ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Knight in Shining Stupid, Entry Two, Part Two I sat on the smoking patio of this building, looking down at a San Diego that has already rolled up its streets at ten pm on the dot. Sad. I thought about my life, my days, the repetition and the new problems with old faces. I smoked a cigarette and listened to The Postal Service and thought about his name on her coffee cup. It doesn't bother me, and that bothers me. I thought about a girl asking me today: "Just to check, are we just friends?" and me firing off "Yes" without hesitation or emotion. It doesn't bother me, and that bothers me. I thought about a friend with a lost look in his eyes and nervous hands on steel keys, looking for something, anything to focus on rather than himself. It doesn't bother me, and that bothers me. This day has been long, nauseating, nerve-wracking, distressing, and altogether... typical. But, I digress.Now, continuing with a True Story:So now it's 1998, my third consecutive year to work as a puppeteer at the Texas Renfair. Kim and I are spending all of our time together. As afore-mentioned, the site of the Fair is in the ass-end of nowhere, but with minimal driving we castmembers can find ourselves at one of three restaurants after the gates have closed and we've changed out of our costumes. Kim and I, who shared a platonic tent, would often go to dinner together, usually with Dave W and his platonic friend, Melissa, in tow. Or the other way around. We went where they went, in an effort for Kim to be close to him; to have time and space to work her magic. I also desired to be near him. As I said, he was a comic genius; I wanted to learn as much as I could from his example, and bask in his presence.Now well into the run, we wrap things up one night and confer about our dinner plans. We all decide to ride in Kim's car, a newer model Ford Somethingorother, and we're off to a restaurant whose name eludes me at this time. Kim listened to Eve 6 religiously. Over the course of our friendship, I also found myself enamored with the group and the nostalgia they brought with them. I remember soaking up Kim like I would a word that I made a point of learning to spell, like "Silhouette". Because it is poetic and has meaning, and I knew that I would want to use it as often as possible. The allure of a new word, as does a fascinating person, always wears off.Towards the end of the run, I had blown out almost all the candles set in front of me. Sara, Kendra, Vicky, and now I was eyeing Kim and holding my breath. I knew that I would have to stop working at the Renfair, and that year, in particular, would most likely be my last. I needed to work a real job on the weekends, stop spending the gas and food money, and stop falling in and out of lust with the revolving barrage of females available at the Fair like a circus tilt-a-whirl. Yep, it was getting to be time to hang it up.So, back to Kim's car. Kim is driving, I'm in the passenger seat; Melissa and Dave are in the back, she behind me and Dave caddy-cornered. We're tired and used-up from the twelve hours of improv, waiting for our second (or third) wind to kick in. It's Saturday, and many of us will be driving back to our homes at the end of dinner, or staying in the tents and getting up early to head back to our real lives. We make stunted conversation and then choose to enjoy the silence. Finally, Melissa can no longer take it and says "I'm bored." With that as the only warning, she takes Dave W's right hand and drops it on my crotch.There is a certain brand of thrill-seeker in the world that only actors can parallel. Extreme sports enthusiasts? No. Military personnel? No. If you want to find the bravest and/or stupidest, most bull-headed, won't-back-down-from-anything motherfuckers in the world, then you're looking for an actor. Especially a comedy actor. A comedy actor will run ANY scene, no matter how hairy, uncomfortable, or intense it gets, to its fruition.The politic around RenFair was that we were a "Family attraction". Parents could come in dressed as their favorite generation of Star Trek crewmembers, bring the kids along, and get fucked-up beyond all recognition on beer and ale served in glasses that were literally a yard (That's thirty-six inches, kids!) long. Nevermind the fact that there are Rakes; men whose job it is to hit on all the women that come through the gate. Nevermind that there were Harlots at every turn. It didn't even matter that the Society for Creative Anachronism paraded sweaty-fatasses around in chain-mail and Doc Martens from open to close. It was our job to keep the humor "suggestive but tasteful". You can only imagine what this does to us when the twelve hours are over.So, Dave W has his hand on my crotch. I will not, under any circumstances, freak out or smack it away or turn red. Kim and Melissa are getting a major kick out of this, as most women do. The thought of two men engaging in or at least tolerating homoerotic behavior gets straight women wild. God knows why. I think if a straight woman actually did watch two men, real men, get it on, their bubble-gum fantasy would pop in their face. But that's neither here nor there. They're loving the fact that Dave W won't move his hand from its awkward resting place, and the fact that I won't ask him or make him move it. They protest that it's still boring. Dave W starts to move his hand around, groping for pole position, if you will. I am a twenty-year-old boy sitting in a car next to a buxom and intriguing kickboxer from Austin, and there is a man's hand stroking my penis through my denim jeans. I think you know what happens next. Yes, the ick factor: I get an erection. Dave W recognizes this (I'm not porn-star impressive, but it was kind of hard not to notice this) and continues. I am now about seventeen shades of uncomfortable and ever so extremely freaked out. But do I pull away or "give-in". Hell no.We get to the restaurant (before anything truly icky), a few words about "the event" are shared and laughed about and we eat. A good time is had by all. Then we all climb in the car, everything in its right place, and start to head back. We've gone maybe a quarter of a mile when I hear Melissa say "I'm bored again." She takes my left hand and drops it in Dave W's lap. He is already hard.The car speeds down the road, Eve 6 effortlessly mingles homonyms, colloquialisms, and alliteration together into fine-spun pop gold, and my hand lays in Dave W's crotch like a dead fish, palm up, unmoving. The palpable tension in the air is lemon and thick. Track n goes to track n+1, then n+2, and then someone has to speak. It's Dave W that breaks the silence."Come on, Eric. I at least moved it around a little bit."At