"How I Met You"
A friend in Portland, OR had posted a Facebook meme. ""I want you to lie about how you met me and post it here.That's right. Just make stuff up...and make it good."
I hadn't been doing burlesque for long, but one of the people who'd gotten me into the scene was doing a tour of the PNW, and convinced me to come along, have fun. I was just expecting to follow her around to shows, meet some people, have some beers.
I guess in the back of my mind, I fantasized that one of the scheduled performers wouldn't make it (would I have really brought my sequined speedos "just for rehearsal"?), but I didn't think it would actually happen. I guess it was Fate that Fanny Tastic suffered that horrible body-glitter reaction right after my third Cuervo; had it been sooner, I'd never have offered to take her place.
It was a tough crowd; other than my music, there were only my friend's obligatory hoots and whistles to be heard. I almost cracked and fled the stage. My fault, I guess, for deciding on a Klaus Nomi-themed act set to Venus in Furs for my debut number (I'd naively thought that the addition of ostrich feathers would mainstream it enough).
And then I spotted you. Alone in the sea of faces, your wry grin, the glint in your eyes, told me that you'd gotten it. Suddenly, the whole banal world didn't matter. Suddenly, I one with Klaus. And Venus.
My art vindicated, I never needed to get on stage again.
I hadn't been doing burlesque for long, but one of the people who'd gotten me into the scene was doing a tour of the PNW, and convinced me to come along, have fun. I was just expecting to follow her around to shows, meet some people, have some beers.
I guess in the back of my mind, I fantasized that one of the scheduled performers wouldn't make it (would I have really brought my sequined speedos "just for rehearsal"?), but I didn't think it would actually happen. I guess it was Fate that Fanny Tastic suffered that horrible body-glitter reaction right after my third Cuervo; had it been sooner, I'd never have offered to take her place.
It was a tough crowd; other than my music, there were only my friend's obligatory hoots and whistles to be heard. I almost cracked and fled the stage. My fault, I guess, for deciding on a Klaus Nomi-themed act set to Venus in Furs for my debut number (I'd naively thought that the addition of ostrich feathers would mainstream it enough).
And then I spotted you. Alone in the sea of faces, your wry grin, the glint in your eyes, told me that you'd gotten it. Suddenly, the whole banal world didn't matter. Suddenly, I one with Klaus. And Venus.
My art vindicated, I never needed to get on stage again.