Back in the day, I used to talk about my capacity to love like a great violinist with no violin to play. I'd pace up and down Ninth Avenue with a favorite gay, talking about how big it felt inside, this potential I had in me, with no real outlet. "I'm just waiting for my violin!" I'd shout, fists shaking in the air.
Did I mention Big Heartbreaker is a violin player.? Yep-puh. One of the best I've ever heard.
I left you on the street in Midtown Manhattan, giddy and blushing with joy over the two minute phone call I'd had with BH. I was now on Cloud Nine. I became bold. So bold, in fact, that I called A Brother From Another Mothah to tell him the news. "I spent the night with BH last night," I blurted out. I was met with stone-cold silence and then ABFAM said a quick goodbye. I had broke the Bro Code.
Next time I was with the Straight Guy Theatre Crew, Cool Girl had redoubled her efforts. It was also the first time I saw BH. He said hello from across the room with a look in his eye that kept me from approaching him. I became steely. I sat through talk of porn: favorite positions, real tits vs. fake tits, even how they liked their bush, bald or natural. BH made a point of giving his opinion on that last topic while he stared right at me. I turned the color of beets and ran up to the bar for another drink. When I came back, my Hippie Contortionist Friend had joined us; she was a sight for sore eyes. Cool Girl was loosing her grip. She and ABFAM had started hooking up recently, a pairing that was surprising to the rest of us but made things fun. She's fun times.
The night ended without incident and also without acknowledgement. But HCF and I confided in each other all of our feelings about these boys on our own time and I think I would have gone bat-shit crazy without her. One night, we were in a marathon over-share while on the Long Island Rail Road, I wanna say. We fessed up all of our never-to-be mentioned secrets; I gave her every last detail of Valentine's Day, including BH's rant about his feelings for me and my spaztic state of mind ever since. The next time I spoke alone to BH was to let him know I told ABFAM; "I KNOW you did," he growled at me; I had never wanted to share how that made me feel but trusted HCF with the humiliation. She was an insider. She got it. We traded theories on the psychology of the group like goddamn Dr. Phil and Oprah. The best thing was that she was supportive in the idea of me & BH as a couple. "He said he wished that he wasn't this way...so I just have to wait it out, right?! Like, he's messed up about his break-up and needs a minute. It's just too soon." I picked apart every word he had said for HCFs opinion and built a case that no one could argue against.
So BH & I danced around each other amongst this group for weeks; there was sexual innuendo when enough alcohol was involved, but Cool Girl was getting more and more sarcastic and generally snarky. All the while HCF & ABFAM were openly affectionate and entirely into one another. It was on Easter when Cool Girl lost her resolve.
I was house sitting for friends in Queens very close to where BH lived. I called and he answered which was amazing in itself. After a few minutes of friendly banter, I dove in. "I'm house sitting around the corner; why don't you come over?" "I don't think that's a good idea." "It's so close. When do we ever get to be alone?" I was practically begging; in the moment, even I heard it in my voice. Then BH got harsh. "Look, this is not going to be what you want it to be, okay? I know what you think. HCF told me." My heart went into my stomach. She could have said many, many things. "What did she tell you?" I croaked out. "That you're just waiting for me to get sober, stop drinking or whatever because then you think we can be together."
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!"
You know that rarest of moments when what you say & how you say it match perfectly to what is going on in your head? Yeah. It was the "What" Heard 'Round the World. I. Was. Pissed.
"I never, ever said that, BH. Ever." "Well, that's what she said." "And you chose to believe her over me? You have been so fucked up and distant with me because of what SHE said and never ONCE thought about ASKING me about it?!" Beat. "Well, what DID you say?" he asks.
I welled up. Took a big breath. Was silent for a while. He even said my name to make sure I was there.
I chose to tell him the truth. At least part of it.
"Well, you said all of those things to me that night and I figured you'd let me know when you were ready to try something real, because you said you wished you weren't the way you were right then, and I figured you were fucked up from your break-up..." I trailed off. Now it was BH's turn to be silent. I said his name to make sure he was still there.
