I met Delores on April Fools’ Day, 2010. I had been listening to the local classical music station and the phrase, “Even though it’s April Fools’ Day, donation to your local classical music station is no joke.” I thought it was cute. The DJ’s voice was calm, honest. Just what I needed on the day my new play opened. I was anxious, nervous, and too jacked-up on coffee for my own good. Never should one engage in caffeine on a performance day (unless it’s in the character), but then that’s not acting, is it?
I was playing an all-nude role, one where I would fly out of bed on ‘lights up’ and then engage in a 25-minute conversation with my gay lover, who also happened to be nude in bed. That night, opening night, I met Delores. She was tall, had long legs, and smelled like roses. The moment she approached me after the show and expressed her love for my role and performance, I immediately thought, “Oh, shit! I wonder how big my dick was tonight? Was it short and shriveled? Or was it long and hearty?” I’ve noticed that in nude roles my penis is practically acting in its own play.
When I am ill, my manhood reacts by becoming long and slender. When I’m nervous, he’s short and chubby. When afraid, it…well, I’ve been too busy dealing with fear to take a look. When running from a cougar you don’t exactly think, “I wonder what my junk looks like right now?”
As I dove deeper and deeper into the insecurities bestowed upon me by the media and my upbringing, I realized I was missing some very important information. Delores had been inviting me to an event, a shindig, if you will, that she was hosting later that evening. One of those late night get-togethers involving nameless invitations and masquerade masks. She said, “You, sir, would be a perfect addition to my party.” I watched her eyes travel over me, seeking something she might have missed during the performance, and I gulped.
I don’t react well physically during “performance” situations, if you couldn’t tell by this point. It’s the pressure. The excitement. The adrenaline. The expectation that I’m great, will do great, and will wow, woo, and impress, regardless of the action, always stresses me out, though in this case I am primarily referring to sexual intercourse.
After finishing getting dressed, officially and fully out of costume, I joined Delores out in front where she was waiting in a grass-green, two door Jaguar; a perfect color to compliment her cherry lipstick. I think I gulped once more. As I sat down and sank into the leather seat, the thought crossed my mind, “I wonder just how many guys have sat in this very seat, lured by this woman, led to a similar shindig as I’m headed to tonight?”
The curiosity began to kill my excitement and stir up all the emotions accompanied by the expectation to potentially have to perform, sexually, on this woman. A trickle of sweat escaped a pore from my hairline and found its way to my mouth. I could taste that night’s theatrical performance, the pheromones from Ben, my co-actor, were found in the droplet along with the four additional F-bombs I dropped in my ending monologue due to intense emotion taking over, and my inability to counter it with decent acting skills. I received an email the following day reaffirming that realization. The standing ovation, the two girls weeping in the second row, all of it flashed in my mind.
The night’s performance played through scene by scene, and if it weren’t for Delores and the sudden placement of her hand on the inside of my upper thigh, I would have eventually met her again. Blood rushed to my penis, throwing it into the category of “chub.” “How exciting,” I thought. “Could this be my first successful one night stand ever?” I had not, to date, had a one night stand go over well, but tonight could be that night. Tonight I could make up to all mankind for my ridiculous attempts (two to be exact) at engaging with a woman whose name I barely knew and for whom, due to a complete lack of chemical and/or spiritual connection, I could not, for the life of me, get an erection.
In both cases my mind had been ready, but my soul and body had their security systems running full force. They had saved me from a potential disease; at least that’s what I tell myself so I feel better. Somewhere between all those thoughts and a few small caresses the car had started. The engine vibrated the seat beneath my butt, adding a slight tickle factor into the caressing equation, which reinforced the chub. And I knew what an increased chub meant. It meant increased anxiety and pressure surrounding that potential performance soon to, ahem, come, and that increased my perspiring.
As Delores drove down 7th street my phone began to vibrate, reminding me that an escape plan still existed. I contemplated the blueprints; “if need be, who could I say died? Who could I need to go pickup because their car broke down?” I checked my phone – just a text message. Donovan. Let’s go grab a drink and catch up. How great did that sound? Although I knew that had I not been here, had I been in a different, unwanted, uncomfortable situation, I still would have ignored his text. Friendship is still something I’m working toward becoming better at. I sighed a small but noticeable sigh and Delores said, “Relax, you’re in good hands.”
The fact that I still had blood in my lower half meant that this girl obviously had something special about her, and I was soon to find out just what her je ne sais quoi was. The Jag rolled up to a small but fancy home. It was dark. The zeroscaping forced me to appreciate the potentially eco-minded individuals that lived there. “This your place?” I asked. “Nope,” she grinned. I could tell small talk was a thing of the past for us and that we were way beyond that at this point. “Once inside,” she said, “follow me and say nothing.”
As the door cracked open, NagChampa filled my nose, forcing up memories of meditation and the path of righteousness. I then began to feel petty and small for allowing myself to be so easily persuaded into something that I knew, deep down, I would regret. I shook my head weakly from side to side as I realized my hopelessness. I gave in to the immediacy and sensuality of ‘now’ after realizing that I couldn’t not do so. And at that moment I was pushed onto a bed in a room that contained the perfect amount of light, with just enough darkness to prevent me from fully embracing my actions.
Delores removed her clothes and began to crawl on top of me. I was not present, not living in the moment, just like those other two past fails. She reached for my zipper and began the initial step toward penile exposure. I gulped and felt for the volume of blood currently invested. Fear swept over me. My eyes widened, and I reached down my pants to examine my status.
“Huh. So this is what my penis does when the cougar is chasing me.”