I am not a teddy bear: a gender breakdown



So first of all my motivations and possible rewards as a mark are different than a man’s. I am not interested in romance, or confirmations of my virility. I am not interested in her tits or smile. I do not feel her beauty as an acquisition.

The physical sensation will never be the same because I do not have a lot of mass or a workman’s chest. We can snuggle,  but it’s not going to be as good. So the “rhythmic” style of dance now popular which is about having a hug with spectacular musicality, is not really open to me.

Someone asked me if I could enjoy that style marking a man. Problem is that if I find a man small enough that I can see over him to dance in close embrace, then he is probably a mark who I want to revel with, not to mark.

Again because of the mass I cannot delight a girl by hurling her out of axis.  I cannot support her unmanaged weight with a finger  or two,  only with good and mutual technique.  Girls sometimes ask me to dance expecting what  JT, wiggling her fingers in the air,  described as  “magic”.


I am not a teddy bear. And two sets of breasts can get a bit busy.

Marking for me is therefore about art, and as an artist I’m a sculptor, so where other people are interested in rhythm, I’m interested in shape,  form, contrast, dynamic motion. And I need a revel who is ready to dance,  not be danced. 

Silences in history. Silences by code. Silences of fear. You already know that Tango’s silences can be sublime and they can be devastating.

What I do in my blog is use myself as a lens – sometimes a microscope, sometimes a telescope. I try to be as honest with myself and you as words concede. Then I try to find a deeper meaning and imagine a pathway for us.

A blog post can be a fragment, a wisp of inspiration, an outline for thinking. A book must complete and reconcile it all. Now I drag the social scientist to the scene to enumerate the facts of the case, the mystery which brought both stardom and tragedy to my life.

I invite you to join my resolution to take a look at the dark silences of Argentine Tango in our lives. It’s time.


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