And then it hit me like a Mack truck: he didn't remember annnything from that night. Not one word he'd said to me. Not one fucking thing.
I gasped at the realization. And I asked him out loud if that was the truth. "What did I say to you?" was my answer. I didn't think it was possible for me to turn more red, but I managed. The human body is an amazing thing.
"I cannot believe this is happening, I cannot believe this is happening," I kept repeating as he begged me to tell him what he'd said. How the tables had turned. "You don't deserve to know," I whispered. He sighed. "Well, what do we do now?" "I'll tell you what I'M going to do. I'm going to San Francisco for two months to do my work and I'm not speaking to you the entire time. That's what I'm doin'." "Well...that sucks." he responded quietly. "Yeah. Lots of things suck." And I hung up. And wailed. Deep wails from my guts that felt like my soul was being wrung out.
At one point, I thought of it being the feast of the Resurrection and yet I felt like I was just dead and buried. And I laughed at the drama of my inner monologue. It's the only thing that stopped my tears.
So I had all of this spaaaace now in my head that BH used to occupy. The only thing that stopped me from imploding was falling in love with San Fran, I think. It took up that space. That, and practically living in a chilly dark theatre while helping create a big, fat hit of a show. It was appropriate; my heart needed to hibernate.
At the end of my San Fran stay, I found myself confessing things to My Show Best Friend on pillows she had bought for the two month stay, from Marshalls, of course. "I've been thinking of contacting him when I get back," I said while picking at the beaded silk in my lap. "You know, to talk to him. To hash it out. We just have so many friends in common..." MSBF found my eyes and asked me, straight up, "If today he said, 'I wanna be with you. Come back and be with me.' would you take him up on his offer?"
I felt the ice-cap melting...
"Yes. Yes I would."
"Then, you should call him."
And I did.
Showing posts with label truthiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label truthiness. Show all posts
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Cracked
Back in NYC again. Its Tony Time and all I wanna do on my trip is see shows. A couple of my good friends get together to see another good friend in her show and we do the whole backstage rigmarole afterwards. Now, there is a man in the show that me and my Wicked Friend Who Saves the Children have worked with before. We’re having a debate on whether or not to approach him and say hi- will he remember us, won’t he. We both are leaning towards the side of “He’ll never have any idea who I am.” For my purposes, I’ll call him Garrison David.
About to make a beeline to the elevator, I instead decide to put on the brakes and stop to say hi to Mr. David in the doorway, truly expecting dead eyes. Well, to my surprise, he lit up like a Christmas Tree and WFWSC was next to me, impressed. “Hiiiiii! You came to see your girl in our show?!” “Yes, yes and you were fantastic, too!” “Well how about you? You’re doing well, I hear!” Before I can ask what he’s heard he says, “I mean, I see! You’re on the sides of buses all over town!” Now, I am NOT on buses all over town, but the girl who did Wicked on tour w Garrison IS, because she has a hit TV show. And I…CRACKED. I mean, my face SPLIT in two. WFWSC is still next to me shaking with joy, trying not to burst and I really just want to make my escape to the elevator, so I don’t correct him. “Yeah, things are good. Just in for a visit! Exciting stuff.” Thanks, Cool Girl. Garrison turns to WFWSC and starts to introduce himself and she says through a HUGE smile, “Oh, I did Broadway with you for a minute. I’ve straightened my hair so I look different…” “Oh my GOD, of COURSE,” he gushes and we skedaddle into the elevator where I lean against the wall cracking up as WFWSC manages to recount the events for the rest of our friends. Oh, if that was the only time I cracked this week.
I’ve reached out to The Unicorn to have a hang. He invited me to his Improv show the same night as the play so I couldn’t attend but we made plans to see each other a few nights later. Now, he knows nothing of my blog or the stage reading of my blog I am planning during this trip and most of all he does not know my true feelings about him. That is to say, the words have never come out of my mouth. I’ve tried so often to say it with my eeeyes…
I meet up with him in Worldwide Plaza, a place he’s never been but where I practically lived when I was here and we get interrupted by people I know quite a bit. “Everyone’s just so happy to see you. All the time. Wherever we go,” he says to me. And for some reason I feel the need to apologize for that. And I don’t mention that my friend Flute Playah is seeing a show in the same complex as us and may meet up later. I’m all kinds of in my head about everything.
