“That is so awesome, Meghan,” I said. “Wow, I’m amazed.”
“I asked her if she wanted us to schedule something for the two of you,” continued Meghan. “But she said she’d be fine just giving you a call herself. I hope you don’t mind that I gave her your phone number.”
“Not at all,” I said. “That’s so cool.”
“She has a New York City area code,” said Meghan. “That’s 212. I’m sure she’ll reach out in the coming days.”
“I sure hope so,” I said. “Otherwise, you’re really taking me for a ride.” Meghan laughed softly.
“Also, we’ve been working with Comedy Junction,” continued Meghan. “We’ll have the Funny Thirty show booked shortly. You’re still good with whatever we work out, scheduling-wise?”
“Totally,” I said. “I’m free. I’ll head out there whenever you guys decide.”
“Great,” she said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Meghan,” I said, taking a deep breath. “This is all pretty crazy for me. I hope I don’t come off as a complete idiot.”
“No worries, Macy,” she said. I could hear her smile through the phone. “Just keep being funny and doing your thing, and I think we’ll all be quite happy with the results.”
“That means a lot,” I said. “Thank you so much.”
“We’ll be in touch,” said Meghan.
After slipping my phone into my bag, I reached over and punched myself. Yep, still here. Still living this craziness. Meeting Amy Schneider, I mean, that’s a pretty big deal. She’s done a bunch of stand up specials, she has her own TV show, she’s really a powerful voice in women’s comedy. And I admit, it was she who inspired me to do the comedy I do… even if my style isn’t exactly being true to myself. I modeled myself a bit off of Amy and just the thought of meeting her was giving me heart palpitations.
I knew I had a lot to think about and a lot more jokes to write in the coming weeks. And I knew exactly who I needed by my side to get the job done.
Petra and I sat together on her couch, both of us sitting cross-legged, both of us with a pen and notebook in our laps. I had thought about her offer to be my writing partner and although it was a small blow to my ego to bring her in, I knew she had the chops and I knew she could make me a better comedian. And on top of all that, the kiss we shared after our night out was still lingering in my mind. I wasn’t quite sure what to think about it. But after it happened, something in me changed a bit. I softened toward Petra. I began to see her for who she truly was.
She was a close friend, probably my best friend. Petra was someone who stuck by me and accepted me, even though I knew she had trepidations of me doing my straight sex material when I was most certainly a lesbian. She never really gave me guff for that, apart from the occasional teasing rib, and I appreciated that she gave me my space to figure out my comedy and my voice. I had a girlfriend once who, when she found out I was doing straight material on stage, immediately dumped me. I was a traitor to her and there was no arguing against it. I can understand that opinion. But really, I just wanted to make people laugh, I just wanted to entertain, and I fell haplessly into my material and found success. Sometimes that’s just what happens.
But Petra, she wasn’t so black and white. She understood. She knew how tough the comedy world is, what kind of barriers you need to build up, how strong you need to be. Sometimes you just need to do what works for you, give the people what they want, and make some personal sacrifices to follow your dream.
“So I’ve got this joke,” said Petra, looking down into her notebook and tapping her pen. “It’s about how guys are always pressuring girls into anal sex.”
“All right,” I said slowly, giving her a nod. “But… hey,” I said, interrupting her pitch and trying to work out how to phrase my subsequent question in my head. “What do you really think about all this?” I asked. “I mean, the whole pretending to be straight on stage thing?”
“Oh,” said Petra. She brought her pen to her mouth and gave it a chew. “Well, I think it would be really tough for me personally to do.”
“Very political of you,” I said with a smirk.
“C’mon Macy,” she said. “I mean, what do you want me to say? It’s… uh… not who you are.”
“Yeah,” I mused. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately, you know? It’s easy enough to do when I’m a nobody at a small-time club,” I admitted. “But what about when I’m on TV? Like, when people see me on Comedy Junction are they gonna find out that I’m a lesbian and be like, ‘what the hell is this lady trying to be?’”
