How I Almost Became Someone's Sidepiece

This is a story I promised to you all nearly a decade ago. All names have been changed. (I had this mostly typed up before I broke my arm, so I figured I could post it in the meantime while I continue to recover.)

Summer 2018. I auditioned for Mary Poppins -- my favourite film EVER as a child -- and got into the ensemble. This was my first show outside of college, my first step in making my own opportunities (since the college seemed hell-bent on making sure they buried me as deeply as possible). The Angel of Death had been in the rearview mirror for over three years. I thought I was safe.

 

I was having the time of my life.

 

It was the happiest I'd been since 2011-2012. I was genuinely in love with life. I was performing full-time for the first time ever in a show I had loved my entire life. The joy in my heart knew no bounds.

 

The cast gelled well, despite the director's attempts to divide us into 'haves' and 'have-nots.' Often at least a handful of us would go out to a restaurant or a club after rehearsal.

 

On one of these nights, maybe opening week?, a dozen or so of us went to a tiny club. Franz, our Bert, went up to the DJ and asked for '90s music. Since we were quite literally the only people there, he got his wish. Many of us went up and danced, several rounds were bought (I didn't take any, as I had a twenty-minute drive home and absolutely zero alcohol experience). I danced a lot -- a lot of these were quite literally songs I grew up dancing to: dance recital staples of the late '90s and early 2000s.

 

Carl, the pianist/music director for the show, had joined us for this outing. When I returned to the bar to catch my breath, he complimented my dancing. I thanked him. We exchanged a couple sentences, but it was too loud to have a real conversation. We all had a great time; I didn't get home until after 12.30am, completely sober, but high on life.

 

Several days later, as we all left the theatre after a show, I turned left toward where I parked while most of the others turned right. No plans had been made -- a larger-than-usual percentage of the cast had said they were too tired to go out. Carl caught up to me.

 

"Are you going anywhere?" he asked.

 

"Probably just home, unless others are going somewhere," I said. "I haven't heard of anything though."

"Oh. Well, I was thinking of going to Brown's" -- he nodded at the bar and grill across the street -- "if anybody wants to join."

 

"Sure, I'll join," I said.

 

He called down the sidewalk to some of the others, extending the invitation. They declined. Carl and I crossed the street and got a table. I seem to remember that two others from the cast joined us there, but left after one drink. I was starving, and ordered myself a plate of nachos -- the only thing on the menu that didn't involve chicken (a protein I was famous for hating).

 

We sat there talking for probably two hours. I believe I paid for my own meal, though I'm not entirely sure.

 

Two days later, he arranged another late-night dinner in a similar way. This time, it was definitely just him and me, and we were sitting in a booth in Boston Pizza.

 

This one felt different. He asked, casually, if I was single, and I said I was. We chatted some more, and a little later, out of absolutely nowhere, he said, "So I'm divorced."

 

That was the moment I realised what was happening.

 

He went on to give a brief overview of what happened -- apparently she cheated and left him. We talked for an hour or two. I'm almost sure he paid for the meal. I drove back home deep in thought.

 

First was the age gap. He was eleven years older than I was. I was not yet 25. While I knew an age gap was workable -- my parents' age gap is even wider --  it wasn't something I had seriously considered for myself.

 

Second was I had no idea how to date. I didn't mind the idea of getting married, I had just never pursued anyone, or had anyone pursue me. I had a couple things in mind that I was looking for in a husband, but I had thought very little about the actual, real possibility.

 

The next morning my roommate got the story out of me. She asked me if I had a picture of him, so I showed her his headshot in the program. She gushed about how cute he was.

 

I told a small handful of other friends, and they all encouraged me to see where things went. By now Carl and I were messaging each other on Facebook (quite formally). At the closing night for the show, we chatted about where to go from here. I said I was going back home (out-of-province) to work for a week between shows but would be back for the start of the school year. He was also going on vacation for a few days, so we arranged to text and meet up once we were both back.

