Loafers Weight Factor

It’s a pretty common knowledge that many guys…and even some women…in theater are gay.

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While less than 5% of the population is gay*, I’ve found that the percentage doing theater soars dramatically (ha!  get it?) above that.

Now before we go further and you think this is a diatribe against homosexuality, it’s not.  I like people for who they are, not for who they’re lusting after.  This is just an observational discourse.  No more.  No less.  So – –

Being definitely and demonstrably (well, as often as possible) straight, I’m sometimes an anomaly in the plays I do.  This is sort of good, because there are lots of straight women in theater.  However, they’re usually bizarre, needy, or just plain flipped out due to their artistic nature.  Or, more commonly, they are not the least interested in my advances because they are entranced with the pretty, gay boys (many of whom do tend to take care of themselves and look quite studly).  They hope to snare one and ‘change his ways’, only to be crushed with the futility of the task.

I fondly recall one show a few years back where the director, set designer, and two of the four male cast were outwardly gay.  The other actor who was straight approached me early on in rehearsal, grasped my hand in a firm, manly handshake, and with great feeling said, “Thank God there’s another straight man in this show!”

My latest show?  Of the 12 men in the cast – –

– 5 were clearly straight (although 1 did play a disturbingly convincing flaming gay man in the play)

– 4 were declared gay (though not flamingly so)

– 3 were ‘undeclared’…that is to say, 1 said he was straight, but acted gay.  Then, 1 said he was straight, but everyone knows he’s gay and still in the closet.  And the final 1 no one is really sure as he never declared nor did he pursue anyone, male or female.

That’s 33% – 50% of the male cast gay.  A tad higher than the ‘scientific’ 5%, yes?

Add in the production staff (director, sound, costumes, stage)?  That’s 5 more men, all of whom are gay, declared and flamingly so.  Over 60% of this group gay, compared with that 5%.

And, again, most of these people are wonderful, friendly guys who are fun to hang out with.  Yes, a few of them are assholes.  But how many straight assholes (that’s ‘straight’ as in sexual orientation, not directionally speaking) do you know?  Likely a higher percentage of twits and assholes there.

Oh, and the women in this cast and crew?  Mostly straight, a couple gay, a couple bi-, and one very, very ambiguous.  Pretty typical to the shows I’ve been in.

This is written, again, as an observational discourse of my theater experience.  It’s also necessary as a backdrop to upcoming posts.

Stand by for (gay) news!

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*who knows what the real numbers are.  I got this from a compilation of quasi-scientific studies

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Da Play

My show was a bigger success than I hoped.  We put on “The Producers”, a Mel Brooks musical about a down-and-out Broadway producer who, at a suggestion from an accountant (and later co-producer), concoct a scheme to put on a bomb of a play with 1000% investments, planning to pocket the investments when the bomb closes.  Only the bomb doesn’t close — it’s a hit.  Hijinks and laughter galore.

I got to play Franz Liebkind, the deranged German playwright of a musical (and potential bomb), “Springtime for Hitler”.  And for those of you thinking I was typecast?  Well, all I have to say to that is that I’m only one quarter German.  Nyaah!

Scene from the movie "The Producers" with Franz

Because of the one or two (not!), minor (not! not!) life issues I’ve had over the last few years, I haven’t felt I could get back onstage.  To get such a role (not leading, but very strong supporting) my first time back on stage was…exhilarating!

I had three songs that were ‘mine’ (meaning folks joined in on a couple, but they were primarily my songs to sing).  Two of them had dance steps.  Thankfully, I knew the choreographer who went easy on me with the steps for one of them and let me choreograph my own steps for the other (providing some key guidance along the way).

The rest of the cast?  Mostly wonderful (which, in community theater is not always a given).   And the ‘not wonderful’ parts were mostly backstage.

The house?  We filled the 120-seat house (less a seat or five) eight out of the nine shows we did.  This included two of the Sundays (which are typically poorly attended in community theater, especially in the summer months). We also got a standing ovation every show (also not always a given in community theater).

One of the best audience comments we got came during the final dress rehearsal.  The theater group usually invites a small group as a test audience.  In this case, it was a group of Red Hat Ladies.  After the show, one of the ladies allowed:

“I laughed so hard, I peed my pants.”

I had a ton of fun and was glad to be back on stage.

And best of all?  I didn’t suck!

Will save other stories, including some backstage drama, for another post…

…or four…

…teen.

The Social Filter

We all have this part of our brain that helps us in dealing with other people.  The part of our brain that censors what we really want to say and turns it into an “Oh, how nice”.  Or a, “My, that’s interesting”.  Or, sometimes best, a dignified silence.

When my brother had brain surgery, he had that part of his brain removed.  This included his social filter.  Instead of being quiet or using a suggestive phrase like, “My, what an interesting hairstyle”, he’d come right out with a “Who took a hacksaw to your hair?  That looks awful!”

I became a bit concerned that my social filter was failing me recently.  It was in the shower at the gym.

Okay, first off, there are some unwritten rules of bathrooms and gym showers.  For example, no staring at the other guys junk, even if it is shaped funny or notably big/small.  And no initiating conversation in either place unless you’re REALLY good friends with the guy.*

So after a workout (forgive the exaggeration), I wander into the shower where there are two guys already finishing up.  After they leave, I’m alone for a bit.**  Soon, one other guy comes into the shower.  A stranger.

As he walks by, I can’t help but notice his right shoulder… there seems to be some scratches… 4 of them… about 4 inches long… the distance between the scratches about that of a slightly opened hand…

That looks like someone – – a female? – – had a passionate moment that was expressed exuberantly with fingernails.

Hmmm…

My mind wants to ask.  My mind demands to ask.  My social filter falters for a second and I draw in a breath to ask.

But I don’t.  I look away and tend to cleaning the sweat off of my brow.

Still, I can’t help but look again as he’s turned the opposite direction.  And there on his flank?  Another set of scratches… about 3 inches long… 4 of them… the distance between each about that of a slightly opened hand…

My mind again demands I ask.  Pleads that I ask.  My social filter does another hiccup and I draw in breath to ask.

…and again let my question sit unasked.

Hell, all I was going to do if he confirmed was give him props!  Wasn’t going to ask if he had to get a tetanus shot… or ask for her phone number***…

But that’s still uncool.

I finished my shower.  I left.  I’ll never know.

And that is cool.

it just looks like me... but it's not... or is it?

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*One guy in my office I’ve known for some 10 years used to be a pilot long ago.  If I’m standing at a urinal when he comes into the bathroom, he always hollers, “Log that stick time!”  Yeah, I’ve known him for 10 years, but this still qualifies as inane conversation and is weird.

**No, in case you’re wondering, that doesn’t give me license to do anything either.  Nor did I, for those who went ahead and asked the question anyway.

***Actually, that doesn’t turn me on.  A well timed clench?  Yeah, baby.  Very hot and exciting.  Actually drawing blood and leaving long scratches?  Not so much… my inherent kinkiness goes in other directions.  Besides, I’m not one to Bogart another guy’s female companion… without permission, anyway.

The Prodigal Blogster

Hi, Honey, I’m home….

Did you miss me?

Anyone?

Hello?

Damn…

…nothin’ but a big empty…

Haloo...loo...loo....loo.....loo......

Between writer’s block and being in the play and just plain having fun with life, I’ve obviously been gone awhile.  Both from here and from visiting my blog friends.

But, back to it.  It’s time.  I feel the need.