Wow. That was some hiatus. I apologize. Although the alignment of the last entry's Easter happenings of the past and the passing of Easter this weekend somehow seems like divine flow. At least, that will be the excuse I use.
I also have been resisting the next and hopefully LAST entry regarding Big Heartbreaker/Bobble Head. BUT this weekend, I felt the last shackle of pain that I held around my heart for him break and fall away, something I can only describe as a miracle. When I imagine him madly in love and committed to his present girlfriend, I actually feel peace. So, I'll trudge on with this tale.
My Show Best Friend had given me the go-ahead; now I was sitting in the middle of my murphy bed in San Francisco, staring at my phone, wondering how I was going to get the balls up to call him. I did. Got his voicemail, mercifully. "Hi. I'm returning to New York tomorrow and I want to be able to see you socially without things being awkward and I think we have a lot of things to say to one another. Can we meet up, alone, when I get back?"
And through what seemed like eternal phone-tag, we arranged to meet at The Joshua Tree on Restaurant Row, a Midtown hang that we frequented with the Straight Guy Theatre Crew. It was quite a thing to meet up there alone. Risky at the time. (By the way, I was just in New York this winter and it's no longer there. Huh.) He was waiting for me at a table when I got there. I wanted to strangle my heart for fluttering in my chest. The sickness in my stomach made up for it, however. I had a job to do. We had something to settle. I stiffened my spine, ready for business.
After some small talk about what we were doing over the last two months, we got down to the nitty gritty. "Can you just tell me what I said?" BH eventually said, with sadness. I wished he wasn't. I liked my confrontations feisty, filled with snark and self-righteousness. His soft, almost kind tone was close to breaking me. I started to list the things he'd said:
"That you'd never met anyone like me-"
"That's true," he interrupted.
Rattled, I continued, "And that we have this thing between us that is so easy and yet so challenging and so right-"
"I do feel that."
I welled up. "That I finished thoughts for you and you for me-"
He laughed. "Well...yeah."
My heart started to soar. This was the big one."You said you loved me."
Without blinking he said, "I do."
I just shook my head, horribly confused. There was something very, very OFF. If all of this was true, then whyyyyy wasn't it worrrrking?! Or even been given a chance?! So I swallowed and continued, "And that you wished you weren't the way you were right now-"
"Well, Kath, I think I was just saying I wish I wasn't so drunk so that I could explain myself better." (Note that he "thinks" because he actually doesn't remember.)
"Really? Meaning?"
He paused. "Look, I think that you...being not so experienced...that that night meant something... more to you. Than me."
I guess it's important here to be clear: we did not have actual sex. After ten martinis or more, what guy could? And he was right, my sexual encounters were few and far between. I like emotional torture more than climaxing, obviously. HOWEVER, no matter WHAT the facts were regarding my experience, the condescending tone of his analysis made me hunker down and glarrrrrre, hoping to bore a hole in between his eyes. And none of his confirmations from before mattered now. I managed to swallow the bile in the back of my throat and said something to the effect of, "Well, that's an interesting opinion you have of me, BH." It was quiet for a while.
The crack in the Universe I'd heard made everything after a blur. I'm sure he asked if we'd "be cool" now and I nodded numbly. We probably caught up on what the SGTC was up to; I'm sure Cool Girl even laughed a bit.
When I walked out of Joshua Tree, tears silently fell down my cheeks as I walked to the subway. One of my biggest fears, that being a "Good Girl" would get me nowhere just exploded all over and the love of my life just rejected me because being intimate "meant too much" to me. I wish I could tell you I went out and decided to be a whore, but I didn't. Instead, for years, I sat in the loving cocoon of gay friendship and avoided the possibility of straight male attention all together. Became a sort of Guru with relationship ADVICE, however. Only spending time observing relationships instead of being IN one...you learn a lot of things.