“Maybe,” said Petra. “It’s a very social world right now. If you got famous, people are going to find out your sexuality. It’s not like you’re in the closet in your normal life. Just on stage.”
“Damn,” I said, shaking my head and straightening my lips. “I just have so much material about men and women.”
“I know,” she said. “Well, do you have any lesbian stuff?”
“Yeah,” I said. I flipped through my notebook a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever showed it to you but I have written a good amount of it.”
“Is it funny?”
“Um, yeah,” I intoned. “Of course it’s funny, it’s me.”
“Why don’t you try some of it out?” said Petra.
“Right now?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re in a safe place,” said Petra with a straight face, patting me on the knee.
“Get outta here,” I said, playfully smacking at her hand. She released a short laugh.
“Give it to me,” said Petra, egging me on. “Let me see what you’re made of.”
“Fine,” I said, scrunching up my nose. I looked down into my notebook and pulled out a joke. “Chicks think they’ve got it hard trying to find a good guy,” I began. “But if you’re a chick trying to find a good woman, let me tell you, dating is even crazier.” I looked up to Petra and smiled.
Petra smiled back and nodded, trying to usher me on to the punchline.
“You never can tell if she’s actually interested or if she’s just trying to find out where you get your hair styled,” I said, looking to Petra with bright eyes.
“Eh,” she said after a moment.
“What?” I said. “C’mon!”
“Not that funny,” smirked Petra. “I mean, you know I don’t really care where I get my hair cut,” she said, flopping her finger at a lock of her hair. “You’re probably the most primped lesbian I know. I don’t think it really rings true enough to be funny.”
“Okay,” I said, looking back to my notebook and feeling a little bit of panic. “Um, well…” I mused, flipping a page, trying to find a joke that I thought was funny but no longer sure I had one. “Petra, I might not be good at this.”
“You just haven’t really practiced,” she said tenderly. I caught her eyes for a moment and we gazed at each other. Ugh. Petra, you’re too nice to me.
“Do you have any lesbian jokes for me?” I said, crossing my arms and pouting.
“How about this,” she said, twirling her pen around. “Sometimes it’s difficult to know what woman to hit on when you’re out at the bar,” said Petra. “But I’ve figured out a sure fire way to find the single ladies. Just look at their fingers,” she said, raising her eyebrow. “No, I don’t mean look for a ring… check out her fingernails. You know you found a single lady when she hasn’t trimmed her nails in a while.”
I laughed softly and let the smile return to my lips.
“I like that,” I said. “That’s funny. We can tighten that up, but that’s pretty good.” I scribbled down the beats of the joke in my notebook.
“Thanks,” said Petra with an innocent smile.
“I don’t know, though,” I said with some pain. “I’ve got so much big shit coming up, I don’t think I can do a total 180 with my material and still succeed.”
“That’s okay,” said Petra tenderly. “I think you’re funny, Macy, I think you’re good. Fuck it,
you know?”
“Fuck it,” I said, smiling, happy that Petra was so accepting. “Hey,” I said. “I’m going to change the subject again.”
“All right.”
“The other night,” I said, sighing softly. “You know, when we were out and drinking and all that.”
“Yeah,” said Petra. She looked off and cleared her throat. She appeared like she was preparing herself for the worst.
“I had fun,” I admitted. “I always have fun with you.” With that, Petra’s expression changed. Her visage became brighter, happier.
“Me too,” she said. “I always have fun with you, too.”
“I’m sorry,” I said with a heave, accessing something pretty difficult inside of me. Sometimes my ego makes it difficult to realize how I’ve been wrong or how I’ve wronged others. “I’m sorry that I’ve been just a wild bitch sometimes.”
“You know how I’ve felt about you,” Petra shyly murmured. I could feel my heart begin to quicken with her utterance. I knew. I had always known but had just tried to ignore it for whatever selfish reason. Petra wasn’t my type. She was good. She was accepting. I’d always gone for the bad girl, the kind of girl that often mistreated me. And Petra wasn’t like that.
