strong wish that I become his dance partner. I undestood from his tone of voice that the partnership he had in mind would encompass more than dancing the Salsa.
Again, for those non-dancers who are reading, you must understand that it is a great gift to find someone who dances very well, who is willing to offer himself as a partner to a novice. As a serious student of Salsa, I did not take this offer lightly.
But I also knew that even with the attraction I felt toward Marc, I would need to get to know him much better before I could feel confident about going deeper. I was also concerned that it might be somewhat difficult to get to know one another as well as I hoped to, due to my lack of french; Marc’s first language is french.
Still, I knew we would have to have a “talk” about expectation and timing.
The talk (on the telephone) came a day or so later. I expressed my great interest in dancing with him and my mixed feelings about a quick-moving sexual relationship. He was quiet for a moment or two. Then he suggested we set up some times to practice dancing. “You need technique!” he exclaimed. We agreed that I would do some research on places to practice - and be in touch.
The next morning, I woke up to find an e-mail from him that had been written at 3:47AM. He wrote that he understood my state of mind - that he felt a great admiration for me. But that “for your personal wellbeing, it is preferable not to meet again.”
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(NOTE: Marc did get in touch with me several weeks later. We danced again. But the timing still was not right, and the relationship did not continue.)
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Barbara Lewis is known for her very personal, self-revealing style of art. Through her songs, performances and writing, she takes listeners/viewers/readers on a deeply honest journey into areas of life that are not often explored so candidly. Lewis says: “My hope is that those who come in contact with my art will see themselves there as well and feel that it is never too late to make important life changes.” Thus, one reviewer has described her as, “the guru of self-renewal.”
This article, Sex, Pleasure, Love and Jealousy - Part Two: “Passion In Salsa,” is part of an ongoing feature called, “Journey To Salsa” that appears on several web sites. Please do not reprint any of Lewis’s articles without written permission, which can be negotiated by sending an e-mail to her agent/producer: E. Rosen Productions - erosen@videotron.ca
“JOURNEY TO SALSA”
Sunday, January 21, 2007