So after a very short, pointless musical, I wait around after to chat with more friends who were in the thing and watching the thing. The Unicorn excuses himself and takes a phone call outside. I see Flute Playah as I’m heading out and he’s waiting for HIS friends in the show HE saw and we all decide to head to a cafe across the street for drinks and stuff. But I guess the two never really met. And we sit at separate tables in the restaurant so they really had no interaction. Until we’re walking to the subway.
As we’re headed along 42nd street, the very first thing Flute Playah says to The Unicorn is, “So are you coming to Cool Girl’s show Sunday night?” *CRAAACK* My hand turns into a claw and grips Flute Playah’s shoulder. My eyes are crazed with panic as I stare him down. We both start giggling uncomfortably. Finally, The Unicorn interjects, “Oh, I have to go to Boston this weekend. My friend’s parent died. That was the phone call I took. But what are you doing on Sunday?” He looks at me and I wanna crawl into a hole because of the small amount of hurt I see there. I start to ramble. “Well, it really isn’t anything yet, just an idea I’d like to work out in front of…like if 10, 15 people come, I’d be thrilled, just my inner INNER circle I invited, if you know what I mean…” Smooth, Cool Girl. Just tell the boy he’s not in your inner circle. What kind of jackass are you?
Flute Playah and his boyfriend slip out to get on the A train and I awkwardly leave The Unicorn on the subway platform waiting for the express while I get on the 1. I’m pretty sure I banged my head on the closing doors instead of standing clear like the nice man asked me on the PA. I get uptown and call Flute Playah immediately. I may have screamed into the phone. “You’re supposed to be my best Gay!!! What have you doooone?!?!” I’m doing that horrible laughing while panicked thing as he defends, “I didn’t KNOW it was HIM. You didn’t introDUCE meeee!!” And then we got down to the nitty gritty. I held my head in my hands and FP quietly suggested, “Maybe its time to tell him the truth.” It was after midnight by the time we hung up and I was not going to wake him up to talk about this. Instead I wrote him an email:
Re: Hiya. Remember earlier when I said I wasn’t a good liar? Well…
I think I turned a knife in Cool Girl’s gut that night. Needless to say, very little sleep was had.
The next morning was a slow one for me, spent mainly emailing students and friends and catching up on things I had fallen behind on while on this trip. I’d left to go out for the day and there was no response as of yet.
I met up with a friend for coffee before I who is an avid reader of Cool Girl Is Dead because she totally relates. I told her all of the previous night’s events and we laughed until we cried. I was putting up a brave front.
She gives me a big hug at the door of the massage place’s building and right before I enter, my phone beeps. It’s an email from him.
I scan quickly through the email and tears come to my eyes. I won’t print his response here but I will tell you he used the word “friendship” four times and “friend” once.
I see the sweet Larry the Rub Guy and I fall apart. Every time I see him it seems like I’m going through a major life crisis of some sort. He always listens, to every part, by the way. I lay face down on the massage table and my tears fall through the opening of the headrest. And I thank God for LRG.
Everyone keeps telling me how “brave” it is that I’m doing this and how “courageous” I am for “speaking my truth”. All I can say is the last thing I wanna do is be brave. I wanna lay like a pile of fleshy pulp and have someone pick me up from the middle of the street and take care of me. In the movie The Family Stone, Luke Wilson’s character talks to Sarah Jessica Parker’s about a dream he’s had about her. He says something to the effect of, “You were a little girl and you were shoveling snow. Except I was the snow. Everywhere. And you were scooping me up.” That’s the relief I want. Just to be taken care of for five minutes. That would be just so…nice.
And of course, all I wanna do now is be a total whore. I wanna make bad decisions. And I want a LOT of chocolate brownies. But empty calories will not fill up these cracks.
