I went for a drink after a night out dancing and I was sitting next to you, trying to talk to you. I was shy. We all ordered cheese to eat. The cheeses came in little boxes with a surprise inside. Nobody ate. Some people were talking a bit of English. I had trouble understanding them. Another man, who was sitting in front of me, was talking to me about literature but it made no sense to me.
Two months after that first discouraging salsa night I decided to try again. This time without husband – he was sick – but armed with contacts made during dance class. The evening couldn’t have been more different. I danced with everyone I knew, and I got invited by some people I had never met. I finally felt like I was flying again. And to top it all up I found the bachata room…
It’s no coincidence that I have just written a poem after 22 years of having absolutely no inspiration nor desire to write poetry. When I was barely 16, I was writing lots of poems, mostly on the same subject: love, tenderness, and sensuality. My sexuality was awakening and I was expressing it most beautifully and poetically.
Sadly the object of my affection was a 40 year-old man. I was living my Oedipus, as so many young girls do, by having as a first love someone who resembles their father. All would have been fine had he kept the relationship platonic and encouraged me to mature into a relationship with someone my own age.
It was a Monday evening when my husband and I got ready to try a new salsa class. Ten years ago, we used to go dancing several times a week, back when we were just friends. But then he seduced me, we got married, moved across the Atlantic, had a child, and completely forgot about salsa. Over the years I also forgot all about my sexuality, feeling desirable and having strong feelings of lust. As we were walking towards the social center where the salsa classes were held, I had no idea of the changes that were to come.