The Former Traveling Spotlight

The tales of a "30" something gay former stand-up comic living in NYC who is searching for his soul mate or soul...which ever comes first.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Breaking Records

Performing comedy is a lot like blogging. You create a persona, a public entity that others will see. It's usually a mixture of who you really are, a mixture of who you respect, and who you've always wanted to be. Once the persona is created, you run with it.

As long as I can remember, I've actually been an extremely insecure person. Blame it on whatever reason you want (parental negligence, crazy grandmothers, child abuse) it doesn't really matter. My looks, intelligence, social status, abilities, skills, I continually questioned them all. It was only natural that the persona I created when I first started performing was a very secure, sexual man. It was easier than I first thought it would be, letting out my "inner whore" and I went with it. Full force.

Meanwhile in real life, I was painfully shy, and found if difficult to meet new people. I rarely dated while in college (partly because I was working full time) and spent the majority of my time with platonic friends. Yet, my performing persona was rumored to be having sexual fiasco after fiasco, and enjoying every minute of it. More importantly, other people loved it as well. By the time I was graduating from college, people were telling me about sexual exploits that I was having. The telephone game had started and what I was hearing was news to me. I hosted an orgy? I have a harness in my apartment? (OK...that one is true).

As an adult, I've tried to mix that persona into my life a bit. Obviously, if I've created this character, part of me wants to embody it. My close friends know the truth about my being shy, and they are less likely to fall for the smoke and mirrors of the character, but even they notice that my "inner whore" can come out once in a while. I however, dutifully deny that it ever happens.

However, sometimes I even surprise myself. Take last Saturday for instance. I was at the gay community center going for my annual Pier Dance Bartender Training with Jason. We went through the usual rigor and were given a tour of the scale model that showed us where our bars would be at. I was standing next to the Australian swimmer, who would be bartending for the swim team. I would be bartending for the wrestling league.

The swimmer, assuming I was a wrestler, asked how difficult it would be to pin me. Being that I've never wrestled (out of bed), I answered truthfully. "Yes, it would be easy to pin me." and only after the words came out of my mouth did I realize what I had ACTUALLY said. I had let out the "inner whore". Five minutes later, we were kissing. Jason likes to remind me of this now when I claim innocence. From that day forward, five minutes would be my record for a pick-up.

Until yesterday.

C train. 72nd street station to 81st street station. Less than 2 minutes.

I wonder if the Guinness Book of World Records keeps track of this?

Patrick - 11:38 AM -

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