On the subway today, a man and woman smiled as they recounted a play they saw on Broadway. They sang songs and recounted noteworthy lines while holding hands. Adorable right? Instead of sending my heart and soul a flutter, it reminded me of my curse.
It started with Gabe. I was 16 and he was my first boyfriend. We were together for four months. That's a few years in teenager terms. I couldn't tell you what we talked about or why we stayed together as "long" as we did. But, I remember it being a really nice relationship. That is until we decided to go to the theater.
At the time, I was a huge fan of Rent. Rentheads. That's what they called us. Some of us frequenting the show several times a week. At only 20 bucks a pop it was doable. It was the thing to do. So, I decided to share this with Gabe. Introduce a part of my life that may or may not have been extremely embarrassing.
Within days of seeing the show, things went downhill. I'll spare the details except to say: He faked his own death and was eventually hospitalized. Gabriel was a regular Don Juan.
What had caused the tables to turn on our otherwise perfect existence? Was it just teens being teens? Relationship running it's course?
It doesn't stop there. My fifth date with David in the winter of 2006 was destined to be like the others. Non stop conversation and laughs. A true understanding of one another. We were in sync. That is until we went to see Hairspray on 47th st. The next day, David texted me to say he was not looking for anything serious.
Isolated incidents, right? These things happen. Wrong.
Eric and I were seeing each other for a good month. We became intimate fairly fast but it seemed to make sense to us. He lived a ways away but we were making it work. That is until we scored front row seats to Wicked. Cut to two days later and I'm on the couch in my pajamas eating a pint of Ben and Jerrys' Phish Food.
Up until recently, I was seeing a great new guy named Rocky. I've grown older and more realistic with my dating. Not everyone I meet is "the one". This guy was no exception but, I happened to have a very nice time with him.
We would wander the streets of New York City until Four in the morning. Often crossing bridges into Brooklyn and getting lost on purpose. There was no shortage of mutual smiles when we met up and and no shortage of longing when we parted ways each night.
Then, I won tickets to Time Stands Still. A play about a Photojournalist's return from war and the effects it has on her family and friends. We both enjoyed the play. As all of my past victims have. We even made it a week after that night before Rocky did a 180. His communication skills suddenly faltered while his availability shrunk. I sat up long hours waiting for him to call back or show up to our plans.
Finally, I ended things. The first time the curse took a hold of me too.
So what is this? There is no way to speculate why guys are suddenly turned off to me after witnessing a live performance. Do I exude some sort of pheromone that I ordinarily do not while watching these? Maybe it is the theater itself. The so called "gay" stereotype that sits behind it...
These people on the subway seem to be able to function in a relationship and see plays. So why is there a negative stigma on me?
Coincidence...or curse?
