Tour de Farce

In general, i harbor no hard feelings toward him.  i had told him “i’m the easiest woman on the planet to dump – just don’t text or call me for a week, and i’m a ghost…”.  Can’t exactly be pissed off at him for taking me up on that offer.  An honest explanation would have been nice, though.

It was a couple years ago, and JC* was one of the first guys i dated after my divorce.  He was nice, funny and pretty laid back – we got along well for the six months or so that we were dating. He surprised me with one of the best dates ever, and we could make each other laugh.

It was quite casual.  Never invited him to the house.  He never met my children, nor did i meet his – and that seemed perfectly ok with both of us.  When i returned from a holiday in Spain, it was done.  When he didn’t reply to a text i sent, basically letting him know i was back in town?  i accepted the unspoken message, and moved on.

Not really a big deal…

About a year later, i spotted him on the bikeway – where i ride with my workout buddy, Studly McRocklegs**, on a regular basis.  He was riding with a female buddy – and i opted not to wave, or say anything.  Just a nod – same as i offer to any other on-coming cyclist.  The encounters became fairly regular on our weekday evening bike rides – and have continued during this cycling season.

Not so much as a smile, or a wave, exchanged.  We’re all out there for exercise, not socialization.  In the back of my mind, i’ve occasionally wondered if he remembers me***.  The schedule often has us headed westward as he and his buddy are headed eastward in the evenings.  With a bit of a downhill grade behind us?  We usually blow by pretty quickly, while they are chugging uphill. 

Hmmm…. Maybe he doesn’t recognize me because i’m a fucking blur?

Earlier this week, Studly and i got a late start on the bike ride.  Setting out shortly after 6:00 pm, i spotted them ahead of us early in the ride – and decided it would be a rather opportune time for a sprint!  Studly was riding at a good clip when we passed, but i pushed even harder, sprinting with everything i had – standing on the pedals to make sure my spandex-clad ass was highly visible to the riders we’d just passed!

Studly [gasping]: Where the fuck did that come from? What got into you?

daisyfae: [also sucking wind]: That was them – JC and his biking buddy. Wanted to shake my ass in the end zone a little bit!  Keep riding – let’s put up some distance.

Studly:  She looks a lot smaller…

daisyfae: Yeah, maybe she’s lost some weight.

We kept riding, getting a massive lead.  i was feeling pretty good about having had the chance to do a little celebratory butt shake.  Somewhere in my head, however, was a little doubt…

daisyfae:  Shit. What if that wasn’t them?  What if they’re still up ahead?

Studly:  I’m guessing we’ll have to do it again!

We had barely regained our breath about five minutes later, when i spotted them.  About 20 yards ahead of us.

daisyfae:  Fuck. You were right.  She hasn’t lost that much weight. That’s them…

Naturally, we caught up just as we were headed into the uphill portion of the trail.  Keeping sufficient distance through a busy street crossing, we turned on the steam and still managed to blow by at over 20 miles per hour – more than doubling their pace.  Not content to just blow their doors off, i had to keep going.  Oh, no, not stopping now!  Another half mile at full tilt, until we were safely around a corner.  They were dust.

Studly [hoarking up bits of his lungs]:  Now?  Can….. we….. please….. slow…. down?

daisyfae [head, heart and lungs nearing explosion]:  i… i…. [pant] think… [wheeeeeze] it’s….. clear….

In the end, it was simply one of our better workouts this week.  We hit the turning point, and managed a breezy passing on the way back.  Burned some calories.  Killed some gnats. 

And in the corner of my imagination where ego-fueled fantasies lie?  i dished out a serving of “There!  i’m in shape and badass!  That’s in your face for not having the balls to tell me you didn’t want to go out with me again…”

This time of year, my chest becomes a dead gnat collection system. So very sexy, isn't it? This is what you walked away from, buddy!

* No, not THAT “JC”.  From what i hear, he’s a bit of a mama’s boy, and doesn’t date much…

** After reading the draft, my bike buddy insisted i give him this particular call sign.  He does have a rather spectacular bum and legs…

*** In my more arrogant moments?  i’m pretty damn sure he remembers me…

Post-Game Analysis

Random post-game neural firings after spending eight weeks of my life engaged in an all consuming hobby…

– No regrets: Although it was a monstrous pain in the ass, and it ate my life for two months, i don’t regret it. It was funny. People laughed their asses off. It was the most “stage time” i’ve ever had in a show (we were on stage in all but two songs), and i liked my character. Pushed my limits, as well as my vocal range. Got lots of laughs – both with the scripted lines and the ad libs developed along the way.