this point, I still haven't caught on that he and Melissa have most likely been planning this stunt all day, maybe even days. I still think that we are just two really funny, really witty, and really outlandish guys that will do anything for a laugh. Without speaking, and without any conviction at all, I begin to move my index finger back and forth in a sliding gesture as if I were rubbing a lamp that I knew contained the demons of Pandora's Box, but had to appear to "go through the motions" so that Pandora would later show me her box and other unmentionables. We get back to the camp, laugh, smoke cigarettes, do a little "Har, har, hey, how about that shit, huh?" and then go our separate ways. I go home and work the week through and I'm back at Renfair Friday night.All through the next weekend, "the event" has become the elephant in the living room. Everyone in our circle of four knows that it's there, but no one will speak of it. At the close of that Saturday, Dave W finally corners me in the parking lot after we've picked up our checks."Hey, so how about lask weekend, huh? Wasn't that wild?"It certainly was."I've never done anything like that before."Me, neither."Well, from where I was sitting, you seemed to enjoy it."Nervous laughter is now not as funny as it is on "Friends". Well, you know what they say: When you're twenty... Young, dumb, and full of cum, eh? I mean, sometimes it gets hard when the wind changes direction. I'm now sufficiently making myself uncomfortable with my false humor."Yeah. Well, what did you think about... it... all? I mean, did you... like it?"Well, I... uh... 'Like' is such an awkward word, I mean-"Because... I... did. And I'd like to do it again." A dramatic pause to make William Shakespeare's skin crawl in awkward apprehension. "With you."I'm sorry?"I really liked it. And I really like you. I've never really had these kind of feelings before. Well, you know, I mean, I guess I've had them; I just never knew what to do with them, you know? I... I feel really comfortable with you, Eric. I feel really comfortable opening up myself. I feel really comfortable with myself when I'm with you."Wow... that's..."So... what was it for you?"Look, Dave W, I'll level with you. I'm an actor. I'm an accomodating guy. I won't back down from anything. I'm just not wired that way. And I'm also not wired... that way, if you know what I mean."Well, neither am I, but I'm saying that I think it's an avenue that I've been neglecting. All my life I just took for granted that I was straight, never questioned it. Well, I think that maybe I should have, you know? Realized that there's always more than one way to be? That's what choice is, isn't it? And what's life without choice? Why do we have free will if there are certain things that we're given no choice on?"You know, free will can be a very funny--"Look, for whatever it's worth, Eric, I think that I'm gay. I've never put myself out there like this. You're the first person that I've ever... come to about it."This is where the curse of being the Knight in Shining Stupid reared its head. I was the first person that Dave W had approached as a gay man? Whatever response I had, whatever way I changed my perception of him would be the first impression that he would get of others dealing with this new him. If I freak out and say "Ahh, get the hell away from me. I don't ever want to see you again!!!" then he will never come out to anyone again and live in denial and die a very sad, regretful, and unfulfilled man. So, I can't freak out. But I'm not going to sleep with him, either.Dave, I commend you for your bravery and your ability to recognize this in yourself and be true to yourself. And I'm honored that you've come to me about it. But, I'm not gay. And I have thought about it. I didn't take it for granted, either. I did some soul-searching and came to the conclusion that I am straight. And not because that's the way that anyone's 'supposed to be', but because it's the way that I am."Oh. Well, now, this is a little awkward."It doesn't have to be. I still like hanging out with you and you're a funny guy and... stuff."Could you do me a favor and not--"Who am I going to tell, Dave? Kim is going to be crushed. It's our little secret, right?"Thank you. So, you promise you're not freaked out or anything?"I'll admit I'm a little taken aback, but no, not freaked out. In fact, I'd still love to catch your band gig in Houston at some point. We only live like forty miles away or something like that, and I regularly go into Houston to hang out. I'd like to get your number so that I can call you over the summer and we can get together."I'd like that..."We talked. Things were smoothed. Egos assuaged and massaged. He gave me a ride home that night and crashed on my couch before leaving to go back to Houston that next morning. The next weekend was the last weekend. Kim, after watching the man that she had lusted after become "unavailable" by lusting after me, did the logical thing and climbed the heirarchal ladder. That's to say, she took a fancy to me. We had a torrid one-week affair and met one more time during the summer before I blew out her candle as well and fell into a depressive funk of loneliness, fourteen-hour-work-days, and a lot of alcohol. As the rest of 1998 developed and bled into 1999, I had a streak of something like seven or eight women and two men profess their love for me when all I wanted to be was drunk and alone. When I pulled out of my funk, they had all vanished like tumbleweeds blown away by the winds of time. But, that's neither here nor there.I never did call Dave W. I meant to, but I'm not good at calling people; never have been. I regret that. I wish that I had. I'd love to know how he's doing now. How his band is going. If he accepted a lifestyle change or just jumped back in the closet and cried "False Alarm". I'll never know. Last thing that I heard through the grapevine was that he no longer works at RenFair. I can't help but feel partly responsible.I don't know if there's a lesson from this or if I just think it's too fucking funny to keep for myself, but it's true and now it's here. For what it's worth, I apologize to Dave W and to Kim for being such a self-centered, confused, and wishy-washy bastard, but I've done a bit of growing since then. Or maybe just numbing. Looking back on the situation, I was bothered by my actions and inactions at the time, and I still am. At least I haven't lost my past regrets; perhaps just the ability to recognize or even create new ones. Oh well, that's for a trained professional to decide. Or the fine art of forgetting...11:05 p.m. - 2004-11-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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