 

After the first week of school, I messaged him, letting him know I was back and settling into the semester. I was a little confused that he hadn't messaged me yet, but he did strike me as a bit shy so I figured I could get the ball rolling just as well.

 

This went on for two more weeks. I'd message him once or twice a week with my upcoming availability, and he wouldn't commit to a firm plan.

 

Finally, at the end of September, as I was warming up for dance practice, my phone finally dinged.

 

He explained, very politely, that there were suddenly some sparks flying between him and a different woman and he wanted to see where that went as they had been friends for a long while already. It was genuinely the gentlest let-down possible, given the circumstances.

 

I was hurt but also not fully surprised, given the long silence that preceded this explanation. I responded equally politely, though I did make it clear that I would have preferred to know that he had a second potential romance brewing so I knew where things were at. I think I even wished him and the other woman well.

 

Then I set the phone down, scrolled to the Steve Scott section of my iPod, and accidentally choreographed three-quarters of Emotional Tourist in one go.

 

M died days later.

 

In the wake of such a devastating loss just when I thought I was finally safe, I had no heart left with which to miss Carl. He passed very quickly into my personal history (quicker than I could do with M, if we're honest).

 

Until November 2018 -- two months later.

 

One of the freshmen at the college, who I had worked with during Mary Poppins, got chatting with me in the hallway one day. She point-blank asked me what I thought of Carl. I said he had kind of pursued me for a bit, then told me something had started with someone else and broke it off, and that I hadn't talked to him since.

 

She said he did that same thing to her and told her story. But as she was telling the story, she gave dates.

 

Carl had asked her to start dating in June 2018 -- actually dating, actually put a name to it. They continued dating through the entire Mary Poppins production, and had continued going out as she started college. But then he started asking her for sexual favours, which she refused on religious grounds. This was something they had discussed early on in the relationship and initially agreed on, but now he was changing his mind. He kept pressuring her, and eventually she broke up with him rather than surrender her principles.

 

I agreed with her that that was weird and not a great situation, but my mind was racing. They started dating in June and broke up in October. Carl first took me on a date at the end of July. She was the 'other woman.' What was more, they had already been actively dating when Carl started pursuing me.

 

I was Carl's side piece. I was supposed to be the affair partner. He had been trying to cheat on her with me -- and I had no idea.

 

I did not tell her any of this. She seemed to be quite over him, as was I. I decided it was all in the past, and we continued to be decent friends until the end of the school year, when I graduated and moved away.

 

It was as if the floodgates opened. Suddenly random guys were taking an interest in me. A boy who had liked me in youth group before friend-zoning me started messaging me out of the blue whenever he saw I was online. We had not spoken in ten years. I was polite but aloof, and he never did come out and say what he wanted. I knew exactly what type of woman he was looking for, but I was definitely no longer that woman. I knew I would suffocate with his family as in-laws (little did I know what the future held for me...). The advances kept coming, and I blew them all off. It wasn't worth the hassle. I kept going to class, choreographing, writing when I could, auditioning for shows.

 

The following spring, I submitted for an audition call for Chicago. They accepted my submission and sent me a time slot. In this email, they also included a list of who was going to be in the audition room -- something that's not usually done. It's generally understood that there will be the director, the producer, an accompanist, and possibly a associated people like the stage manager, choreographer, wardrobe, or music director (if not the same person as the pianist). But this theatre, this time, included a list of names.

 

And Carl was the accompanist.

 

I started laughing.

 

Most of you know what kind of show Chicago is. I had no feelings for this man, positive or negative, but I knew he had tried to have his cake and eat it too and lost both of us in the process. He may well have gotten a woman by now if he didn't try so hard to maximize his chances. I decided to show him exactly what he had lost through his inability to commit to one person.

 

I had already planned to wear a silver sparkling ruffled dress with jeweled spaghetti straps and a hemline that reached all the way down to my mid-thigh. I had also planned to wear my recently-acquired fishnet tights because why not? My theatre shoes were already elegant and fetching. But knowing he was going to be there, I did my hair and makeup and added a fringed, sparkly scarf with which I could use my ADHD fidgeting habit for good. This was nothing at all like how I usually dress.