About to make a beeline to the elevator, I instead decide to put on the brakes and stop to say hi to Mr. David in the doorway, truly expecting dead eyes. Well, to my surprise, he lit up like a Christmas Tree and WFWSC was next to me, impressed. “Hiiiiii! You came to see your girl in our show?!” “Yes, yes and you were fantastic, too!” “Well how about you? You’re doing well, I hear!” Before I can ask what he’s heard he says, “I mean, I see! You’re on the sides of buses all over town!” Now, I am NOT on buses all over town, but the girl who did Wicked on tour w Garrison IS, because she has a hit TV show. And I…CRACKED. I mean, my face SPLIT in two. WFWSC is still next to me shaking with joy, trying not to burst and I really just want to make my escape to the elevator, so I don’t correct him. “Yeah, things are good. Just in for a visit! Exciting stuff.” Thanks, Cool Girl. Garrison turns to WFWSC and starts to introduce himself and she says through a HUGE smile, “Oh, I did Broadway with you for a minute. I’ve straightened my hair so I look different…” “Oh my GOD, of COURSE,” he gushes and we skedaddle into the elevator where I lean against the wall cracking up as WFWSC manages to recount the events for the rest of our friends. Oh, if that was the only time I cracked this week.
I’ve reached out to The Unicorn to have a hang. He invited me to his Improv show the same night as the play so I couldn’t attend but we made plans to see each other a few nights later. Now, he knows nothing of my blog or the stage reading of my blog I am planning during this trip and most of all he does not know my true feelings about him. That is to say, the words have never come out of my mouth. I’ve tried so often to say it with my eeeyes…
I meet up with him in Worldwide Plaza, a place he’s never been but where I practically lived when I was here and we get interrupted by people I know quite a bit. “Everyone’s just so happy to see you. All the time. Wherever we go,” he says to me. And for some reason I feel the need to apologize for that. And I don’t mention that my friend Flute Playah is seeing a show in the same complex as us and may meet up later. I’m all kinds of in my head about everything.
So after a very short, pointless musical, I wait around after to chat with more friends who were in the thing and watching the thing. The Unicorn excuses himself and takes a phone call outside. I see Flute Playah as I’m heading out and he’s waiting for HIS friends in the show HE saw and we all decide to head to a cafe across the street for drinks and stuff. But I guess the two never really met. And we sit at separate tables in the restaurant so they really had no interaction. Until we’re walking to the subway.
As we’re headed along 42nd street, the very first thing Flute Playah says to The Unicorn is, “So are you coming to Cool Girl’s show Sunday night?” *CRAAACK* My hand turns into a claw and grips Flute Playah’s shoulder. My eyes are crazed with panic as I stare him down. We both start giggling uncomfortably. Finally, The Unicorn interjects, “Oh, I have to go to Boston this weekend. My friend’s parent died. That was the phone call I took. But what are you doing on Sunday?” He looks at me and I wanna crawl into a hole because of the small amount of hurt I see there. I start to ramble. “Well, it really isn’t anything yet, just an idea I’d like to work out in front of…like if 10, 15 people come, I’d be thrilled, just my inner INNER circle I invited, if you know what I mean…” Smooth, Cool Girl. Just tell the boy he’s not in your inner circle. What kind of jackass are you?
Flute Playah and his boyfriend slip out to get on the A train and I awkwardly leave The Unicorn on the subway platform waiting for the express while I get on the 1. I’m pretty sure I banged my head on the closing doors instead of standing clear like the nice man asked me on the PA. I get uptown and call Flute Playah immediately. I may have screamed into the phone. “You’re supposed to be my best Gay!!! What have you doooone?!?!” I’m doing that horrible laughing while panicked thing as he defends, “I didn’t KNOW it was HIM. You didn’t introDUCE meeee!!” And then we got down to the nitty gritty. I held my head in my hands and FP quietly suggested, “Maybe its time to tell him the truth.” It was after midnight by the time we hung up and I was not going to wake him up to talk about this. Instead I wrote him an email:
Re: Hiya. Remember earlier when I said I wasn’t a good liar? Well…
I'm really not. And I think you may of have an inkling of when I was bullshitting my way out of being busted by my friend Jason tonight.
