It’s not the milongas you go to

Coming back from a break

It took me about three years to write this post. But better late than never.

In my previous post, I talked about how absence creates or highlights presence. That was about three weeks ago. Yes. I took a break from writing (or at least from posting) for a while. But the idea behind this post has been waiting patiently for three years to take shape. So… what’s three more weeks, really?

Before we dive in, if you enjoy ideas like this, you might also like the T-shirt designs inspired by them. You can check them out here. I like to see them as little wearable reminders of Tango’s hidden lessons.

The message that started it all

Three years ago, a friend sent me a research paper arguing that taking breaks from a pleasurable experience can make the whole experience more pleasurable. The example it used was commercial breaks during a movie.

My friend noted something that hit close to home: when we danced, I would often switch between open and close embrace. Every time I returned to the close embrace, she felt a new wave of joy. It was her favourite part of the dance.

“But the title doesn’t say anything about the embrace,” I hear you thinking. True. The science behind that paper points to something deeper. Something called the hedonic treadmill.

The hedonic treadmill

Have you ever chased a goal, achieved it, and then realised how quickly the satisfaction faded, leaving you strangely empty and searching for the next thing?

It’s the same pattern that fuels consumerism: “Oh, the new iPhone is out! I must have it.” . You get it, you love it… and three days later, you’re already thinking about the next model.

That’s the hedonic treadmill. The idea that the more we experience something pleasurable, the more our emotional response adapts, and the less joy it gives us.

I’ve seen it in many parts of life. For instance, I’ve always loved coding. I still do. But after years of doing it daily, the thrill of solving a problem isn’t as exciting as it once was.

And Tango? It’s no exception.

You can see it in some teachers or professionals: the friction of constant exposure muddies the magic. Even on stage, some seem to move through choreography like it’s a chore.

In the beginning, Tango can be almost addictive. You crave more and more. Every tanda feels different, special… alive. But after some years, even for social dancers like you and me, that intensity can fade away.

So how do we keep the pleasure alive?

My accidental discovery

I didn’t plan for it; it just happened.

I started learning Tango with my partner. When she quit, I had to find a balance between Tango and my relationship. That naturally limited how much time I spent on Tango. I couldn’t go to milongas every night or travel to every event. These days, I usually dance one or two milongas a week and maybe attend three or four events a year.

And then… there are always natural pauses. Christmas, Easter, or simply periods when life takes over.

In the beginning, those breaks felt unbearable. But over the years, I noticed something curious: they were actually keeping the magic alive.

Whenever I danced too much, several days in a row, or week after week, I started to feel a little… bored. Not unhappy, but dulled. The tandas began to blur together; moments that once stood out felt like nothing special. By the end, it all became a bunch of tandas, embraces and orchestras.

But after a break?

Every tanda felt special again.
The embrace … like rediscovering a lost love.
The music… new, alive, full of colour.
The moments… imprinted in my memory with much bolder ink.

The science behind the feeling

When I looked deeper into the research my friend had sent me years ago, I realised I had been accidentally applying its findings.

The paper explained that when you reach the point where pleasure flattens out… when the joy fades into routine… taking a break resets your system. You return from absence with renewed sensitivity and appetite for the experience.

This process is called hedonic adaptation. Every pleasure gives you a high until you adapt to it. When you stop for a while, your emotional baseline returns to normal. And when you come back, the pleasure feels vivid again.

In other words, sometimes, to love something longer, you have to step away from it from time to time.

By the way… if you haven’t noticed yet…
The Rejection survey results are out.
👉 Check out the episodes here

Miles Davis once again

All this brings us back to the quote by Miles Davis that triggered my previous post. The quote that teaches us about how absence shapes presence.

If you want your Tango journey to stay meaningful and joyful over time, you need to create that space… pauses that make the dance shimmer again.

Create moments of absence… of emptiness… and the moments of presence will shine brighter than ever.

Or, to paraphrase Miles Davis one more time:

It’s not the milongas you visit,

it’s the milongas you don’t visit.

If you want a small reminder of that philosophy, you can wear it too. Check out the merchandise collection inspired by this idea.

Tonight’s Goodnight Tango

Tonight’s Goodnight Tango is a piece that has quite a lot of moments of ups and downs. Of space and presence. Observe how you feel every time the orchestra returns to the fullest after each quiet, slow and spacious solo. For me, the melody… although the same… comes back stronger, fresher, even more enjoyable than before.

So how about you? How often do you take intentional breaks from Tango to strengthen your love and enjoyment of it? How do you feel every time you come back?

Comment below or join the discussion in the community

Need to talk privately? Contact me personally.

Or… just spread the word!