thank you for noting my open wound and adding salt
To feel sorry oneself, or to not feel sorry for oneself, that is the question. Or, at least its one of them.
In the past week I've been elated to the point of ecstatic joy to so depressed I wanted to cry myself to sleep. I didn't, because I was too tired to take my make up off and that'd be icky.
Here's the recap: I was cast in a musical review with all sorts of great standards as the swing for the female rolls. I was promised at least 5 performances and I get paid for all rehearsals(this is going back a month or so). We started rehearsing, it was a grand time, but as we rehearsed the cast because a very close group, myself included. This is awesome. So the director went to the dinner theater's owner, who after seeing the preview had his own note that "I want the cast to be 5, not 4."
Suddenly I went from swing to in the full show, booked for the next 4 months, getting steadily paid for acting.
This is incredible and awesome and I was so very happy! What a success! The cast includes a couple (Awww...couples onstage singing to each other, how romantic) and then 3 single people. Another woman, another man, and myself.
This is important to note that they WERE single.
I'm all excited because on Valentine's Day, instead of being alone and sad, throwing candy hearts at the TV during romantic comericals, I'm going to be onstage, singing romantic songs with a partially single cast and having a grand time. I went out and got little Valentine's presents for everyone(because I love any holiday that involves pink EVERYWHERE!) the men in the cast got all the ladies flowers(awwww! I got flowers from men on Valentine's Day, this is awesome!). I'd even dressed up. My cute little black dress with roses all over and hot pink shoes, a flower in my hair, I felt pretty! Actually pretty! And I was happy! The world was mine!
The show went well, my heart was full of warm fuzzies and we decided to have a drink(handy being a dinner theater place, huh?) So we're drinking wine and things are grand. I'm single but ok with it. The other couple isn't real touchy feely and, hey, I'm not the only single person here, isn't this great?
Eventually I get up, need to use the facility.
Someone...someoneS were also using it.
In ways it was very much not intended for.
I go back to the table.
Other couple is very much in love and googly eyed.
And I'm not sober enough to drive home.
I feel like Cinderella, seeing her coach turn into a pumpkin, her hot pink heels uncomfortable and the dress that seemed so cute earlier, feel sad and constricting. I wanted nothing more than to go home. And I couldn't. Everyone eventually is back at the table, giggling and in love, or, at the very least strong lust and infatuation. In the span of 6 hours my Valentine's Day has gone from best to worst.
So I sober up(a long, long, time later, it feels) drive home, and am too sad and exhausted to even change.
But tomorrow is another day! Things will be better, after all, a lot of booze was imbibed.
You know what I've always wanted? Someone to sing to me, to sing with me. I love to sing. Even more with this show I feel alive when I sing. I feel complete, I feel happy, its as natural to me as breathing. But, I've always wished for someone to sing with me. That we could blend in harmony(I know, what a metaphore, right? But it fits so I shall use it anyway!) and it'd just be lovely and obnoxious.
A few years ago I got to sing "Come What May" in a duet recital and it was romantic and wonderful and I kept thinking "This. I want to be able to sing this with someone who loves me."
A dream I forgot or put on the back burner because, really, who does that, right? There's no one who could possibly be so romantic, sing together and...
Its the couples song. And now the other guy is singing it to formerly single girl.
And I'm sitting at the table wishing that the wine could solve my problems.
OR that I could push her out of the way and no one would notice.
But I'm still doing ok, really, they can just keep singing to each other, I'll keep examining the cheese tray in front of me(We were at the couple's house for dinner) Isn't it interesting, I love the pattern, nice cheese choices, the gouda is very good...
Then the women, the lucky, happy, women grab my hands and say "Oh, here, we'll sing to you, Caitlin, because you don't have anyone."
There. Now you've done it. You've said it out loud so its real. I could have just sat there, waiting for the romance to be done. But what's worse than ignoring the single girl at the table who feels like she must be covered in scales(Bridget Jones, that was your most brilliant comment ever.)