I didn't even care about being Roxie anymore. I just wanted to see his reaction.

 

I entered the audition room on the fifth floor, greeted the directors, handed my sheet music to a wide-eyed Carl with a neutral but friendly smile, did my monologue and song, took my sheet music back, thanked them all, and left.

I was not even back to the stairwell entrance when my phone dinged. Carl was messaging me.

Hey, it was super nice to see you again! It's been a while. You want to get coffee sometime this week?

I don't remember exactly what I said, but I did have the decency to outright reject the offer rather than ghosting him. I was not going to settle for 'side piece.'

 

I am married now to a different person, and the other woman is too. As far as I know, Carl's still single... or maybe still pretending to be, when it's convenient for him.

Things I Did At Thirty

I never thought I'd make it to thirty. And then when I did get to my thirtieth birthday, I mostly felt washed-up and useless.

If you are coming up an thirty and are feeling the same way, let me tell you that your life is NOT over yet.

After my thirtieth birthday, I...

- Choreographed my first full musical production.

- Submitted a dance film to a major film festival.

- Finally made a sorely-needed career change.

- Made yet another dance film -- my favourite so far.

- Auditioned for four things -- the most since the pandemic, and impressive when you consider the real lack of art in my general area. Was offered a role for two of them.

- Got into a different show without an audition.

- Almost finished rewriting the first half of my novel for the second time.

- Got two crochet commissions.

- Started streaming.

- Started drawing (mostly pencil crayons).

- Injured my back to the point where I could not walk... and then rehabilitated it to the point where I can dance again.

- Acquired three more houseplants (that have survived. There was also a lavender tree that died a very dramatic death almost immediately after purchase).

First Quarter Review

It's the end of March... the end of the first quarter of 2023. Already it's been a great year in terms of goals and stepping forward into my performing artist dreams.

Some highlights...

- Participated in Nachmo (National Choreography Month) in January.

- Created an entire choreographic work/dance film from scratch in 58 days.

- Was one of only eight choreographers accepted to show their work in the Nachmo Online Film Festival.

- Released my first-ever long-form dance work to the public.

- Was invited to audition for a speaking role in one of the largest and most recognisable productions in Canada.

- Passed an exam at work, resulting in me getting a new role with more responsibilities.

- Went to a tap dance festival (met Dianne Walker and Jessie Sawyers for the first time).

- Got my second-ever dance commission project.

- Got to improv live again.

I have gotten more opportunities and education in the past three months than I did in my entire $80,000 college degree. This makes me both sad (about the time and money I wasted) and hopeful (that I am capable of doing this myself no matter what anybody else says).

Now for the hard part... trying not to coast.

Update... The Big Pond

Update on living in Alberta again...

It's beautiful. But it's also probably been the darkest, most difficult time of my life so far.

It's MUCH harder even to get an audition here. I've responded to quite a few audition calls and not even been invited to the auditions. I've landed more job interviews than auditions (and given how the job hunt has been going, that's saying something).

The original plan, back in April, was to stay in Saskatchewan (probably Regina) for a year or two, for more experience (which would hopefully eventually translate into actual ability...). It's a relatively small theatrical pond, sure, but I'm also a pretty small fish. It would have been a good place to learn and grow and get a chance to hone my skills -- at least in Regina, some theatres did like my work enough to at least stick me in ensemble. In the past year especially I did a huge amount of hustling in Regina because that was where I expected to stay, so that was where I made my connections.

Instead, I've now ended up in Calgary, which is a significantly bigger (and therefore more competitive) pond, and I have absolutely zero connections here. In Regina I at least knew a bunch of theatre people -- I had a network. Here I have literally nothing. Most of the people in my current show here, while very nice and generally good at what they do, aren't in the theatre scene at all outside of that one show once a year, so they can't really help me.

