Today I had tech rehearsal for the musical I’m in.
If you are a non-theatre type, tech is the time when all the finer details of a live theatre production come together. We add lights, sound, and complicated effects.
I love techs.
In my younger years, tech consisted of an entire weekend. We would start on Friday at 6pm and go until midnight. Then Saturday we would muster through a full run-through (often for the first time). Again, the same on Sunday. My house was always the destination for sleepovers during tech week. I bonded so fiercely with my castmates during that time. Fun fact- I had my first sexual encounter with a female during a tech weekend.
Such fond memories.
But tech is long. Grueling. With much starting and stopping.
It’s not about you as an actor, it’s about the techies who make the real magic happen.
And my Mr. Exec is the sound guy for this musical.
I am a party of one.
But I see so much potential.
Every time I wipe the tears of a newly single woman who has been jilted by yet another fuck-twat I become hopeful.
She’s one step closer.
One step closer to refusing to give up any more of herself to an unworthy member of the male species.
One step closer to wanting revenge.
One step closer to rebuilding herself.
It’s a new year.
I wish I could tell you that I’ve had some sort of revelation. That I am resolved to make 2015 better than 2014 was. That I am going to learn how to connect with others and let down my guard.
I must confess that was my original plan but I’ve woken up these past two days with such an awful feeling. The not okay has grown stronger. Is it because I’ve stopped feeding the monster? Because I’ve committed to commitment?
I doubt it.
More conversations with my men today. The ones I’ve loved. The ones I’ve broken
We begin with a conversation with my dear sweet boyfriend.
About how he is the perfect man for me. Because he gives up and makes a hard swing into nothing. He has no more feelings. No more cares. No more wishes. He’s able to turn off his emotions like a light switch. One moment they are there- the next they are gone.
But they are not really gone. For that would truly be a feat. He’s squashed them somewhere deep down inside of himself. Not to return as he has deemed it unsafe.
When I’m around you I want to become the absolute best version of myself.
So that I can shine bright.
You will be forced to watch as I refuse to yield any of that to you.
You push against it.
Too much of a good thing can be exhausting.
Too much of a bad thing?… Well that can be downright injurious.
I am strung out.
My state is so elevated that I am unable to be in control. I am desperately searching for a place to stash these new emotions. I refuse to swallow them.
I am rash and unpredictable now. Begging for someone to take away the inner turmoil.
Begging for thread to sew up the hole that’s been ripped in my head.
He has been desperately messaging me since rehearsal on Friday. Our normal tempo is 1x each day. Just a simple wave. Or a hearteyes emoji. Simple. Trivial. Just a “hey- I’m thinking about you” type of deal.
But he’s upped the ante.
It is 2:45 PM. He was supposed to be here by 2:30 PM.
I was glad that he chose a later time, because I had work to finish.
My boss is gone for the day and I am finally caught up. And yet, Mr. Exec is nowhere to be found. It’s unlike him to be late.
I debate over whether to send him a Skype. But I may have other available options should he not be able to make it. And I need a good fucking one way or another. My succubus meter is dangerously low.
For you it is so fucking easy.
You get to lay in bed next to your wife each night. Nefarious thoughts of me running through your mind.
I’m the dirty little secret you love to keep.
And for me it is often torture.
I dance the line between saying too much and not nearly enough.
I must keep your interest.
You are not a prize to be had.
I knew this about you before I ever began. I wanted your high. Your nothing. Your ruminations.
I wanted you to be like him… My Dark and Twisty.
Ms. Awesomely Dangerous has always been a personality I can slip into and then discard when I need to. There is me, slightly awkward lil ole me, and then there is Ms. Awesomely Dangerous.
She’s my favorite armor.
I need her to survive these affairs because they take so much out of me. I don’t want anyone to get too close to the warm squishy bits underneath.
But Mr. Exec is getting a healthy dose of the actual me. It’s become nearly impossible to utilize Ms. Awesomely Dangerous as a defense mechanism. I knew this was going to be an issue- given how I know him. But I didn’t expect it to be so incredibly taxing on my little brain.
I don’t get a break at all.