This is so hard for me to do, and I went to call you three times after I got in tonight but I know you're getting up for work tomorrow and I didn't want you to have to deal with MY crap when you were trying to go to bed.
*deep breath*
K, I actually am only inviting a small group of peeps to see this show on Sunday night. It will be one of the hardest things I've ever done bc its crazy personal and is ACTually about MY life and not about a character I've made up or anything. And the reason why I never told you about it is because I plan to talk about you in it. Names have been changed to protect the innocent, of course.
There are things that I cop to in the play that I haven't confessed to you, although I feel like you must have a tiny glimmer of my feelings at the VERY least... I stupidly thought that I could get away with quite literally going behind your back and do this without actually telling you. I'm a fool, really.
The truth is when you say things like "I wish you still lived here", I want to scream back "MEEEEE TOOOOO!" bc one of the hardest things about being away is not getting to spend time with you. And then, when I reeeally listen to what you're saying, I realize that it may just be bc you think I'm a really good Julie from the Love Boat or something...
The truth is that when I met you, I had given up on believing that a guy like you even exSISTed, let alone could roll up into my life. There are so many things that are a part of me that I feel like most people our age aren't even open to hearing about, like Mass or Faith or how I think sex is a precious thing and I don't give it away for shits and giggles; things that I would never feel the need to hide from you. Its so freeing knowing someone out there actually gets all that stuff w/o judgement or fear of them looking at me like I'm from Mars or something.
The truth is that I am crazy about you. You make me laugh. And think. And wanna be a better person. And I could just fall into your face sometimes... I am so going out on a limb here that its crazy but I realize that even if you don't return my feelings, I will not die and actually telling the truth will be better for me in the end. I am trusting that it is what God wants me to do. Bc its right.
If you're reading this, its bc I had the balls to hit 'send'. Good for me.
I hope you can forgive me for feeling like it was okay to tell "the world" all of this before I actually told you. And I am praying you opened this at a time that wasn't totally filling your life with fuckery.
KD
I think I turned a knife in Cool Girl’s gut that night. Needless to say, very little sleep was had.
The next morning was a slow one for me, spent mainly emailing students and friends and catching up on things I had fallen behind on while on this trip. I’d left to go out for the day and there was no response as of yet.
I met up with a friend for coffee before I who is an avid reader of Cool Girl Is Dead because she totally relates. I told her all of the previous night’s events and we laughed until we cried. I was putting up a brave front.
She gives me a big hug at the door of the massage place’s building and right before I enter, my phone beeps. It’s an email from him.
I scan quickly through the email and tears come to my eyes. I won’t print his response here but I will tell you he used the word “friendship” four times and “friend” once.
I see the sweet Larry the Rub Guy and I fall apart. Every time I see him it seems like I’m going through a major life crisis of some sort. He always listens, to every part, by the way. I lay face down on the massage table and my tears fall through the opening of the headrest. And I thank God for LRG.
Everyone keeps telling me how “brave” it is that I’m doing this and how “courageous” I am for “speaking my truth”. All I can say is the last thing I wanna do is be brave. I wanna lay like a pile of fleshy pulp and have someone pick me up from the middle of the street and take care of me. In the movie The Family Stone, Luke Wilson’s character talks to Sarah Jessica Parker’s about a dream he’s had about her. He says something to the effect of, “You were a little girl and you were shoveling snow. Except I was the snow. Everywhere. And you were scooping me up.” That’s the relief I want. Just to be taken care of for five minutes. That would be just so…nice.
And of course, all I wanna do now is be a total whore. I wanna make bad decisions. And I want a LOT of chocolate brownies. But empty calories will not fill up these cracks.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Blizzard
Effing cold. Its effing cold here in New York. I wanted a White Christmas and one snuck in just under the wire that night. And another one is coming. Happy New Year.
It actually IS a happy 2011; many beautiful things are a-brewin' in the Year of Fruition, as my insightful roommate has dubbed it. Our hard work in LA has had a major breakthrough, I actually have had a job I applied for back in November call me, which is extraordinary. Now if I could just get Cool Girl to knock it the fuck off.
