Posts Tagged ‘Brazil’

The band took a small break and electronic music replaced their sound.  As they left the stage and talked to one another, Mr. Gorgeous and I had another intense exchange of looks.  Being rather close to the stage allowed me to inspect his movements and made it easy for him to locate me in the room.

— ‘Maybe I am ready for my second mistake’, I said to Tina breaking the contact with the man but quickly turning my eyes back to him.  As our eyes met again, I smiled and he smiled, but then he touched the bandoneonist’s shoulder and looked at him, as I watched their backs exiting the room.

When I looked back at Tina, she was already standing up for a dance and, before long, one of the young guys I had sat near to in the music workshop invited me for a dance and I accepted it.  I had assumed him to be English because of his pretty face and his slim and long figure, but Marcos was Argentinean and he was considerably more surprised by my nationality than I was by his.  In any case, our neighbouring home countries granted us more to share than tango so our conversation — which he started, I might add — turned to football and world cup before we had covered more usual topics, such as our jobs and interests.

— ‘Pedro and I, you know my friend Pedro right?’

by Pierre Andrews

— ‘Sorry, who?’

— ‘Pedro, over there. You danced with him, the tango instructor.’

— ‘Right, right. Is he an instructor? He didn’t say’. Cheeky! I knew he was being insincere when he said that thing about people finding it hard to follow him

— ‘Well, he is a great friend of mine and we’re World Cup buddies. We went to Germany last year and we’re going to South Africa in 2010.’

— ‘So, cool!’

— ‘Yes, and we definitely want to make it to Brazil in 2014.  It will be the best.’

— ‘I do hope so.’

— ‘Wouldn’t it be great’ he continued, ‘to see Brazil and Argentina playing the final in Maracanã’?

— ‘Best case scenario’, I agreed with a prompt smile, ‘especially if you remain losing matches to us even when you have fantastic teams’.

It wasn’t long that a low morale Brazil had beaten favourite Argentina by 3-0 at Copa America to everyone’s amazement, so there was not much to be said really. Marcos wasn’t that enthusiastic about my best case scenario in those conditions, but he did not protest much, but rather, chose to change the topic.

—- ‘You sound so British, how long have you been in the UK’?

—- ‘Well, thanks, the Brits don’t seem to think so, but anyway, I’ve been here for about 4 years’.

—  ‘So what do you do?’

—  ‘I am a researcher’.

—  ‘Cool! Me too’.

— ‘Is that right? What do you research?’

— ‘I do market research. And you?’

— ‘Academic research.’

We were not dancing, we stalled as we started as Marcos was getting excited and trying to use his hands as he talked.  He was handsome, very handsome indeed, even if he looked a bit too young.

—- ‘So are you thinking of staying?’

— ‘I don’t know’, I said evasively, trying to stop it from becoming a full questionnaire.

— ‘Right. How old are you?’

Why do some guys do that? I wanted to laugh it was such a deja vu! I could see Alex asking me this and subsequently lying his own age so that I would not think he was too young for me… keen young guys, how could they be so clueless and yet look so adorable? I did laugh.

— ‘Old’.

— ‘No!’

— ‘I am 31.’

— ‘That’s not old.’

— ‘And you are what, 23?’

— ‘No! Why do you say that?!’

— ‘Because you look 23.’

— ‘I am 30! And I will be 31 in March.’

— ‘Really? When in March?’

— ‘The 30th. Why are you laughing?’

—  ‘I’ll be 32 on the 31st.’

— ‘Right. So, we will be 31 for one day.’

— ‘Yeah. If that’s true, you have to tell me the secret of youth.’

— ‘Uhm, lots of beer?’, he said with a broad smile. ‘Maybe it’s too much, huh, two aries; impatient, fiery…’ he looked at me as he pressed his lips together for a fraction of a second, abandoning the words to the ever so effective intensity of one another’s presence in the embrace.  Again, I felt a warm excitement inside me, but just smiled coyly and dropped my eyes.

Our tanda was over and a bizarre salsa cortina started playing.

— ‘I don’t get these cortinas’, I said with mild, feigned, irritation.

— ‘Oh, they’re, they’re very Buenos Aires…’ he trailed off and made a head nod as if he had said it all, his contagious smile making everything else unnecessary.

— ‘Thank you’, I said as I started breaking our dancing unit.

— ‘Oh, right. But we’ll dance later, right?’

— ‘Sure.  Anyway, it was lovely to meet you Marcos’, I said meaning it but also as a means to get back to wrapping up.

— ‘We had met before’.

— ‘Had we?’

— ‘Yes, well, maybe not met properly but I saw you at Fernando and Cecilia’s class’.

— ‘Oh, right, right, yeah’.  I lied. I mean, I did not mean to lie with such conviction, for a fraction of a second I thought I remembered him but it became clear he could not be the guy I had thought of.  I really did not recall seeing him before.  I went back to my seat trying to find Marcos in my memory as I replayed images from Fernando’s class.

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