I'm trying to look at it as a 'sink or swim' situation. I have to get my skills up to par -- there is no other option if I want to survive. I can't grow slowly and steadily now, I have to grow in leaps and bounds. I have to level up. I'm not quite sure how without practice (you know... actually doing shows), but I'm going to have to figure out a way. Preferably an inexpensive way -- as I hinted above, the job-hunt/financial situation is nothing less than terrifying, on a visceral level. I'm in a heightened state of stress and tension 24/7 because I am literally one month away from living on the street. I haven't truly relaxed, even physically, in... I don't even know how long. (Probably about a year -- last summer, before school kicked in again.) The only silver lining about being under this level of stress for so long is that I have no appetite so at least I'm saving money on food.

Art and Fog (The Raft In The Sea)

I forgot how much I love the performing arts.

I'm into my third week living alone in a bigger city than I ever have before, and last week did NOT go well. As I suspected would happen, I felt unseen and unheard and trapped, not in the concrete/steel jungle, but in this huge empty house. I didn't (still don't) even have gas money to go out to a bookstore or something (nor would I have had money to spend at said bookstore). Longtime readers know this is a recipe for disaster, and by this past weekend I literally did not care about anything. I think I ate a total of three actual meals from Wednesday till yesterday (Tuesday), supplemented by Pop Tarts, watched TV for literally three straight days, and went off my asthma meds completely (mostly by accident, but that did not help matters).

At some point during that fog, between episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, I followed every actor/dancer/theatre Facebook group I could find in my new city. Between those and some groups I already follow from elsewhere, I found a handful of auditions, and most of them would accept video auditions.

Most were due this weekend and I'm gone this weekend, so I set aside today to film all of them in one go (I discovered if I pray enough, that piece-of-trash memory card does work intermittently. At this point it's better than nothing). And afterwards, as I sat sipping my peanut-butter smoothie, I felt... just a tiny little bit better. Acting and dancing for the camera all day had distracted me from the dark fog long enough to catch a breath.

I've hinted at this but never actually come out and said it publicly -- in April I decided to quit the arts. I had three shows outstanding at the time I made this decision, and I planned to finish those and then... fling myself into the artless abyss, whatever that looked like. I literally do not have any interests or passions outside the arts. Literally none. I assumed I'd die shortly after finishing my last show (which I suppose is still not outside the realm of possibility as I haven't finished that show yet). I stopped auditioning, I stopped looking, I stopped practicing, I stopped trying.

But today, having spent all day acting and dancing... I don't know if turning my back on all that training and joy is wise... or even sane. I often think I'm exaggerating when I say I can't live without the arts, but today reminded me that's actually true. It keeps me at least somewhat afloat in this dark heaving sea of life and depression that pulls me down into its depths with full intent to smother me.

To quit the arts is a literal suicide mission. But so much of the performing arts is dependent on someone actually casting you.

Say what you will about autonomy and self-sufficiency and independence and all that crap, my life is in the hands of the local casting directors.

The Useless Artist

It's been a difficult, discouraging week.

To start off, my beloved word processor Lila may be dead for good -- including some newly-written scenes for Kyrie that hadn't been backed up yet. She's been with me nine years, and I genuinely cannot imagine life without her (what? I'm single, it's not like I have a human to use that line with anyway). There was a scare in February, but she came back... she's a tough little thing, and I thought it was just a bump in the road. She alone was my companion in my teen years when I was isolated in the middle of nowhere, raising four kids, bullied at church, and trying desperately to stay on the nonexistent right side of an abusive parent without also compromising the safety of my siblings. She came with me to Saskatchewan and prevented boredom on many slow days at work. She was a key player in twelve novels and has been a huge part of the Kyrie revision so far. Without her, I don't know if that revision will ever get finished.