BH & I managed an awkward friendship for years. I tried soooo harrrrrd to prove his All-or-Nothing theory he'd laid down that Valentine's Day about us wrong. Cool Girl pulled out all of the stops. He started dating a girl soon after our talk; I did not like her. Of course I didn't, but she was pretty rude to me and made it pretty easy not to. I give people three strikes, then...you're OUT. BH & I even had dinner together alone where I explained why I wasn't a fan. He seemed genuinely concerned that I "wouldn't give her a chance." I never understood why my opinion mattered so much to him. Even took the issue to my therapist, who thought it was suspect. God, I love her.
The dam broke at some point and BH and I were not speaking. I seem to remember him yelling at me for some reason. (HE IS SO MUCH LIKE MY OLDER BROTHER. It's freaking creepy.) His father had been battling cancer for many years and one Wednesday in between shows, A Brothah From Another Muthah called and told me he had died a few days before. BH and his dad were very close. Without a doubt I was going to go to the funeral in Jersey which was the next morning. I asked ABFAM how people were getting there and he said that he was riding with the SGTC and BH's girlfriend in a van they'd rented and that I should call The Canadian who was driving. I left a message and during the evening show, TC called back and said that he was sorry but there was no room in the van for me.
There was a part of me that wanted to throw a fit and say, "Of COURSE, there's not enough room for me! THERE IS NEVER ENOUGH ROOM FOR ME." But I bitch-slapped myself in my head and yelled, "Get over it! This ain't about YOU." and I did. I asked one of the sweet backstage crew guys during intermission if I could use his computer and sitting at his desk in my ridiculous Emerald City costume, found all of the info: when, where, what train and were there cabs available. The next morning, I walked into the church alone.
It was a modern church and there was no casket. I think there was a photo of BH's dad with flowers on it...BH was in the front row of course with his brother, his mom, and his girlfriend. It's like I could feel the waves of grief rolling off of him...I couldn't fathom that it wasn't me next to him. I was selfish. Very very selfish in that moment. I wanted to be his soft place to fall. Gathering my wits and fighting the urge to run up the aisle to him, I scanned the pews and locked eyes with Kansas Fan, who was sitting with ABFAM and the rest of the SGTC. He was shocked, thrilled, heartbroken in all of two seconds and then he grabbed me in a bear hug and brought me to sit next to him. I've never seen a more devastated group of guys. ABFAM practically put me in a head lock as he said, "I'm so glad you made it," in my ear.
There was a string quartet on the altar and two of the guys I recognized as close friends of BH and quite arguably, the best players in the city.Their playing went beyond performance; it was like all of them had no words for the sympathy they felt so, instead, put everything they had into the music to let BH & his family know. I knew BH chose all of the selections with intention. The minister who spoke gave an amazing Eulogy, being an actual friend and counselor to his dad, and gave us all the gift of the deepest truths that he'd lived by even in his darkest hour. He never lost his sense of humor, even while battling cancer for many, many years. It was a speech that brought laughter through tears and hearing that joyful release from the front row made me release a breath I did not know I was holding. BH was okay. He'd be okay.
Then, the quartet played again for a meditation period and thinking of it now... I wish I knew what it was, but I remember in my mind's eye actually seeing BH's dad lifted from the agony of this world and brought into the arms of Eternal Love. I'd had a real earth-shattering religious experience with the boys in that pew, told by the overwhelmingly perfect music. And at the end, the piece seemed to acknowledge our collective pain and somehow let us know that we were not alone and would be okay. My shoulders shook uncontrollably as I grieved for my friend, ashamed of the love I withheld because I was too proud or too hurt to just be there for him in the way he needed. KF was a dear and stroked my back as I tried to fold myself in half while praying on my knees for the strength to face him.
When all was over, we all gathered as best we could, trying to be strong as we waited to greet the family in the back of the church. I saw BH's brother first; he's an actor and it was surreal watching two of his famous friends take him in their arms. And then BH walked out of the dark doorway into the blazing sunlight. His face was flushed from crying, hair wild from running his hands through it. I held back as he took in the SGTC around him, my shame keeping me at bay. With his hand on my back, ABFAM gently guided me and presented me to BH in silence. The. Look. On. His. Face. *sigh* If surprise, relief, regret, grief, gratitude, warmth, love could all happen in one moment, it did. We said nothing, but charged into each others arms, crying into each others shoulders. He thanked me so much for coming and I told him I was so, so sorry, both of us whispering in each others ears. We sobbed. It felt like we stayed like that forever. When we finally parted and our eyes met, we both ended up laughing at the mess, and BH couldn't resist joking, "Well, I guess THAT'S over with, whatever THAT was." I smiled and touched his face. We embraced again and I said, "I love you so much." He replied, "I love you, too."