So I left you in LA, hanging as it were, with the Little One invading my space. Literally. God provided an intervention in the form of an audition for a Broadway play in New York that I had to pick up and run to. The play is Neil LaBute's FAT PIG and is about a guy who dates a very overweight girl and is madly in love with her but is so embarrassed that he is with her, that he hides her from his work friends, who are horrible, horrible people. The part was for the title character. I hate this play and generally do not enjoy Mr. LaBute's work. To be precise, his plays make me want to write answer plays like rappers did in the 80's; the song may have a good beat to it, but GOD is the message awful. And the thought of being googled for the rest of my life and having "FAT PIG" come up next to my name was not my ego's idea of a good time. But my ego WAS down with the idea of creating a role on Broadway that I could be Tony Nominated for...oooooh.
So I went.
Preparing for the audition ended up bringing me face to face with one of my awful core beliefs; that I was too fat to be truly loved; if someone loved me, it was because I did all I could to get them forget what I looked like. (Ask me if I think this has ever worked, by the way.) I am so self-hating that I actually have a phobia of chubby-chasers. Its true. I am currently undergoing hypnotherapy to deal with this issue- I'd like to lose the weight or accept myself at the weight I am or, best case scenario, both. Right now, its neither and it really can't continue if I expect to be in a healthy, non-Cool-Girl relationship with someone.
Cool Girl was created when I realized that being overweight was the kiss of death when it came to boys, at arooound kindergarden when I was chasing Danny O around the giant cement turtle in the schoolyard. I have since come to know, intellectually, that this is ridiculous but not until Cool Girl made her way into every relationship with a guy I've ever had. And my heart, my poor heart, already believed this to be true. It needs to be bitch-slapped.
I should confess that once I wrote the first sentence of the paragraph above, I was not able to get beyond it for a good nine days. You know when you write something so true about yourself, it stops you cold, the truth ringing in your ears, taking up all your head space? Well, that happened. And I've sat on it for a week and a half.
K- back to FAT PIG and all the unearthing it did to me just auDItioning for the damn thing. I gave the best, TONY award-winning performance I could at that audition, and left floating on cloud nine. Practically buzzing, I wandered along Fifth Ave., checked out the store windows tricked out for Christmas and called the Unicorn. I was going to meet him near his work on the Upper East Side, and by the time I got there I was sweaty & starving. It was a great pub named for some Irish Movie or some movie set in Ireland and had Guinness but NO FOOD. They give you small bags of chips at the bar as a condolence. I'm sure you're predicting this whole scenario- I am about to get wasted on one drink with the Unicorn. Key-Righst.
He's lovely, as usual. I wanna fall into his face. I wanna take his huge hand in mine and kiss every knuckle, I wanna tug on the thick hair on his head as I attack his mouth. This is probably TMI...but what I ACTually do is talk about how hungry I am and how I walked all over beejesus in the cold to get to him. Thanks, Cool Girl, thanks. We fall into comfortable conversation right away; he's always very generous with is inquiry about my life which must seem Looney Tunes to him and after a hefty dose of what my world's been like and how his work's been I ask: "So, how's your personal life?" Cool Girl wanted to torture me with details of the girl he's skipped over the Disney Stage with- wait.
I did not explain this my Instinct entry. Cool Girl thought it was a good idea back in October to ask The Unicorn about this girl he was dating who would be okay with him going to an extra-special-fancy meal with me. He said they were only seeing each other for three weeks or so (3 weeks! So CLOSE!) and I said, "Oh, so you're in the Disney Stage, huh?" He had no idea what I meant so I explained, "You know, the first three months of going out with someone is the Disney Stage- all flowers and butterflies and songs..." He kinda huffed and said quietly, "Well, I think we may have skipped over that part." I squinched up my face into the phone. I couldn't tell if this meant they have gotten serious quickly or that she...sucked. So after a beat, I made a joke,"What, are you already holding her hair back while she pukes into a toilet, or what?!" And thank God, he cracked up laughing and we went on a tangent about thaaaat...