– Ego-feeding: Although there are many reasons people get involved in community theater, for me, it’s simply “ego fodder”. Yes. i can sing. i can dance. Oh, and i’m an engineer (“oooooh!”). With a decent rack, too (“schwing”). i like the challenge, but mostly i get off on the laughter and applause. Performing. Being appreciated. Delighting an audience. Got lots of that over the past two weekends… Ego Chow delivered? Check.

– Salvation: Normally, there’s also an aspect of “team” to a show. This time? A “micro-team”. If it hadn’t been for AU, my stage-sis, and my best friend working sound in the tech booth? i’d have been cutting myself at the half-way point. Our Thursday night meanderings to the nearby biker bar for dollar beers and “dancing with pool cues” saved me. Most of the other folks in the show were fine, just kept to themselves…

– Relief: Unlike my last theatrical venture, there is no bittersweet, post-production let down. Only relief. During the show, our phenomenal stage manager would immediately re-set props after they were used on stage. During our final performance on Sunday? He returned them to the props room, or costume room, as they were used. Mid-way through Act I i noticed decreasing items on the tables – and i got excited! i gained energy through the performance, knowing that it was the LAST TIME we’d be doing a song or scene. “ Woo hoo! Never again have to hear that line of dialogue! No more slow motion choreography because She is singing at half tempo! Never again have to dance with a toilet brush and rubber gloves*”

– Divas: i’m one, too. Perhaps a lowercase “d”, but this particular hobby seems to bring out the worst of it in me. Frustrated when She was apparently not putting in effort outside of rehearsal time, frustrated when She’d drop lines, frustrated by the lack of direction**… i was prone to making bets with my partners in crime. “What are the odds she’ll spit that line out right this time?” or “Five bucks says i don’t get a note at all tonight – good or bad. He’ll just ignore my existence” (won that one). Try as i might to maintain a professional demeanor, my attitude leaked out, and didn’t exactly help the cohesion of the troupe…

– Natural Born Critics: Last Saturday night, both of my children and my daughter’s boyfriend, ZZ, attended the show. After hearing me bleat for months about the ugliness along the way, they were looking forward to seeing the resulting train wreck. In the lobby, within earshot of several cast members, The Girl said “It didn’t suck nearly as bad as I thought it would!” The Boy was even more direct: “That woman? Screeching? If I’d had two pencils I’d have shoved them point-first into my ears to stop the noise!” They mentioned highlights, too. A funny line here, or a good bit of delivery. But for The Boy? It was “Ms. GreatAss Can’t-Act For Shit” that stole his heart. “Damn, that was some world-class ass.” i mentioned that she’s kinda bitchy and he pointed out “All the better. I’d feel less guilty for the ‘fuck ‘n chuck’ routine”. Makes me proud, it does…

– Done: i think i’m cured. The compound frustrations encountered during this particular production have cured me of this pesky hobby. This is only one way for me to spend my discretionary time, and i’ve done so at the expense of other interests. Fuck that. Although i can’t say “never”, i can say “chapter closed”. It was exactly 10 years ago The Girl inspired me to audition for a production of “Gypsy”, which landed us both on stage together – her as a Torreadorable and me as Miss Mazeppa, the bugle playing stripper. Since then? i’ve been on (and off) the board of directors 3 times, have been involved with fund raising as well as many other shows and events. Although i’ve made friends for a lifetime, there are a few other encounters that have been less than pleasant. Ten years? That’s enough. Onward…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* The choreography for one song included the three of us dancing with toilet brushes. Much like a version of the song found here on youtube…. And this was pretty much my favorite dance number! i successfully fought the urge to accidently get my toilet brush tangled in The Diva’s gigantic wig during our final performance…. That would have been mean. Funny, but mean…

** Not a bad director. Just very ‘hands off’. To the point of not actually doing much “directing”. Throughout rehearsals, he only made TWO suggestions on how i delivered specific lines. The rest? Pretty much up to us. After blocking the show, he sat and watched us do it. Occasionally made suggestions, corrections or changes but for the most part just let it all happen. Other than commending The Diva when she finally got something right? Very little positive feedback either…