Tonight, tonight

Tonight I’m not at Split Britches show in downtown Boston, the one that’s part of the Theater Offensive “Out on the Edge” annual festival. It’s been years since I’ve gone – I think the last time was when my ex and I were dating. Every year, I get the flyer, every year I mark down the shows I want to see, and every damn year something comes up. Tonight what came up was: my Beau has been out of town two weeks in a row and did 5 hours of yard work this afternoon and then just wanted to settle in front of the fire after doing bills and having supper, and I had a million phone calls to make because somehow I’m room parent for both boys’ classrooms, and I had to enter my words for National Novel Writing Month, and make a call to the writer’s union about this contract I don’t think I’m going to sign but I’d like advice about and somewhere in there my eldest showed up and stomped around looking for his backpack (the boys are with my ex this weekend), and I’m pretty much whammied because I had to hire a lawyer to deal with divorce issues so relaxing in front of the fire tonight sounded good to me, too, and then we had supper and then we both had to clean the bathrooms (my Beau is in there right now, in her boxers, scrubbing soap scum), and all in all, as much as it pained me, we didn’t get downtown at all.

So I started drinking wine, a little more than usual, trying to fill a little ache. Because I wanted to go. I wanted to go really badly, I wanted to be out amongst queers, I wanted to see Split Britches really a lot, I really, really did. But by the time I realized I wanted – no, needed to go – it was too late, and the evening had already fled. Sometimes I drive myself crazy by being so stoic. I go along forever saying, “No, I’m fine, really, no problem,” when actually I’m slowly being worn down, layer after layer, slowly becoming absolutely and completely invisible. Ok, that’s not entirely true – there are other queers in my neighborhood and I’m totally out to everybody I know, but, do you know how there are times when that’s not enough? When you actually want to be surrounded – I’m talking everybody there is queer – and feted and involved and included in something wonderful like a play where the characters are actually referencing, even living through, things that look like your own life. No explanations necessary. Kiss me, Daddy, right here in the open under the benevolent eye of other queers; cleanse me of the damning murmur, attitude or actual words, that I so often hear when I come out: Oh, that’s OK! Yes. Yes it is, and I’m not there tonight where it really, truly is.

As soon as I figured out that I was running on empty and told my Beau about it, she realized she was feeling that way, too. We made a pact to go to the queer bookstore downtown sometime really soon. Then I had an even better idea, and we are now having dinner with two of our favorite queer neighborhood families next Saturday – my Beau just picked up the phone and made it happen – and I can’t tell you how relieved I’m feeling already. I love Abe Rybeck and everything about the Theater Offensive and I’m so glad it exists and I’m so sad I didn’t make it again this year. Thank goodness for this suburban girl, though, that there are queer families nearby and that we are making the effort to hang out with each other, despite the fact that we are all busy rearing children, working, and doing all the other millions of things that we do. I can’t wait to see those folks next week, our kids running around, all of us gabbing and laughing together.

Me and my Beau are bringing the wine.

Published in: on November 3, 2008 at 1:22 AM  Leave a Comment  

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