I'm living my dream now -- a west-facing window with both a skyline view and a mountain view, my tap floor in the basement for practicing whenever I want (within reason -- the walls are shared with neighbours), but yet, I'm trapped in the house because if I go out anywhere, I'll end up spending money. Money I don't have. Because literally nobody in Canada will hire me for even a basic, entry-level cashier job, let alone anything else I apply for (yesterday morning alone I literally applied for 36 jobs). All I have to live on for probably the rest of my life is a couple hundred dollars. I have zero income to replace what I'm spending on rent. (I'm not spending it on gas because I'm not going anywhere and I'm not spending it on food because I have no motivation to eat and also the money will last longer if I don't eat.)

I can't even make audition videos or even dance videos because I need a new memory card for my video camera. But I can't afford one. In today's online world, you literally CAN NOT get anywhere without the ability to record video and post it online. That's the only way people even have a chance to see what you have to offer.

So there it is. I'm in this beautiful city I can't explore, I can't write, I can't really do anything dance-wise, I'm locked out of a lot of auditions, and I can't even get up and go work a menial 9-to-5 because literally nobody thinks I'm employable... I, who have worked in literally three different fields and have a Bachelor's degree in yet a different field entirely.

Money can't buy happiness, but it can at least buy life... or at least a life worth the air I'm breathing. Right now I'm just taking up space and bringing nothing to anybody. I'm just sitting here quietly spiraling, and since I have no friends here, there's nobody to stop me. I feel unseen and unheard and of no consequence to anybody. For an artist -- for someone who has literally spent their entire life trying to create things that change people and make them feel -- this is the literal worst thing that could possibly happen. If nobody can see or hear me in any of my avenues of expertise (writing, dance, or theatre), that means I'm not having an impact.

And that means I'm useless.

Emotional Tourist - A Retrospective (2018)

This year, I lived.

Not as in 'survived,' I lived. From February-August I was either rehearsing or performing at least one show (An Ideal Husband, Pygmalion, Anne of Green Gables, Oklahoma!, and Mary Poppins), and then in mid-October I started rehearsing the next show -- hopefully the first of another good long stretch again. I have never known joy and excitement and the thrill of being alive like I did during the Mary Poppins run -- to actually be a part of a story I'd loved since I was three years old was truly special.

And I traveled. Quite a lot. I've never really thought of myself as much of a traveler, but I actually quite enjoyed it. I went back and forth between my parents' place and mine many times, I went to the city and explored a few times, I went up north for a wedding, I went to southern Alberta for an audition... and I took pictures of most of it on film, which somehow makes the experience richer even though 90% of the pictures suck.

I made friends with other performers. I stayed up till one in the morning talking and eating and dancing with these friends -- these people I might never have met. I watched them all grow and succeed and laugh and cry and look out for each other and stick together.

I made more impulsive decisions. Like driving seven hours to an audition in a city I have literally only seen twice in my entire life and then crashing on my dad's cousin's couch for the night. Or like going for coffee with one of the musicians I'd literally never spoken to before at 10.30pm after a two-show day. Or going to the city and shooting a whole bunch of film because I was bored. Or going to see local theatre productions because I wanted a night out. Or skipping two days of school to drive out to my dear friend's funeral. Or attending NaNoWriMo write-ins, for the first time EVER in my ten years of NaNoWriMo. Or doing a ten-hour round-trip to a three-hour wedding and only getting back in at 1.30am, surviving the dark, late, relatively boring drive only by the grace of God and loud driving music.

I began seriously rewriting Kyrie, and I actually got a bit of a system going. I've written some additional scenes, and rewritten a handful of pre-existing ones. I'm starting to figure out a more detailed timeline of events.

 I began writing original fiction again, for the first time since my cousin died in April 2015.

I began fighting for myself more. I began to realise (mostly through my experience with Mary Poppins) that I AM talented, darn it, and not one of you is going to tell me I'm not. I will prove you wrong. I've done it before and I'll do it again, with or without your support. I began enjoying life and giving less of a crap what people think I should be doing or can do.

I started learning Thai, mostly for the heck of it. I took a college class outside of my program for the first time since 2016 and I met some really great people there. I started learning piano and found that I love it.

Life is rich, and full, and sweet, and I tasted just the edge of it this year.