Dancing and Depressed.

Tonight the Egyptian asked me if I was tired.
"No I am not tired. "I said even though I was resting out the tanda.
"Then perhaps you are in love. It is the same, you know - tired and in love.
Being in love makes you dizzy." he smiled.
"Yes, I know" I smiled back.
I was feeling dizzy.
I had gotten a bit drunk before the milonga (something I never do) because I lost a job earlier in the afternoon and it seemed appropriate to get inebriated. If I had been tired or in love, these feelings were quickly supplanted by the onset of deep panic.
A long long time ago, my astrologer told me that I needed to dance in order to avoid committing suicide. So I began to dance.
It saved my life for several decades.
I am now wondering if this is still an effective remedy.

It was only in the elevator on the way out that I found my lost sense of humor, dignity, and desire to live.
A gentleman and two ladies accompanied me down. The ladies buzzed about my dapper hat and I made some comment back to them. The gentleman was taken aback and he said:
"Your voice is higher than I expected. I thought you were a -"
"The ladies buzzed again and chuckled deeply.
"Shall I lower my voice for you?" I asked while straightening my corbata. And I did so speaking in a deep husky range.
"I thought you were a -
You are dressed like a -
I thought you were a -" he repeated.
"I AM" I said in my best basso.
"It is ok, the ladies assured him. It takes a woman to know these things."
In that moment I ceased to feel so depressed for being such a loser.
At least I was recognized for the milonguero I am.