Its pity from the women who are happy and in love. Its pity for me. Its one thing for me to feel sorry for myself. And up to this point I wasn't actually miserable. I was almost enjoying observing this musical outpouring of love and affection. Kind of like watching a movie that you wanted to step into. But when the took my hands, holding me and singing to me, trying to make me laugh, what I wanted to do was cry.
Because right next to me they had what I'd always wanted. Right next to me it was in my grasp. It was so close I could feel it. And never allowed to touch it.
I can't even be mad at them. How could I? Its not like they're sitting there thinking "HA! Its Caitlin's dream to have romantic song Come What May sung to her! Let's sing it to each other and see if our romantic eyes and touches will cause her to jump from the window or finally go insane!" These things don't happen for the sole purpose of tormenting me.
It just seems like it.
So, again, I went home, excusing myself from the love fest, to hugs from everyone. Everyone saying "We're so glad you're here, we're so glad you're part of this, you're so sweet, so wonderful" (no, really, they said these things...I was surprised too) "We just love working with you, and being friends with you."
They walked me to my car, to "can't wait to see you next weekends" and I have no doubt their feelings are genuine. But surrounded by people I've never felt so alone.
I love the show. Every night I step onstage and get to sing love songs. But I'm singing them to no one. Every night I step onstage and pretend for an hour and a half that I'm in love. That they love me back. I'm the soundtrack to the audience in love, looking at each other across tables, holding hands and smiling knowing smiles. I'm the one at the microphone. But if you look at the stage you'll see three mikes. On either side of me, couples are sharing mikes. I may be center stage, but I'm standing there alone.
I just hate to feel so pathetic about it. But it was a perfect storm of everything I wanted, everything I guess I can't have right now for reasons, I'm sure, will be eventually clear to me. The one, older couple, the man actually said "You know, I kept asking myself why it took me so long to find you." and his fiance responded "Because I wasn't ready yet."
Maybe I'm just not ready yet.
But if everyone could hold off on their romantic musical moments until I've left the room, I would be most appreciative.
To recap: I'm so happy I'm in the show. I'm doing what I love, i'm getting paid for it, and everyone in the cast is very nice.
But so help me, if I get one more pity look I'm going to get violent.
In the past week I've been elated to the point of ecstatic joy to so depressed I wanted to cry myself to sleep. I didn't, because I was too tired to take my make up off and that'd be icky.
Here's the recap: I was cast in a musical review with all sorts of great standards as the swing for the female rolls. I was promised at least 5 performances and I get paid for all rehearsals(this is going back a month or so). We started rehearsing, it was a grand time, but as we rehearsed the cast because a very close group, myself included. This is awesome. So the director went to the dinner theater's owner, who after seeing the preview had his own note that "I want the cast to be 5, not 4."
Suddenly I went from swing to in the full show, booked for the next 4 months, getting steadily paid for acting.
This is incredible and awesome and I was so very happy! What a success! The cast includes a couple (Awww...couples onstage singing to each other, how romantic) and then 3 single people. Another woman, another man, and myself.
This is important to note that they WERE single.
I'm all excited because on Valentine's Day, instead of being alone and sad, throwing candy hearts at the TV during romantic comericals, I'm going to be onstage, singing romantic songs with a partially single cast and having a grand time. I went out and got little Valentine's presents for everyone(because I love any holiday that involves pink EVERYWHERE!) the men in the cast got all the ladies flowers(awwww! I got flowers from men on Valentine's Day, this is awesome!). I'd even dressed up. My cute little black dress with roses all over and hot pink shoes, a flower in my hair, I felt pretty! Actually pretty! And I was happy! The world was mine!
The show went well, my heart was full of warm fuzzies and we decided to have a drink(handy being a dinner theater place, huh?) So we're drinking wine and things are grand. I'm single but ok with it. The other couple isn't real touchy feely and, hey, I'm not the only single person here, isn't this great?
Eventually I get up, need to use the facility.
Someone...someoneS were also using it.
In ways it was very much not intended for.
I go back to the table.
Other couple is very much in love and googly eyed.
And I'm not sober enough to drive home.
