CAN YOU TANGO

On the way down to the lawn, he asked, if I could tango, YES! Yes! Yes! of course, I could tango. I had a flash of the three months I tried to learn, it was a disaster, but he would probably never know.  I do not remember what we talked about. I only spoke a little French, and he only spoke a little English, but we spoke about something. On the lawn, I found myself talking to several other people in English, Spanish, and even a little French. Soon we were all returning to the tables and he accompanied me back. I was seated between two Frenchmen, one spoke very good English, and the other spoke very good Spanish. The man in White, was seated between a beautiful Brazilian and an exotic Iranian, and they both spoke very good French. I must admit I was a little distressed by those women, but only for a few moments because I was soon on the dance floor having a terrific time and forgot all about the man in White.

I had the time of my life that evening. I do not remember ever having that good a time at a dance not at 17, not at 19, not ever. I thought, Wow! France is great, the Frenchmen are fantastic. I danced until the music stopped. For a little while, I was a lively butterfly; I gave my phone number to anyone who asked for it and, I accepted all invitations. I accepted a date to go dancing the following night by the gentleman on my left. I accepted brunch from another, and as I was leaving the table, the man in White came over and asked me, “Si vous souhaitez aller à une exposition appelez-moi” “If you would like to go to an exhibition call me.” Apparently, we had talked about art.

Three days later, I called him.