Claiming Space

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ve started to do a lot of community theatre.

Like, a metric fuck ton.

Originally, I started doing it because I needed a distraction that didn’t involve deliciously handsome married men. I needed to put my longing for Dark and Twisty behind me.  (I should know by now, that’s impossible).

And so, I’ve been doing show after show after show. Without a break. It’s been exhausting- and exhilarating.  I enjoy having a place to call home, that is independent of my ex. This city now feels like mine too.

But of course, I’m me, and nothing remains simple for long.

Enter my executive.

He’s been involved in the theatre ever since I started.  I watched his antics on stage from the booth at my perch in front of the light board (one of my favorite places to be).  I interacted with him very little at that point. In fact, I don’t think we said a single word to each other.  Mostly because I’m a little shy, and was on a married man diet after all. Avoid em’ like the plague.

We were reunited again during another production over the fall. Ironically, I was incredibly frustrated that I was going to be forced to share the booth with him. I’d built up quite a rapport with the normal sound operator, but she’d been pulled away to play in the pit.  I barely remembered who this guy was when I anxiously asked the lighting designer who I’d be communing with.

Tech rehearsal rolled around and we were finally introduced.  There he was.  A handsome devil in business casual attire.  My heart sank. There was a lump in my throat.  He was hot. And I knew I was going to be in trouble. A well-dressed man is my kryptonite.

… And then I got to know him…

He was flipping charming.  And funny. Frack.

In any other circumstance this would have been game on for me.  Game freaking on.  But his wife and daughter were also in the show.  I mean, I’m pretty stupid- but not that stupid.  So, I kept our conversations friendly and made sure to maintain my distance.

He wasn’t having any of that.  He kept poking. And joking. And being goofy. And I broke.  I dished it back out.  I amped up my attire.  I looked forward to seeing him every night.  I wanted him to keep pushing the boundaries.

Speaking of boundaries, he put a line of tape down to separate his space from my own.  He claimed I was being unreasonable with my special demands and he had to stake out his territory.  We would spend every night battling over who would cross the line first.  Any time we touched I was sure I was going to pass out from the tension.

He would send me messages after each show.  “Great time tonight.” “You are awesome.” “Thank you.”

I took these as a green light to continue our antics.  We got so out of hand one night that one of the spot operators snapped a photo of us and shared it with the cast in a group discussion.  I was so fucking embarrassed.  I have no poker face. You could see every ounce of attraction emanating from me in that photograph.  And I dare to say you could see it returned in him.

I avoided him like the plague after she posted that photo.  I didn’t want to be called out for what I am.  Not here.  I needed this place.  I needed a home.  I avoided his wife.  Ouch. Sorry. Yuck. I don’t want your husband, I promise! Oh.. but I did… do…

We toned down our antics promptly.  Professionals that we are- of course.  We were still friendly, but it wasn’t escalating any longer. A nice reality check.

The show closed.  We parted ways- but agreed we looked forward to working together again someday. Deep down, I knew that something was going to come of this one way or another. I didn’t know when. I didn’t know how. But eventually I knew…

He. Would. Be. Mine.

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