“Yeah,” I said, slowly bouncing my head. “Yeah, I know.” After an expectant pause, a silence that held a lot of possibility, I spoke back up trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, here’s another one.”
“Okay shoot,” said Petra, trying to suppress her smile. I knew she could tell that something more was growing between us.
“A lesbian friend of mine recently asked me,” I began. “‘Macy, how do you really view lesbian relationships?’” I paused for effect, waiting a beat to keep Petra on the hook. “She wasn’t too enthused when I said, ‘In High Def.’” Petra giggled and shook her head.
“That’s silly,” she said.
“You get it?” I asked. “Is it clear?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Porn. Yeah, high def is very clear.” She laughed again.
“I’m not all bad,” I said with an enthusiastic smile.
“I like writing with you, Macy,” said Petra. “Is this gonna be a thing? I mean, are we gonna be a thing?”
“Well,” I said, putting up a front. “I just don’t know.” I was pretending to be uncertain and standoffish, but I felt something roiling within me, a jumble in my belly, an ache that was calling out for Petra.
“Of course you don’t,” balked Petra, crossing her arms and giving me a sarcastic look.
“You!” I called out and then leapt from my sitting position on Petra’s couch, jumping onto her and beginning to wrestle with her. She began to laugh uncontrollably as we mock-fought, me trying to push her down into the couch while she pushed up to try to get me off of her. I could tell she loved it, mostly because Petra was bigger than me and could have pretty easily pushed me off. But she didn’t.
“Hey!” she cried out as I began pinching her sides. “Cut it out!”
We wrestled a little bit more until Petra simply stopped struggling and just gazed up at me. She got a silly look on her face, a look like she was just reveling in having me on top of her.
“C’mon,” I said. “Fight back.”
“Macy, you know what I like about you,” she said. I began to feel nervous again. I had really opened the doors up with Petra. “You’re such a weird enigma.”
“What?” I said, letting out a giggle. “C’mon, what does that even mean?”
“Well,” she said, looking off for a moment as she processed her thoughts. “You’re a total lipstick lesbian,” she said, smirking up at me. Petra reached out and flipped a chuck of my lightly curled hair out. “You dress so girly. But you’re so like a dude,” Petra said, laughing. “You’re bawdy and lewd and just… I don’t know… masculine.”
“Masculine?” I said incredulously. “Now I’m really going to pound you into this couch.” I started to fuss with her again, our hands locked, fingers intertwined, struggling together there into the soft cushions.
“No!” said Petra, protesting, unable to suppress her laugh. “I don’t mean that you’re a man,” she said. “You just kinda… have the sensibilities of one, if that makes any sense.”
“Hmph!” I said, sitting up on Petra now, my short legs straddling her, my arms crossing over my chest.
“It’s what I like about you!” she said. “It’s a positive!”
Suddenly my phone began to buzz on the coffee table and we both looked over at it. I maintained my mock-upset stance, pretending that I was angry at Petra but in reality I was feeling closer to her than ever.
“Fine,” she said after a moment of me not reaching to answer my phone. Petra leaned over, still under me, and grabbed my phone, looking into the screen. “It’s a number that’s not in your contacts,” she said. “It’s a 212 area code.”
“Whoa!” I said, quickly reaching for it, snatching it out of Petra’s hands. I held it for a moment, looking at the phone number, and then met my eyes with Petra’s. “This could be Amy Schneider.”
I took a deep breath, calming myself, steadying my frame on top of Petra, trying not to be super excited. But I was. I was super excited. Life was really getting nuts.
Dragging my finger across the screen of my phone to answer it, I slowly brought it up to my ear.
“Hello?” I said gently.