There was a reception after that I decided not to go to; I had rehearsal back in the city in a few hours and the NJ Transit trains were dicey. There was the awkward moment where the SGTC and BH's girlfriend gathered in the parking lot as I waited for a cab. ABFAM asked several times if I would go to the luncheon. All of a sudden there was room for me? I just shook my head and said it would probably be best if I didn't. I gave him a card that I had written for BH last night, thinking I might not even get to talk to him. I begged them to go ahead, that I'd be fine but TC insisted that they wait until my car came. Which left me and BH's girlfriend with too much time on our hands. I took a deep breath and mustered up the most sincere greeting I could, dripping with defeat. It was the nicest I had been since the first three chances I gave her. She was civil. Defeated as well, perhaps. I asked how everyone was doing and she gave the usual as-well-as-to-be-expected answer. The boys tried to make it easier for us. I was exhausted and just listened a bunch. Then, the conversation turned unto the topic of show-biz talk. The kind I hate. About this audition and that audition. She went on and on. We just went through a beautiful service remembering the father of the man she loved and she was talking about The Fucking Lion King. I prayed, no, WILLED that cab to get here. I guess I wasn't hiding my feelings very well because TC looked like he was prepped to jump in and stop me from attacking her at any given moment. The cab saved me from becoming a murderer, I said my goodbyes and left. I just kept thinking, "If that's what he wants in someone, that's what he wants in someone. You can't do anything about it. She makes him happy. It doesn't HAVE to make sense to you; it has to make sense to him." The cab driver must have thought I was crazy because I was shaking my head all the way to the train.
BH wrote me an email later that day, thanking me for my card and telling me it meant a lot that I came. I think it was the one and only email he's ever written to me without me writing first. (I still have it. Waaaay back in my inbox. From 8 years ago. I'm an asshole.) His father came to me in a dream that night. He told me that my love was not in vain and that he was glad I was there for BH. I woke up with dried tears on my face.
Yet, after awlllll thaaaaaat, it ends up that BH was right that Valentine's Night- we are no longer friends. Years later, I was going out of town to do Shakespeare in CT and ABFAM was headed on tour, so there were several See-Ya-Later events that week. I saw BH very little to begin with those days, so 2 days in a row was a big deal. His girlfriend, who he's been on and off with during the years, was there. They were "on" apparently. I said a chilly hello to her and that was it. I dodged her the rest of the evening.
Sitting in my apartment in CT, I saw BH playing for someone on VH1's Storytellers and playfully texteded him about it. He wrote back, "Oh, that old thing." And then he asked me if I could at least pretend to like his girlfriend when I saw her. I told him I didn't think I could, but that I would try to avoid her so I wouldn't have to. This started a balls-out text war which ended our friendship for good. Via TEXT, for Christ's Sake.
Enter the Little One at Day Three of Rehearsal, the first guy I had let into my heart in ages. He healed me more than he could ever know. He held my hand in public. He opened doors for me. He cuddled with me on the couch when I brought him over to watch football with a bunch of old friends. One of the SGTC even commented, "I've never even SEEN you be with a guy like that. You know, NOT on the DL."
The biggest confrontation I face in telling this long-assed friggin' story is with myself: Why is doing things on the DL so appealing, what am I so afraid of, what do I think is going to happen to me if I let people know I'm vulnerable or, God-forbid, in LOVE? I heard a speaker say the other night, "Most people think you have to bring Light to the Darkness, but ACTually, you have to bring the Darkness TO the Light." Putting this last part of the BH puzzle out in the Universe, something I have held close and in secret with such shame around it for so long, is an exercise in that. I'm looking forward to lightening up.
