CURTAIN FALLS

I really ought to tear down that earlier post about ‘C.’ Don’t get me wrong. ‘C’ is still a wonderful person and luminous actress. She’s clearly in touch with her anger, too, as evident in her reading of Chorus #1 in "Fatal Attraction—A Greek Tragedy." Last Friday, ‘C’ invited me to see her off-Broadway debut at the Bleeker St. Cultural Project. Being the theatrical savoir-faire that I am, and since admission to the reading was free, of course I agreed. Loyal readers of this site (loyal as of last Saturday, anyway) will also remember that I was nursing a hopeless crush on the sarcastic, overly-theatrical, and physically well-put-together ‘C.’ In hindsight, I must have been what Euripedes would have referred to as "out of his f*ckin’ mind." Not that ‘C’ did anything to lower my opinion of her, which is more than I can say for most of the women in my life. But simply put, I don’t think she and I are right for each other.

Calling ‘C’ a social butterfly would be like calling Tallulah Bankhead "slightly forward." No, ‘C’ is not gregarious in a slutty way. But she clearly has some male friends. Tall, sturdy-looking male friends whom she hugs. While I’m sure their tall, sturdy male physicalities are no match for my zany, razor-sharp wit, ‘C’ is a woman, after all. I find it hard to believe any female in her right mind would choose my endless repertoire of smart-ass remarks over height and well-groomed facial hair.

Still, when the house lights came up after the reading, she noticed me before she noticed her friends. Of course, then she hugged the tall dude and I immediately felt like a fifth wheel (If he’s her boyfriend, it was as of last weekend only—not that I’m jealous.) At least ‘C’ wished me luck with my classes before I left. If the writers of the play had been there, I would have asked them what aspect of the Adrian Lyne "Fatal Attraction" movie made them say, "This story is just like a Greek tragedy!" Since they weren’t, I went looking for the exits.

I gave ‘C’ a pack of Twizzlers before I left. While she and I were working for Edison Schools, she always bought candy to the office ("Because candy makes people happy," she said). One day she bought an economy-size plastic container full of Twizzlers, and went through them the way I go through hopeless crushes. They were the only thing I was absolutely sure she liked. I caught a smile when I gave them to her, but maybe it was bewilderment. My ex-roommate used to devour Twizzlers three or four-an-hour. Said he needed them to calm his raging alcoholism. Who am I to criticize? I just smoked a pair of unfiltered cigarettes while writing this entry. Man, I am such a fuckin idiot.