It is easy for many of us to fall in love with the man who takes us to Tango Heaven. However the sensuous communication and intimacy of the Tango is traditionally over once you leave the floor. Argentines know this, but Americans can be disoriented and befuddled after a sexually-charged dance. The man leads with his mind and body, and the woman follows with hers. She has the choice of adding adornments and embellishments, but the control and responsibility are the man's.
American men are different, unsure of their place in the world and with women.
It's a cultural thing. Perhaps we American women have brought it on ourselves with our race to equality. On my trip there were a lot of tears shed by my American traveling companions in the Ladies' Rooms of the tango halls. And I admit, even though I knew better, to having a crush on one of the teaching assistants and being disappointed that all he did was dance with me. It's more comfortable to have our personal space, to maintain a lack of commitment to keep from being hurt, to not press our breasts against the chest of a stranger who we may never see again and whose name is unknown.