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Chronicle of an ordinary milonga (from a female point of view) by Celine Allard

Who has not been seized by a sudden gust of excitement pushing the door and climbing the stairs to the milonga, at the humming sound of your favorite tango (A media luz, for example) The night is still young, and expectations are building up. This is your Saturday night after all, and it'd better be good, since you worked so hard during the whole week, looking forward to the good dances. But, at the risk of sounding cliche, it takes two to tango, and so, you're preparing yourself for a lot of frustration, especially as a milonguera.

You feel you have no control on who is going to invite you, and you dread that awful dancer who is going to ask you for a dance, right when your dream tanguero is about to cross the dance floor to make his move.

So as you settle down at the best table you could find (Gosh, I told you, we should have come earlier, all the good seats are already taken) and nervously fumble in your bag to find your high high heel shoes, you scan the room to assess who's here and who's not. Oh, no, she came, she 's going to get all the attention, and oh, no, he's not here yet. What if he did not show up, despite his promises? Is the night already ruined, before even your first tango step?

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