He is so deliciously close to me, I can smell the scent of his shampoo. Dark ends of his hair still clustered and damp. His skin is so invitingly smooth, it looks like he just shaved in a hot shower. This guy—a complete stranger—is holding me like I’ve never been held before. So firm and sure, I feel utterly supported. So light, I am perfectly free. Will you believe me when I tell you he looks like a young Johnny Depp? Latin American version. He’s from Argentina. And on a warm winter day, in a dance studio in downtown Buenos Aires, he’s explaining to me and my fellow classmates, how to achieve the best embrace, abrazo, before beginning a tango. And I’m the lucky one he’s chosen to dance with. He aims a remote at the sound system across the …
