Actually Scorched.

I met R. on a climbing trip in West Virginia. We hooked up in my tent for the last two nights. Then it turned into a two-year romance, spread thin between my home in New York, his in Texas, and a bunch of dirtbag crags in between. And spread thin over not much communication in between. It wasn’t a typical romance but it was the kind I finally said would be okay, since waiting around for perfection left me coming up short every time.

The breakup came in April, about a week after my mom’s cancer was found. He carried it out as badly as I could have expected, over a clumsy text exchange wherein he revealed he was dating someone local. And had been for six months, including while we were together in Mexico for New Year’s. And that was that, or so I thought.

So I found myself at the hotel one night a week later, nursing wounds in a place I’d been wounded so many times before! And I was anxious because, well, a certain Boy Witch looks an awful lot like R., if R. had been healthier psychologically, as I knew, and wasn’t it going to be strange to spend a few hours chasing after someone who made me think of him like that?

But I stood in Manderley for happy hour and sipped my scotch like always and it was very nearly time to check in, and then the text came. He was coming to New York in three days, he said. For work. Would I want to meet up and talk? Oh of course, of course *now* he wants to talk. Couldn’t be moved for two years to put a name on whatever we were but yes, now, let’s talk now.

And then it was time to go inside, and all the effort I’d made to hold my stupid heart together the previous week was ruined. Of course he followed me in here, he found a way to break through the spell this place has up that keeps me out of painful reality.

And indeed, there was that particular Boy Witch, and I followed him dutifully through his loop, distracted by the occasional familiarity of his face. I dressed him, which is a scene I hate because it is stressful, and painful to see someone in such agony, but you have to be there to help him put himself back together. And I go to this scene because it leads to my favorite interaction on that loop, which comes next: he takes my hand and we race breathlessly down the stairs, until the last flight when he lets go and disappears around the corner, far enough ahead of me to surprise me and push me into the wall.

He holds me by the throat, leans in and kisses my face. He says “thank you.” All of this is familiar, it’s what I know is coming, and its comfort is why I am here. He turns to walk away, but then he stops. Turning slowly, he comes back to me and presses his hand into my chest. He lingers and stares. “Your heart sings,” he says. My broken heart sings.

Of course he didn’t know, he had no idea, how could he have? It was just chance, that this little deviation from the usual script would be so perfectly timed. I broke, I utterly broke. 

There was a 1:1 that I to this day still consider the greatest one I ever had. At one point, I know the performer felt it was also, but it’s been almost eight years now so who’s to say now. We also both shared a laugh – and a groan – when we heard the rumors about what some people thought a “greatest” 1:1 might have involved. It was absolutely on script and no rules were broken. Just can't say the same about all the props. And of course none of this is going to read like it felt, and it was all contingent on who we were, what had happened in life, and in the hotel, over the preceding few months, and that context is both private and hard to talk about precisely, but I suppose is a part of the magic of the theater in any case. (Porter 1:1 spoilers)

For the anniversary, and because I think coronavirus will shortly make such things very difficult, I did a double. My previous visit in February had felt so tired and worn out, so I wanted to see how the new casts are configured – and oh my god were they strong.

Early Show

- Ruby in the bar: “To what do we owe the honor? I don’t trust birthdays. If I start trusting birthdays I’ll have to count my own.” - Nate Boy Witch shot me dead. Pow. Nate’s new hair now makes him literally look like the beefier update of my ex in Texas, so there’s also that. - Finally got to see Brandon’s fabled Porter and it is so charming I wanted to scream. - We’ll call this combination Pretty Lobby, because they are oh so pretty, and since this appears to be a regular thing, *enjoy it everyone a lobby like this doesn’t happen every day* - Got Lost Luggage literally all to myself with Jack - Joy-Marie Thompson, new Bald, is fantastic - Thryn Saxon’s Danvers serves serious Elizabeth Behnke sternness (shout-out to all my fellow Babylon Berlin fans)

Late Show - I figured since the early show’s cast had been so phenomenal this one would inherently disappoint. Lol no, the hotel has other plans this cycle. - Zach Martens truly is one of the greatest Malcolms of the 9 years I’ve been stalking Malcolms - Paul Zivkovich has returned to Macbeth. Old Scorched readers will understand that I haven’t followed Macbeth for a full loop since Paul’s last show before The Drowned Man in 2013, so I had forgotten how some of it goes. And yet it was almost like no time had passed at all. - Issa and Jeff in the Lobby, with their extreme height difference, is wonderful. - For as much as I loved Brandon’s Porter, Jeff wins a medal for a 1:1 with bits of Will, bits of Paul, and something special and entirely his own.

Miscellany

I didn’t know the bar staff, but they had clearly gotten a memo about me? Knew my drink? Took great care of me? *Tipping heavily* And then it’s not clear to me what planet we’re on, since everything else this week had been pure Hell Dimension... but then these shows happened, and then this:

“You’re such a joy to watch in all your roles. Sorry that I two-loop you sometimes.” “Oh my god I don’t care, you’re lots of fun.” “Plus you’ve figured out which loops I like.” “Yeah, the gay ones. You like all the gay ones.” “After nine years I don’t come here to deal with straight people.”

There are a handful of people at Sleep No More who consistently make me so, so happy, they do such extraordinary work, and they have, by now, seemed to become aware of just which little moments mean so much to me, and they somehow know how to maximize the impact of those brief little encounters that we share.

-Great cast all around

-Terrible audience

-Really full

-Fire alarm

-Two hours of alarm strobes

-My newbie friend thought it was part of the show

-In some places the Black Lodge effect was cool

-Mostly it was nauseating

-No interrogation

-No hanging, just a strangling

-Hope it worked out for the house staff in the end :-(