Back to December..."personal life?" and he scratched his beard which looked about a month old and he said "Oh, well, I actually am not seeing that girl anymore. It ended kinda badly." "Hence, the beard?" He sideway'd smiled at me. *melting* Went through the whole story. Basically, she DOES suck.
So now I have emotionally raw Unicorn completely unattached at this cozy bar with me and I am drinking on an empty stomach and we start to talk about the play I came in to audition for. Now, what I love about his non-theatre-boy ass is that he asks questions about the play and what it's trying to say to the world and not whether I think I booked the gig or not. *gagging sound* After going through the play and its premise and how I feel about it and how I feel about mySELF doing the work that is required for the part, he asks with such beautiful sincerity, "So, how would you feel about having to perform that play every night? Wouldn't that affect you?" My eyes went wide. "Just preparing for this audition has affected me!" and, gagging Cool Girl and throwing her in a closet, I actually tell the truth about my weight and hypnotherapy and dating and all of it. And instead of feeling small and weak I feel relieved and strong, taller even.
Our time is way too short and I have to go actually eat something with Stand-Up Yogi and a couple of her clients on the West Side, so we grab a cab together. Walking has made me realize how drunk I am. I think he is too. But instead of acting all quiet like usual, I push through and start acting reedickulous and we're laughing and he's making really baaad sexual innuendos and I feel like I'm in 6th grade but happy. We stop outside of his place, which I have never done and before he gets out, I say "Uh-oh. Now I know where you live. Now I can stalk you sooo easily. Watch out." He giggled nervously, bent down, kissed me on the cheek and said, "Okay I'll watch my back. Have a safe trip back."
And that's it. Blueballed. Ugh.
Well, its really not it bc I think I may have drunk-texteded him something about Ducky riding by Andie's house on a bike over and over in Pretty In Pink. Bad Business.
The first order of business when I returned to LA? Telling the Little One he no longer could sleep in my bed. He had to sleep on our couch.
I think this Hypnotherapy shit is working.
It actually IS a happy 2011; many beautiful things are a-brewin' in the Year of Fruition, as my insightful roommate has dubbed it. Our hard work in LA has had a major breakthrough, I actually have had a job I applied for back in November call me, which is extraordinary. Now if I could just get Cool Girl to knock it the fuck off.
So I left you in LA, hanging as it were, with the Little One invading my space. Literally. God provided an intervention in the form of an audition for a Broadway play in New York that I had to pick up and run to. The play is Neil LaBute's FAT PIG and is about a guy who dates a very overweight girl and is madly in love with her but is so embarrassed that he is with her, that he hides her from his work friends, who are horrible, horrible people. The part was for the title character. I hate this play and generally do not enjoy Mr. LaBute's work. To be precise, his plays make me want to write answer plays like rappers did in the 80's; the song may have a good beat to it, but GOD is the message awful. And the thought of being googled for the rest of my life and having "FAT PIG" come up next to my name was not my ego's idea of a good time. But my ego WAS down with the idea of creating a role on Broadway that I could be Tony Nominated for...oooooh.
So I went.
Preparing for the audition ended up bringing me face to face with one of my awful core beliefs; that I was too fat to be truly loved; if someone loved me, it was because I did all I could to get them forget what I looked like. (Ask me if I think this has ever worked, by the way.) I am so self-hating that I actually have a phobia of chubby-chasers. Its true. I am currently undergoing hypnotherapy to deal with this issue- I'd like to lose the weight or accept myself at the weight I am or, best case scenario, both. Right now, its neither and it really can't continue if I expect to be in a healthy, non-Cool-Girl relationship with someone.
Cool Girl was created when I realized that being overweight was the kiss of death when it came to boys, at arooound kindergarden when I was chasing Danny O around the giant cement turtle in the schoolyard. I have since come to know, intellectually, that this is ridiculous but not until Cool Girl made her way into every relationship with a guy I've ever had. And my heart, my poor heart, already believed this to be true. It needs to be bitch-slapped.
I should confess that once I wrote the first sentence of the paragraph above, I was not able to get beyond it for a good nine days. You know when you write something so true about yourself, it stops you cold, the truth ringing in your ears, taking up all your head space? Well, that happened. And I've sat on it for a week and a half.
