I am embarrassed to say, quite a few of these happen to be true.
You keep a pair of dance shoes in your car.
You wish you paid more attention in high school Spanish class.
You've sold or moved most of your furniture to give yourself practice space.
You make sure you never run out of breath mints.
You no longer freak out at the prospect of leading a boleo.
You travel interstate to tango.
You've had the big tango-fight with your partner - then your friends - then your teacher.
You listen to tango music when you're not at a practica or milonga.
You bring your ankles and knees together all the time, even in the elevator.
You plan the rest of your social life so it doesn't conflict with tango nights.
You own a bootleg copy of Tango Bar.
Your wardrobe is predominantly black.
Ocho is more than just a number.
Your fantasy travel destination is Buenos Aires.
You are unable to schedule major surgery without compromising tango commitments.
You now view the world in terms of people who tango and those unfortunate souls who don't.
You've progressed from the practice hold to full contact tango.
One of the most exciting things in the world is to dance tango with a complete stranger.
You have been known to sing in the ear of your partner while dancing.
You recognize that special glow in the night as another hotbed of tango erupts in the distance.
Your favorite color is tango black.
Friends and family automatically assume that you want tango-related birthday gifts.
You go through withdrawal without at least one tango-high per week.
Your descriptions of tango have shifted from "unbounded enthusiasm" to "you wouldn't understand..."
Your friends are secrectly plotting to kidnap you for a week of serious deprogramming.
You know who Carlos Gardel is.
You've stopped saying sorry when you screw up - you just tango out of the trouble you got into.
You have to work hard to maintain non-tango friendships (if you have any left).
You've been dancing a year and still don't get bored talking tango.
You have developed the ability to turn any conversation to tango within 2 minutes.
You no longer have parties at your house; you host milongas.
When you look in the mirror, you are usually looking at your feet.
Your shopping cart often substitutes as your dance partner.
You've figured out how to find the hidden tango sections in any record store.
Tango never fails to energize, no matter how tired you are.
Before traveling, you check out the net for tango events in that area.
You are willing to spend twice as much time driving to a milonga as you actually dance.
You automatically do something Tango-ish whenever you navigate through a crowd.
Your computer passwords at work are always phrases related to tango.
Your ear has been trained to recognize the tango possibilities in all forms of music.
You remember the place and partner with whom you danced your first real tango.
You bring your own tango CDs to wedding receptions to ensure that your requests will be played.
Tango has diminished, if not ruined, the appeal of every other dance you ever did.
Little else in your life gets done compared to your pre-tango days.
Your passion-index is much higher compared to your pre-tango days.
What pre-tango days?
You regularly shop the local Salvation Army to suppliment your tango wardrobe.
You have been spotted dancing tango in parking lots.
Posters for upcoming tango events are always magnetized to your refrigerator.
You have developed a healthy fear of foot injuries.
Your interest in shoes can easily be mistaken for a fetish.
You dance tango in your mind.
You have to dance. You have to dance.
You seek out stories from those who have danced tango in other countries.
The thought enters your mind that Johnny Cash was aware of tango black long before you.
You have found yourself caught in unusual situations that are best described as a Tango Moment.
You become associated with a signature move.
You have hosted someone from Buenos Aires at your home.
You can't resist dancing a few tango steps whenever you cross a wooden floor
You find that you sandwich feet far more often than shake hands
Whenever you wait in line, you must fight the urge to randomly gancho those around you
You've ditched the teacher who taught you all he knew, moved on to another travelling teacher, so you can pinch his moves and do demonstrations.
You've put your house on the market to support your tango habit
You're reading this to see if you are
Author Unkown
