The hidden opportunity in Tango marketing – part 2

The Silent Struggle

In the last post, I wrote about how Tango is a powerful antidote to modern loneliness. Especially in a post-COVID world where third spaces are vanishing, Tango offers us a lifeline… a regular, welcoming community you can return to again and again.

But there’s another layer to this story. One that isn’t talked about much.
The loneliness of men.

Yes, everyone can feel isolated, but for men, the shape of loneliness often looks different. More silent. More hidden. And in some ways, more difficult to repair.

From Army Buddies to Empty Contact Lists

Looking back at my life, most of the friends I had were rooted in shared structures or places where I could show up regularly and gradually connect through time and repetition.

At first, that was school and university. That’s where most of my close friends came from. These gradually faded until later, when I made more friends during my military service, something every man in Greece goes through. We lived together, shared hardships, and inevitably formed bonds. But then, life happened. People moved. New obligations piled up. That effortless rhythm of seeing each other every day vanished. And the friendships, without ever being “broken”, started to fade.

We never fought. We never stopped liking each other. We just… stopped meeting. With many of them, I still keep in touch. But not the daily contract we used to have. We usually meet every now and then, like during Christmas holidays, etc., but this is not enough to fill the gap of that daily or weekly contact we once had.

But what’s really hard is not losing friends. It’s not knowing how to make new ones.

In the past, I would have thought this was just me. I am shy. I am an introvert. It’s harder for me to make friends. But this is more common than we think. Studies show that men’s social networks tend to shrink dramatically after the age of 30, and they are less likely than women to maintain close friendships as adults.

In fact, a 2021 survey by the Survey Center on American Life found that the percentage of men who say they have no close friends has increased fivefold since 1990. And a report from Movember in the UK found that one in three men feel they have no close friends they can rely on.

It’s Not That We Don’t Want Friends

There’s this stereotype that men are loners by nature… that we’re “fine” as long as we have work, a partner, and a hobby. But that’s not true. Most of us do want close friendships. But as Simon Sinek points out in a discussion with Trevor Noah, we’ve never been taught how to cultivate our friendships. Everyone… not only men. Nobody told us how to be a friend, or even more so, how to be a good friend. Not intentionally, at least.

When we’re young, friendships come through shared activities. But later in life, as these shared activities are fading out of our lives, we’re expected to just figure it out.
“Call a friend.”
“Go hang out.”
It sounds easy, until you realise you haven’t actually done it in months… or years… and it suddenly feels so cringy and awkward.

For women, social culture tends to encourage emotional closeness, support, and conversation. For men, the focus is usually elsewhere… on doing something… achieving something. So when we enter a place like a milonga, we often don’t know how to shift gears. We focus on the dance, the technique, and the music. Not on the people. At least not at first.

And that makes forming friendships even slower.

Friendship by Repetition, Not By Declaration

What Tango offers men is a thing that gradually becomes rare in our times: a social context where intimacy can grow slowly, side by side, rather than face to face.

You don’t have to start with opening up your heart. You don’t need to prove your vulnerability or overshare to be accepted. You just need to show up… and let time do its work.

There’s a milonga I go to regularly where lately something quite simple but profound happens. I often sit next to another dancer, side by side. Sometimes we don’t say much at all. Sometimes we chat about everyday things. Other times, we end up diving deep into a conversation sparked by something I’ve written in a blog post. There’s no pressure. No forced sharing. Just two people sitting next to each other, with the comfort of time doing its work.

And I’ve come to understand that this is how many men prefer to connect.

Research backs this up. Audrey Nelson explains in a blog post how men frequently avoid eye contact, preferring side-by-side orientation, which reduces perceived competition and feels safer. In contrast, women use face‑to‑face positioning to foster connection and emotional clarity. Women, in my experience, seem to feel more at ease connecting face to face… directly… through words… eye contact… shared emotion. Men, on the other hand, often feel safer connecting side by side through shared presence, activity, or even silence.

That’s why shared activities, like sports, games, or in our case, Tango, can provide a bridge. A structure. A reason to be in the same room. Whether it’s sitting together in breaks between dancing or walking together after a milonga, this configuration allows space for connection to emerge naturally.

And that’s something Tango offers in abundance. You don’t always have to face someone to feel close. Sometimes you just need to be there. Together.

Tango: A Door We Didn’t Know We Needed

When I started dancing, I didn’t realise what kind of impact it would have on my life. At first, like many men, I entered Tango with a focus on learning the role of the leader, getting better at technique, and maybe eventually connecting with a few partners I felt comfortable with.

But over time, without even trying, something else started to happen.

I began building friendships.

Not in the “let’s go out for beers” kind of way. At least not at first. But I started recognising people. Exchanging smiles. Having small chats during breaks. Laughing at our mutual struggles in class. Making inside jokes about the same three steps we still couldn’t get right after six weeks.

And then, slowly, some of those connections grew.
I found myself having conversations after the milonga.
I found myself thinking, “Ah, nice… he’s here too tonight.”
And eventually, I found myself surrounded by a circle of people whom I could call friends. People I see regularly. People who notice when I am not around.

But it took time. And I believe that for many men, that’s the key.

Why It Is Different for Women (and That’s OK)

Something I’ve observed, and I don’t claim this is universal, but I’ve seen it enough to notice, is that women seem to have an easier time striking up conversations at the milonga. Maybe it’s because society has made it more acceptable for them to express themselves openly. I don’t know.

For men, it’s often harder.

Not because we’re cold or antisocial, but because we haven’t been taught to focus on connection. We’re trained to focus on skill, responsibility, and direction. Even in Tango, our attention goes to the structure, the timing, and the navigation.

But here is where time and consistency change everything.

You show up. You dance. You nod to someone across the room. One day, they ask you a question. Another day, you laugh together. Months later, you’re sharing coffee before the milonga.

This is how it works.
Slowly and with baby steps.

If I Were to Market Tango…

I wouldn’t start with a couple staring into each other’s eyes.
I’d start with people sitting side by side at a milonga.
Especially men.
Not talking much.
Just… being there.

One shows something on the dancefloor. The other chuckles. Small, simple interactions side by side… shoulder to shoulder.
Maybe later they’ll dance with someone. Maybe not.
Maybe next week they’ll talk a bit more. Maybe not.

But they keep coming back.
And slowly, something shifts.

In a world where men often aren’t encouraged to open up and connect,
Tango doesn’t ask.
It simply offers a place to show up.

It says:
“You don’t have to explain anything.”
“You don’t need to open up and share about your loneliness.”
“Nobody forces you to find friends”
“Just… come sit next to us.”

And in time, through a tanda, a misstep, a laugh, you will no longer be alone.

Tonight’s Goodnight Tango

Tonight’s Goodnight Tango is an invitation to guys to come to the dance floor.

So, how about you? Do you think there is merit in the argument that Tango can help men form friendships if they stick with it? Can we help with this process?

Do you know a man who could use a space like Tango, where connection grows without pressure or pretence? Share this with him. Let’s start inviting more men into spaces where they don’t have to explain their loneliness… just show up.

Comment below or join the discussion in the community

Need to talk privately? Contact me personally.

Or… just spread the word!