23 June 2011

The Actor Plays On


(Disclaimer: Cheyenne Jackson is not the actor mentioned in the story. I just chose him because he's pretty.)

I have this strange curse of having accomplished Broadway actors flirt with me and not following up. Or perhaps I should say 'had'. It's been a few years since these frustrating events have occurred, partly because I've learned better and partially because I've distanced myself from such crowds because I've learned better (redundancy intended). A lot of my disappointment was based on my own naivete, but there was one particular guy who most certainly built my hopes up and let them clatter to the ground.

Three summers ago, I was working at one of the most high-profile annual LGBT fundraisers in New York. I was told to dress up, so you better believe I brought it. I was rocking a black fedora with a gray button-down shirt, dark gray pants, and a vest that glimmered. Very "Guys & Dolls" chic.

From the start of the event, I had noticed a man wandering about who looked very familiar to me. I generally knew my Broadway boys like the back of my hand, but I mainly knew this one because my friend was a huge fan of his. He was cute, too, so I couldn't help but oggle. And is it just a trick of the sunlight, or was he oggling back?

After his umpteenth round, he walked closer, smiled at me, and said "Good look."

The bubbles burst out of me. "Thanks! You're _____ _____, right?"

He looked startled that I had even heard of him, which is odd, because of course a little gay boy like me knows this stage hunk. I tried not to make a big thing of it though. "Yeah, my friend is a big fan of yours, so she's played your music for me a lot." I couldn't decide if I should say the next part or not, but it came out anyway. "I added you on Facebook, too."

This was apparently the right thing to say, because his eyes lit up even further. "Are we friends?!" He literally fluttered on to his tip toes for a moment. Wow, I am a stud.

"Yup."

"Message me tomorrow!" he said. I wasn't about to decline.

Out of nowhere, a friend of mine who was also working with me saw who I was talking to. She had heard me gushing earlier, so she wanted to play wing woman as best as she could. She swoops and an blurts, "Hey, can I take a picture of you boys?" This wasn't nearly as awkward as it seems. He agreed, and wrapped his arm around me and posed. DAMN. This guy was muscley. A one-armed hug should not be this exhilarating. But it was.

He was performing later, so he continued on his rounds. I didn't mind though. He was obviously into me. I was totally gonna get a date with this Broadway beauty.

The next morning, or maybe even later that night, I sent him a message on Facebook, as he requested (I just went back and read the message now (yes, I still have it) and it was pretty dorky, so I guess I understand his response more now). I totally thought I had it in the bag, but alas, the response came and this was all it said:

"pleasure meeting you as well. i'm sure we'll run into each other again soon. Until then. happy summer."

You've got to be kidding me. All that smiling and giddiness and unmistakable flirtation and that's all you give me? What kind of bullshit is that? I may not be a famous Broadway star (yet), but I am many other kinds of awesome. Too bad you will never know.

Point of the conversation: Some actors never get off stage.

- Lucas

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