I feel like Cinderella, seeing her coach turn into a pumpkin, her hot pink heels uncomfortable and the dress that seemed so cute earlier, feel sad and constricting. I wanted nothing more than to go home. And I couldn't. Everyone eventually is back at the table, giggling and in love, or, at the very least strong lust and infatuation. In the span of 6 hours my Valentine's Day has gone from best to worst.
So I sober up(a long, long, time later, it feels) drive home, and am too sad and exhausted to even change.
But tomorrow is another day! Things will be better, after all, a lot of booze was imbibed.
You know what I've always wanted? Someone to sing to me, to sing with me. I love to sing. Even more with this show I feel alive when I sing. I feel complete, I feel happy, its as natural to me as breathing. But, I've always wished for someone to sing with me. That we could blend in harmony(I know, what a metaphore, right? But it fits so I shall use it anyway!) and it'd just be lovely and obnoxious.
A few years ago I got to sing "Come What May" in a duet recital and it was romantic and wonderful and I kept thinking "This. I want to be able to sing this with someone who loves me."
A dream I forgot or put on the back burner because, really, who does that, right? There's no one who could possibly be so romantic, sing together and...
Its the couples song. And now the other guy is singing it to formerly single girl.
And I'm sitting at the table wishing that the wine could solve my problems.
OR that I could push her out of the way and no one would notice.
But I'm still doing ok, really, they can just keep singing to each other, I'll keep examining the cheese tray in front of me(We were at the couple's house for dinner) Isn't it interesting, I love the pattern, nice cheese choices, the gouda is very good...
Then the women, the lucky, happy, women grab my hands and say "Oh, here, we'll sing to you, Caitlin, because you don't have anyone."
There. Now you've done it. You've said it out loud so its real. I could have just sat there, waiting for the romance to be done. But what's worse than ignoring the single girl at the table who feels like she must be covered in scales(Bridget Jones, that was your most brilliant comment ever.)
Its pity from the women who are happy and in love. Its pity for me. Its one thing for me to feel sorry for myself. And up to this point I wasn't actually miserable. I was almost enjoying observing this musical outpouring of love and affection. Kind of like watching a movie that you wanted to step into. But when the took my hands, holding me and singing to me, trying to make me laugh, what I wanted to do was cry.
Because right next to me they had what I'd always wanted. Right next to me it was in my grasp. It was so close I could feel it. And never allowed to touch it.
I can't even be mad at them. How could I? Its not like they're sitting there thinking "HA! Its Caitlin's dream to have romantic song Come What May sung to her! Let's sing it to each other and see if our romantic eyes and touches will cause her to jump from the window or finally go insane!" These things don't happen for the sole purpose of tormenting me.
It just seems like it.
So, again, I went home, excusing myself from the love fest, to hugs from everyone. Everyone saying "We're so glad you're here, we're so glad you're part of this, you're so sweet, so wonderful" (no, really, they said these things...I was surprised too) "We just love working with you, and being friends with you."
They walked me to my car, to "can't wait to see you next weekends" and I have no doubt their feelings are genuine. But surrounded by people I've never felt so alone.
I love the show. Every night I step onstage and get to sing love songs. But I'm singing them to no one. Every night I step onstage and pretend for an hour and a half that I'm in love. That they love me back. I'm the soundtrack to the audience in love, looking at each other across tables, holding hands and smiling knowing smiles. I'm the one at the microphone. But if you look at the stage you'll see three mikes. On either side of me, couples are sharing mikes. I may be center stage, but I'm standing there alone.
I just hate to feel so pathetic about it. But it was a perfect storm of everything I wanted, everything I guess I can't have right now for reasons, I'm sure, will be eventually clear to me. The one, older couple, the man actually said "You know, I kept asking myself why it took me so long to find you." and his fiance responded "Because I wasn't ready yet."
Maybe I'm just not ready yet.
But if everyone could hold off on their romantic musical moments until I've left the room, I would be most appreciative.
To recap: I'm so happy I'm in the show. I'm doing what I love, i'm getting paid for it, and everyone in the cast is very nice.
But so help me, if I get one more pity look I'm going to get violent.