Friday, August 15, 2008

Big Fail.

I went to see a local performance of Brigadoon tonight-

What. Yes, I like musicals. Shut up.

-and it was a pretty good performance over all. One reason to go was we (my parents and the favorite aunt) knew the dude who had the lead. He’s one of those people I don’t know very well, but I maintain my connection with him because eventually I’ll get to write the blog post about how I once coached the famous Dude McFamousy in his high school Improv troupe! Back when he wasn't so very, very, terribly and muchly famous! And also la-de-frickin’-da! And McFamousy was excellent, as he always, always is, but there was another guy (playing second banana character Jeff) who was even better. A super-talented actor. Really stood out from the whole cast.

Plus he was CUTE.

I check the bio in the program and lo, he is new in town! Also he’s all sorts of experienced, coming from some Big Cities of fame and reknown! Places where everyone is cute like that!

And he dedicated his performance. To. His. Mother. How fabulous is that? (and yes, I noticed that he did NOT dedicate his performance to any wives or girlfriends. This is also fabulous.)

So me, I’m smitten. And after the performance there’s this reception in the basement, full to overflowing w/ people in sweaty make-up and plaid. (Brigadoon, people.) My Dad wants to give the big hand shake to the family connection (aka Dude McFamousy) but I’m sneakily and trixily scanning the room for Second Banana from the Big City. Because since curtain call I’ve had this fantasy running in my head.

In the fantasy I go over and introduce myself to Big City guy and tell him how I think he stole the show and also I see you’re from , which is a great town and how are you liking Hippyville? And he perks up, because I know his Big City, and tells me how it’s been great, but he does miss the comedy and improv scene from his Big City. And that’s when I mention my Improv history, which will impress him (because usually girls aren’t both funny and fabulously fetching, like me) and we’ll strike up a conversation.

A conversation where I am both radiant and also witty. Charming but fascinating. I talk about shows I love and he loves them too, because we’re SO on the same page. We both love the comedy of Mitch Hedberg and think that Mencia is overrated. We enjoy a good book, but really indulge in comic books, especially from Dark Horse. He’s a Coke drinker, but I find that forgivable because I’m magnanimous like that. Oh, there are sparks, people! Sparks and chemistry and it’s the beginning of something…


But in the REAL world, here’s me with my Mom and Dad and favorite Aunt. Because hitting the town with your older relatives is SO hot! And I’m standing across the room staring at this guy, but making absolutely no move to bridge the gap. The huge, mammoth, deep and wide and impassable gap that I cannot pass because lo! Impassable!

Plus the lame, paranoid and self conscious side of me arrives (she also likes musicals and requests that you shut up) to ask questions like "who's the girl standing next to her? Is that his date? Is that someone in the cast? Is it someone in the cast who wants to date him? Did she just touch his arm? I will KEEEELL her! Wait, did he just look at that guy's chest? Oh hell, is he gay? I can't feel my arm, because the love of my life is GAY! AGAIN! No, wait, he's just reading his shirt. Why didn't I wear a funny shirt? Do guys like girls who wear funny shirts? SHE TOUCHED HIS ARM AGAIN! KEEEELL HER!"

I’ve got a window of maybe 5 to 10 minutes maximum and I’m just standing by the pretzels, feeling the room fill up with uncomfortable, failure-flavored molasses.

And finally my Dad has had the Big Handshake w/ Dude McFamousy and I gotta leave because they’re my ride. They’re my ride! So hot! Guh. Goodbye to Big City guy, and to my life of talking theater and travel and how long we’ve waited for each other in this big, lonely world.


This, my peoples, is why I really need to never go anywhere without the Queen ever again. She would never have let me leave that room w/out at least a sweaty-palmed handshake and a "Dude, you were super!"

1 comment:

Bridget said...

So true! Consider yourself tskd, tskd!