I slipped down the sidewalk wearing my khaki short shorts and a loose t-shirt to beat the heat, phone and notebook in my hand, making my way toward the coffee shop to try to get a little bit of work done. If my writing meeting with Petra had showed me anything, it’s that even if I wanted to start telling lesbian sex jokes up on stage I wasn’t yet ready. It’s not that I wasn’t funny or wasn’t a lesbian, I was quite obviously both of those things, it’s that I didn’t have the experience writing the kind of jokes I wanted to tell. But I knew that with Petra on my side, working on new jokes for me, that I could come out of this all right.
From behind my sunglasses I suddenly saw a slim figure waltzing my way and after a moment of watching it became apparent to me that this figure was George. She was in really tight black skinny jeans and a somewhat grimy looking white tee, black boots on her feet. Her short blonde hair was greased back and she wore black Ray-Bans over her eyes. She held her beat up laptop under her arm. God was she hot. I mean, I could no longer put up with the lack of emotion investment and the whole ‘finger and fly’ way she addressed sex, but I could still admit to myself that this chick was smoking.
And I can begin to admit to you that Macy’s love brain was changing. I was softening to Petra, the kind of woman who was actually good for me. Sure, Petra could be a downer sometimes, a little bit depressive, a little whiny, but that was part of her complete personality. You’re not going to find the perfect girl. She just don’t exist, babes. What was perfect about Petra was that she wasn’t the type of girl to phone you up at two in the morning looking to bump mounds all the while reeking of booze. No, Petra wanted to go out to a nice dinner, hold hands, crack jokes, and then maybe bump mounds if you were into it too.
“Hey,” said George evenly as the two of us met. I slid my sunglasses up into my hair though George kept hers over her eyes.
“Hi,” I said with a light smile.
“Haven’t heard from you in a bit,” she said, looking off, trying to play it cool. She had texted me off and on over the last week, late night of course, but I had always had an excuse as to why she couldn’t come over to mess around.
“Yeah,” I said, dragging out the vowel with a skeptical tone. “Sorry, I just don’t think this thing is working out anymore.”
“What?” said George, knocked a bit off guard, contorting her face a bit as she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I mean, to be honest with you George,” I began. I just turned off the filter and let my lips fly. It was a skill I had learned on stage. Sometimes you just have to say whatever it is you’re thinking to get the truth out. “I’m n
ot just looking for a fuck, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re super hot and when you do actually go down on me it’s pretty good. But the emotion thing,” I said, moving my hand back and forth between the two of us. “It’s just not happening.”
“Really?” she said, reaching for her disaffected attitude. “I thought things were going all right.”
“Yeah, well, that’s sorta the problem,” I said. “You get it?”
“Sure,” said George.
“Look, I’m cool with the time we spent together,” I said, repositioning my sunglasses back over my eyes and getting ready to leave. “And I wish you well with your writing. And maybe I’ll see you around. But I gotta stop going for girls like you, no matter how attractive I find them.”
“Fair enough,” said George, offering a shrug. “If you’re ever looking for a hook up, you’ve got my number.”
“I appreciate that,” I said with a smile, placing my hand on George’s shoulder. “But that’s a Macy Maxwell I really need to leave behind.”
“All right,” she said.
“Okay,” I replied. “So… see you around!” I offered George a friendly wave and continued my stride past her, the wonderful summer sun beating down on me and warming me up. It was almost as though the day had gotten brighter after my conversation with George. It was always nice to get your feelings out rather than keep them bottled up. I had gotten tired of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. And with my star on the rise, I couldn’t afford it. It was time to shift into serious mode. You gotta stop screwing around, Macy, and you gotta chase your dreams. You’re so close.
“So,” I said into the microphone, standing up on stage at a place I loved, the wonderful club Loonies, grinning out into a captive audience. I had since been given longer sets, middling for various acts that came through, opening for comics that, although not household names, had inspired me when I was first getting my start just a few short years back. It was thrilling. It made me feel legit. “I want to talk to you all about a topic that’s near and dear to my heart.”
Salacious Stand Up: A Funny Lesbian Romance by Nicolette Dane (2016-06-22) Page 13