K- back to FAT PIG and all the unearthing it did to me just auDItioning for the damn thing. I gave the best, TONY award-winning performance I could at that audition, and left floating on cloud nine. Practically buzzing, I wandered along Fifth Ave., checked out the store windows tricked out for Christmas and called the Unicorn. I was going to meet him near his work on the Upper East Side, and by the time I got there I was sweaty & starving. It was a great pub named for some Irish Movie or some movie set in Ireland and had Guinness but NO FOOD. They give you small bags of chips at the bar as a condolence. I'm sure you're predicting this whole scenario- I am about to get wasted on one drink with the Unicorn. Key-Righst.
He's lovely, as usual. I wanna fall into his face. I wanna take his huge hand in mine and kiss every knuckle, I wanna tug on the thick hair on his head as I attack his mouth. This is probably TMI...but what I ACTually do is talk about how hungry I am and how I walked all over beejesus in the cold to get to him. Thanks, Cool Girl, thanks. We fall into comfortable conversation right away; he's always very generous with is inquiry about my life which must seem Looney Tunes to him and after a hefty dose of what my world's been like and how his work's been I ask: "So, how's your personal life?" Cool Girl wanted to torture me with details of the girl he's skipped over the Disney Stage with- wait.
I did not explain this my Instinct entry. Cool Girl thought it was a good idea back in October to ask The Unicorn about this girl he was dating who would be okay with him going to an extra-special-fancy meal with me. He said they were only seeing each other for three weeks or so (3 weeks! So CLOSE!) and I said, "Oh, so you're in the Disney Stage, huh?" He had no idea what I meant so I explained, "You know, the first three months of going out with someone is the Disney Stage- all flowers and butterflies and songs..." He kinda huffed and said quietly, "Well, I think we may have skipped over that part." I squinched up my face into the phone. I couldn't tell if this meant they have gotten serious quickly or that she...sucked. So after a beat, I made a joke,"What, are you already holding her hair back while she pukes into a toilet, or what?!" And thank God, he cracked up laughing and we went on a tangent about thaaaat...
Back to December..."personal life?" and he scratched his beard which looked about a month old and he said "Oh, well, I actually am not seeing that girl anymore. It ended kinda badly." "Hence, the beard?" He sideway'd smiled at me. *melting* Went through the whole story. Basically, she DOES suck.
So now I have emotionally raw Unicorn completely unattached at this cozy bar with me and I am drinking on an empty stomach and we start to talk about the play I came in to audition for. Now, what I love about his non-theatre-boy ass is that he asks questions about the play and what it's trying to say to the world and not whether I think I booked the gig or not. *gagging sound* After going through the play and its premise and how I feel about it and how I feel about mySELF doing the work that is required for the part, he asks with such beautiful sincerity, "So, how would you feel about having to perform that play every night? Wouldn't that affect you?" My eyes went wide. "Just preparing for this audition has affected me!" and, gagging Cool Girl and throwing her in a closet, I actually tell the truth about my weight and hypnotherapy and dating and all of it. And instead of feeling small and weak I feel relieved and strong, taller even.
Our time is way too short and I have to go actually eat something with Stand-Up Yogi and a couple of her clients on the West Side, so we grab a cab together. Walking has made me realize how drunk I am. I think he is too. But instead of acting all quiet like usual, I push through and start acting reedickulous and we're laughing and he's making really baaad sexual innuendos and I feel like I'm in 6th grade but happy. We stop outside of his place, which I have never done and before he gets out, I say "Uh-oh. Now I know where you live. Now I can stalk you sooo easily. Watch out." He giggled nervously, bent down, kissed me on the cheek and said, "Okay I'll watch my back. Have a safe trip back."
And that's it. Blueballed. Ugh.
Well, its really not it bc I think I may have drunk-texteded him something about Ducky riding by Andie's house on a bike over and over in Pretty In Pink. Bad Business.
The first order of business when I returned to LA? Telling the Little One he no longer could sleep in my bed. He had to sleep on our couch.
I think this Hypnotherapy shit is working.
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