As promised, this week I will be sharing 5 selections from book two of the memoir series. Remember, the premise of how I tell my life story is 'what if your life were a made-for-television drama series?' Or, in my case: made for cable! It is where the books are referred to as seasons and the chapters are episodes. This installment contains passages from season two, episode 5: Ruffles Get Feathered.
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Well, well when did the dry well run? Where did I wrongly go? And how did my ruffles get feathered?
*
The answers to those questions would take a short while to come to me and while I was afraid that my so-called relationship with Tiger would come to an end, it was inevitable. We were lying to one another. He never acknowledged me as his lover, while I spoke as though we were living in wedded bliss. He was the cream in my coffee and the fact that it had very little to do with sex meant the world to me. I finally found a man I could love, but my sexual desires would creep up from time to time and there didn't seem to be anything I could do to control it.
I was vivacious back then, still kinda am, but then I steeped of sexuality and didn't care what anybody thought about it. I had a certain way of walking and a certain way of talking. I was a lot lighter in weight. I wasn't a smoker then. I seemed a lot healthier in my voluptuous physique. I would pass guys on the street and they would stop to talk to me to see "what was up?" Of course, these were men I would not usually approach, but they would come to me.
One spot I went to almost every Friday after work, while I waited for Tiger to get home from work, was Shopper's Lounge. This little bar was in the downtown theatre district and a few blocks away from work and a few blocks away from Tiger. So, it only made sense to stop through there to wait for Tiger. I became a regular at this long-standing gay bar that was quiet and relaxing by day and raunchy to the hilt by night.
You could stop through there on a hot July Friday night and smell the sex permeating from the bathroom stalls and the music would be loud as steel in what was no bigger than a shoebox setting. Yet, during a quiet afternoon on a get paid Friday, where a handful of us 'regulars' of the day would get together and drink the strongest cocktails in town. They were served up by Natasha, the coolest bartender I ever met to this day. We would sit and listen to music on the jukebox and talk about the day’s events or what was going on in our personal lives. A lot of them had friends who were dying or had died of AIDS. It was the first time I actually started to witness people grieving over such losses and it struck me hard.
I thought I was lucky when I got my first negative HIV test results, due to all the restroom romps, alley trysts and car dates. As I write this, I can think of dozens of other incidents I could tell you about when I had sex with a stranger or paid a hustler for their time. Time gets muddy, too. I know I cheated on Tiger a few times, but with whom exactly I couldn't tell you.
What I can tell you is after while, I saw less and less of Tiger.
We still had our Sundays, but they even were shorter in length.
*
I was excited with anticipation. The large capacity trash bag was filled with little trinkets, books, cards and what nots for Tiger's birthday. I was so excited. We had been together over a year and despite some shortcomings (what relationship doesn't have them), I was happy. He came to pick me up. My mother was even excited at all the little gifts I'd give Tiger and the cards. There was hardly a week that went by when we were together when I wouldn't send him a card. Hell, I had to show my affection for the man somehow. I was really trying, at that point, to not fool around. I figured I would clean my act up and devote my self entirely to him. After all, who's to say he didn't know I had stepped out on him with Allen and Lafayette - both of which were extenuating circumstances – and God knows who else.
We got back to his apartment, before going to dinner and he looked so awesome in his blue jean outfit - the jeans fitting him just right. He wore his cowboy boots, too. His sense of style drove me wild, especially at that time because we hadn't been intimate in a while. I wondered about this all the time, but I was going to be good and supportive to my man, nonetheless. That's what we're supposed to do when we are with our one and only. He was overwhelmed with my gifts. We shared some wine and then it was time to go out to dinner - his treat. See, that's the kind of man he is, treating me out on his birthday.
We stood by the doorway. I felt awkward because I wanted to kiss him, to hold him and make love right then and there. It felt like the right thing to do. He kissed me, looked into my eyes and asked what was on my mind. On my mind, I wanted to get on my knees and give him some oral pleasure right where we stood, but that's so not my style - believe it or not. Instead, I said nothing and we went out to dinner. See, and I was kicking myself for that all night long because I don't know if he would have tried to stop me or not. You're probably wondering why I would have even thought that. Well, you see that's the vibe I got from Tiger at that time, but I was blinded by my emotional attachment to him.
*
March 19, 1993
We were about to embark on our strategy for promoting The Ashley Correspondence. So, I set up a special meeting between Tiger, Arkadiy, Anatoliy and I. We met for about an hour, made sure we had our ducks in a row, had no idea how big this production would be and what standards it would set in the local theatre district - I was just a small little company with no name and most of what I learned, I learned from my dealings with Why Not Productions and they had upped and moved to New York. So, I was going about this practically blindfolded and a little gagged.
That's why the timing of Tiger's little "talk" with me was both a negative and a positive. Before we got to the meeting, he said there was something he wanted to talk to me about, but he would wait till after the meeting. Why was he being so serious?, I wondered. We went on with the meeting and I anticipated his "big news." The meeting happened and we no more than got into the car and I asked him about what he wanted to talk about. He nervously laughed, as he started driving, because I was an almost too eager beaver. It was like you really don't want to know that badly, do you kinda attitude.
I was excited about the meeting and how the production was going and he was finally ready to tell me what was on his mind. He said he hoped we would still be friends, but obviously I viewed "us" in a totally different light than he did and he just felt awful, but he thought I should know he was seeing somebody else. Brandy was a female impersonator who did shows and he was afraid some of my friends (most notably Diva Kingsley, who had seen them out), would tell me before he had a chance to. He had been seeing this Brandy a lot and thought we should move on and just be friends. He never wanted to hurt me; he knew how much he meant to me...
I thought I was going to vomit. I fell very silent and almost into an instant state of depression. He said since we would remain friends, he would still support me with and work on the play, but these new "developments" would probably change the outcome of the play's story. (Ya think?!) Wow! What a well-prepared statement, I thought. I wanted to cry, but didn't dare give him the satisfaction. I just remained completely silent the rest of the ride home. I didn't even say good night to him and as I got out of the car he just sighed.
What the hell?
Did he think I would be delighted at his "news?"
Did he think I would just go quietly into the night?
Did he think he could just cut me loose and be free of me?
Was I some kind of joke?
I would show him.
He would see.
And as far as the script changes because of new "developments" - YES!
There would be changes...you're got damn skippy there'd be changes.
Who the hell did he think he was?
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Opening the Naked Window is available for purchase at AMAZON >>>CLICK HERE<<< and other fine online retailers.
Cover Photo by: C.A. McKenzie
Cover Design by Andi Galpern of idreamofdesign.
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