Thursday, January 16, 2014

This Charming Man (The Smiths)

I love the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. When I watch it I turn into a woman. It is a transformation that I dread. Actually beyond dread. It is a part of me that is hard to share with the world, sentimental woman. As an ardent feminist, a word that scares any man, I think the idea of getting married oppresses women. It makes them throw in the towel on their hopes and dreams. It forces their enslavement to a man. Yet I am a junkie for happily ever after. God I hate that.

This past summer I did a show at a Greek Church. I got the gig through a long time supporter and fan of mine. Truth, Greeks are really into being Greek. This was the Greek Festival. I am not Greek or even Eastern European in the least. My family is from Germany, Austria, and Ireland. I might have some Dutch, French and other things in me. I dunno. Anyway, the festival turned out to be a lot of fun. The kids were great. I ended up feeling at home because even though they were Orthodox, I grew up in the Catholic Church which is like their cousin. Not to mention my first priest was Croatian and very old school. This church reminded me a lot of the one I grew up in. I ended up doing a great show and ended up eating some delicious food. Oh and someone recognized me from TV.

Anyway, in the Greek Church priests can marry. This is where they split with their Roman counterparts. The priest had a cute son who was in charge of the youth group. I mean dark hair, dark eyes, dreamy kind of. I remember thinking as he told me that they wanted me back I thought, "I will come back. That is, if I can hang out with you afterwards." But then I found out he had a girlfriend. Maybe they broke up. Still, drats. But apparently I wasn't the only one after him. There were actually a lot of nice dudes there that day. Made me want a husband....almost.

Yesterday I did a show at Morgan Stanley Children's. The show ended up being a lot of fun. We only had a handfull of patients attend because some aren't cleared to leave their rooms. These kids are sick, cancer and the whole nine yards. It's actually quite sad. However, the ones who were in attendance were boys. One thing about little boys is they don't do lame fairy stories. They do adventure stories. So thank goodness I had a sled riding adventure story. Thank God it had a monster. There is something about young guys. They like that stuff. That is why sometimes I actually like performing for little boys more. They like action, they like adventure, they like to slay the dragon. Even young, they don't want to talk about feelings. They want you to get to the point. That involves more imagination.

I didn't want to make the story too scary. I didn't know how young these kids would be. Still, next time there might be an alien or something. I don't know. More at stake. I wanted to write the story so there would be no references to death or dying, because some of these kids might not survive. It's the brutal, sad truth. Actually, in a way I feel guilty for kvetching as much as I do in blog land. I also was told I couldn't reference food. So an adventure story was the way to go.

My career lately has been about a lot of maybe. I just sent some paperwork for a project that is now a super maybe. It's exciting because I worked for this super maybe. Either way, I have a lot of male fans. I am bringing them up because their letters are usually funny. Something about dudes, they always find the humor in everything. Anyway, two wrote me to ask me for autographed pictures. This past weekend I sent them out. I feel like if they saw me in my sweats running errands like I usually am they would pass on ever asking me for my picture. It would be like I was thirteen again. "Will you go out with me.....Just kidding." I did look good yesterday. I will say that.

Lately I have been thinking about dating and the whole nine yards. It has been years since there has been a Mr. April Brucker. Although I would like to pretend it doesn't, the specter of my former fiance still haunts me. I know he was sick and damaged and I still give his presence way too much room in my life, but once you see a red light it is hard to close your eyes when it turns yellow. Translated, I don't trust potential partners too much. I know how fast they can turn to blood enemies. I know in my heart men will think the career is cute until they see the fan mail I get or until it takes me away from them. That is when it is back to the kitchen to cook and make babies.

And then there is the Mr. April Brucker I had a few years ago who's current wife or girlfriend or whatever she calls herself feels the need to harass me from time to time. She has been quiet lately, probably gaining weight or popping pills as usual. Still, it makes dating interesting. Sure you aren't harassing me but will your current girlfriend stop please? It's like she wants to sleep with me, seriously. Maybe she does. It's the closest she will ever get to my career. While the phone calls are a little much maybe she could send me flowers next time.

And Holden, I had to let him go. I loved him more than anyone. Maybe we could have made a home. Two alley cats who spoke the same language and knew what it was like to drink out of the rotten milk bowl. Sometimes I still wish he would come back to Manhattan so we could play house. Everyone tells me I did the right thing. He didn't want to get sober or take his psych meds. But it didn't feel like the right thing. Sigh....

Last night I found myself confessing to a long time friend that I was dreaming of a married former flame. He was a Jewish fellow who was kind of cheesy. I will admit sometimes Jewish dudes make me weak in the knees. It is because they always know how to make me laugh. Anyway, I had a dream about him two nights ago and we were dating again. It was crazy. The last few times I saw him he was acting oddly. Although it didn't work out and he married someone else, I think he still cares for me. He made that clear the last time we saw each other. Other people have even told me as much. Still, he is married to someone else. Granted his wife is kind of spoiled but he picked her. Not my problem. Maybe I am just lonely.

I also found myself dreaming of someone I connected with a few months ago. He was a music producer I met at a party who was clearly hot for me. Unlike the rest of the men interested in me, he was quiet and shy kind of. I knew it took every nerve he had to say hi to me. He actually tried to ask me out kinda but was totally retarded about it. Anyway my friend suggested I contact his studio saying I have a project and blah blah blah just to talk to him. First off he will know that is a lie and I will feel stupid doing it. Second, it will be a complete bust. Third, from the looks of his photos online he is sleeping with something that wears less clothing than Pamela Anderson. Or maybe that is a cop out. Either way she calls herself an "artist." Maybe she is. I hope they are happy. I would never humiliate myself to get close to someone not man enough to talk to me.

Apparently I frighten men. I don't get it. If I scare you at my petite size you deserve to be scared. You deserve to have your man card pulled. End of story. Still, it is weird when my mom tries to fix me up in an elevator or gives my phone number to strangers. She tried to a few weeks ago. It was awkward. I wanted to shoot myself. Especially since afterward she said I didnt even try. Well mom, you were making it awkward.

There is a part of me that is comfortable being alone. I have my ways and don't want anyone to interfere with their outside influence. Especially a man. Yes, creature who wants me to slave in the kitchen and then perform magic tricks in the bedroom who will eventually cheat anyway. Creature who I have gotten along just fine without. Creature who will put a spoke in the bicycle I ride called ambition. Creatures who make me justify every achievement I have in comedy and writing. Creatures who make me apologize for speaking out on behalf of women. Creatures who label me a man hater for my points of view. Creatures who attempt without success to make me feel guilty for being strong. A boyfriend would just get in the way.

Then there is a part of me that wants someone. Someone to tell me it is going to be okay. Someone to laugh with. Someone to be cheesy with, holding hands on the street. Someone to fight with. A handsome prince who loves puppets. Granted, he will probably disappoint me but not as long as he lives in my mind. Did I mention I am a woman? Did I mention that it sucks when that part of me comes out?

Still I have been on my own so long I wouldn't know what to do with a dude. I wouldn't know how to make one happy. Adventure stories with puppets work for young ones but not old ones. What would I wear? Where would be go? Either way, I think I will stick to being incredibly insecure and awkward, carrying my puppet children and books in a case. They need their mother, my creations. They don't need a father. So far this single parent home has worked perfectly.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

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