Attention Whoring, Horny, Lonely, My favorites

Stage Sex

We get scared of sexual attraction. I was originally going to write: we are scared of sexual attraction, actually I was originally going to write we are scared of sex because I thought that was the most attention grabbing sentence, but I realized that it was the attraction we were scared of as opposed to the act that we hope comes from the attraction, and I realized that we aren’t scared initially, but rather we become scared – we get scared.

We get scared because sexual attraction implies the start of a journey, and we don’t like knowing that there is something about to happen that we don’t completely understand – that something unpredictable may happen. We don’t like the unknown.

I, of course, am using the opposite of the royal we. I love the unknown. I want my drag name to be Miss Adventure because I have a constant desire to be in a journey where things go awry. To me it’s the conclusion of the story that proves frightening. When there are no more adventures to begin, I see very little point left in trying to continue life. Life should be a constant beginning. Thus I am not scared of sexual attraction – I have a fetish for it. I want to be at the beginning of a journey at all times where the conclusion and, in fact, the entire journey is a mystery.

When you feel sexual attraction the opportunities are limitless – rejection, love, sex, heartbreak, etc. could all ensue and all because  of a simple chemical reaction causing a rush of blood to your groin region. I live for etc. It’s why I get on stage.

I went back up on stage for the first time since March 2009. The nine month hiatus was the longest since I played Rooster in Annie Jr. during 8th grade. I got on stage at a story telling Slam where I was going to tell the story of the ex-con-toothless-neo-nazi who wanted to fuck me. They called my name from the hat to perform second. From the back of the house I squeezed my way through the crowd and up the steps to meet with the emcee who had just butchered my impossible to pronounce name. She looked at me with a blank stare. “I am supposed to be here” I said back with my eyes “you called my name.”

“You can just sit to the side for a second.” She said with her mouth. She laughed and continued emceeing; a job that was supposedly not over the second I got to the stage. Being second I had had no guide to follow – no previous performer to copy because the person who went first got to begin the second her name was picked from the bag as opposed to waiting for the emcee to banter with the audience.

I sat on the side of the stage with my heart racing. I could hear the beat in my chest but couldn’t hear the woman two feet away from me making a joke about how adorable, my least favorite self-descriptor, my awkwardness was. I feigned attention and laughed half-heartedly when I heard sounds like laughter from the audience. When I got up to the mic I looked out over my audience and I smiled and I no longer heard my heart pounding. This was what I always searched for – it was where I felt most comfortable and least afraid. I told a brilliant story where the audience was eating every word out of my hand as though I was dripping handfuls of pudding.

I have a sexual attraction to the audience. I’m surprised I’ve never popped a boner after landing a joke. This sexual attraction is not something to run from, this is the only sexual attraction that will never end; the only sexual attraction that will keep providing me with journeys and misadventures which will in turn propel me to get back on stage and recount those stories. The stage offers a completely self-renewing resource of what I want most and fear the least: the unknown. I never get scared of sexual attraction. I’m only scared of commitment. So is every audience, so she and I will stay sexually attracted to each other forever.

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