Back in my college theatre days, I was in this 1970s Sondheim musical “Company”. It centers around a single man named Bobby and his 35th birthday (Bobby, Bobby, Bobby Baby, Robert, darling)- I can hear every lyric in my head today- and his friends who both wonder why he’s single and are yet so jealous of his perceived “exciting single life”. Honestly, I could write my next 15 blog pieces about each song. They always want him to come over and visit (Bobby come on over for dinner, we’ll be so glad to see you) and in turn, question their own relationships and marriages in his presence. It’s kind of a complicated and fantastic show and strangely, though written in the 70s, represents so much of what I see in my own life as an adult. I played Jenny- a stay-at-home mom who smokes pot in one scene and feels her freedom with a string of curse words. I was 21. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha
Company. Having people over. (Phone rings, door chimes, in comes company) Let’s have a dinner party! How about we all get together at my house and watch the game? (I don’t watch games.) Or the worst one- you get home from the grocery store and they are already there (drop by anytime). Now, I’ve mentioned before I’m an introvert. A little like the hide-in-a-hole-and-sometimes-forget-to-wash-my-hair kind of introvert. Sometimes texts feel invasive. But I am also a lover and sharer (obviously) and finally, the last one I’m working on, a pleaser. Uuuuuugh- so not a trait I’m proud of, and I’m trying to shake that shit right out of me. It’s the whole cheap suit thing, and it’s useless and boring as hell. I love listening to people (that is kind of my favorite), but “small talk” makes me sweaty and panicky. If you start talking about what kind of tortilla chips are on sale or skincare trends, my heart gets pound-y, the kids suddenly need me and then I have to go deep breathe in a paper bag upstairs in my closet. But I love you and you are welcome anytime! (With love filling the days, with love 70 ways, to Bobby with love!)
It’s definitely not you, it’s me. It has just taken me a bit longer than most to remember who I am. Or rather to actually be who I am. For a long while, I could do “company” easily. It was how I met people when I was continuously living in new cities and towns. Come over! I will make dessert! (I used to watch the Food Network obsessively trying to figure out how to be a perfect chef/host/entertainer). We will drink expensive-ish wine and talk about the kids and then you will have to go home at some point (usually when I start yawning) and then I’ll move in 6 months anyway so I can drop the act and start over again with a new company of people. It’s why I would get “itchy” when I lived in one place for too long.
Oops.
I think I would like to start again. Definitely not fresh, just for real. There is nothing left of freshness- that’s too close to perfect. That was a year ago. Now I am here and not afraid to tell you who I really am (again, obviously). And I want to know who you are, for real. What makes you cry in the nighttime, how scared are you of being in your 40s and not understanding life yet, tell me what you learned in rehab, did you do the thing you wanted to or should we do it now together, can you promise me you won’t run from me when I forget to wash my hair and when depression sits heavily on my chest like an unwelcome guest, do large crowds freak you out but loneliness is always palpable, do you drink too much sometimes, too, do I have to clean my house or can we just lock eyes and pretend no dust bunnies are tickling our toes? Yes? Then let me introduce myself.
That’s what it’s really about isn’t it? That’s what it’s really about, really about. Company! Company! Company! Lots of company, life is company, love is company. Company!
You genius, Sondheim. Come on over, my loves. xoxoxoxoxoxox
