“Wow,” I said. “This has really taken a load off me. I’ve been worried about this for a little while.” Petra smiled at me, reached over, and tenderly squeezed my leg.
“Just get back to work,” said Meghan. “And watch your email. I’ve got more information coming your way. I’m glad the conversation with Amy was constructive. Let’s kick butt in Boston, okay?”
“Okay!” I said. “Thank you so much, Meghan.”
“My pleasure,” she said. “Anything else I can help you with?”
“That’s it!” I said. “I’ll keep an eye on my email.”
“Thanks Macy,” said Meghan. “Have a great rest of your day.”
“You too!”
I ended the call on my phone and dropped it down to the couch. I looked at Petra with wide eyes, excitement building in my face.
“Good news?” she said wryly.
“That was easy!” I squealed.
Petra laughed and hugged me, the two of us bobbing there back and forth in our loving embrace. We had work to do!
I sat up at the bar at the Stand Up Affiliate, my glass filled with tonic water and a lime wedge on the rim, a nice little fake drink to make the other comics think I was drinking. Ralph was behind the bar cleaning a glass, Darnell and Frank were there, Howie was sitting at the end of the bar scribbling some notes down in his accounting notebook. It was before the doors opened and I was waiting for Petra to arrive. Although Howie was quite aware of what was going on with me, I had played my cards pretty close to my chest and I figured it was about time to let everybody know what was going on.
I knew that, unfortunately, I probably wouldn’t be calling the Affiliate home for much longer. I’d been doing fewer and fewer sets there, instead performing over at Loonies, and I was sure that after I did the TV show I’d probably have to head out on a tour. I’d never done the stand up road thing but it excited me to think about it. I pictured Petra and I, together in a van that we’d outfitted with a bed and some creature comforts, driving across the country, performing anywhere that would let me on stage. Weird, I know, but apart from my stand up dream, I’d also always dreamed of living out of a van for some cross-country travel. I guess that’s a bit of a hippie coming out of me, despite being such a princess at times.
Casually strolling in, Petra yanked her backpack off and hefted it down onto one of the bar stools. We smiled at one another, though didn’t really display any other affection. We had been keeping things professional, secret really, not wanting to break anything to the other comedians too soon. But she knew I was planning on letting them all know then. I could no longer hide it. The show was coming up soon and they were all quite aware that I’d been altering my act.
“Hey dude,” I said to Petra, reaching out to her. We slithered our hands together for a moment, holding onto one another’s forearms.
“Yo,” she said. Petra adjusted her glasses and fussed with her hair.
“Beer?” asked Ralph, leaning over the bar and looking to Petra.
“Sure,” she said. “You drinking?” Petra said almost inaudibly to me, a look of surprise on her face. She knew that I was trying to cut back and focus on my goals.
“Nah,” I said quietly, giving her a wink.
“All right,” she said with a knowing nod.
As Ralph slid a beer bottle over toward Petra, Darnell saddled up next to us and lifted himself up onto a stool.
“Ladies,” he said unflappably.
“Gentleman,” I said, mimicking his tone.
“I’m surprised to even see you here tonight, girl,” he said to me. As he spoke, Frank slunk over toward us, beer in hand, joining into the conversation.
“Why’s that?” I said.
“You always seem to conveniently have another slot booked,” said Frank. “But we’re never invited to these performances. Odd.”
“Very, very odd,” said Darnell, stroking the beard on his chin.
“Very odd indeed,” interjected Petra, mocking Darnell by stroking her own chin.
“Word on the street,” began Darnell. “And believe me when I tell you that I know the street,” he said with a smirk. “Is that Macy Maxwell is trending upwards.”
“Nah,” I said, feeling embarrassed, trying to downplay it. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you guys with the news, but I’m pregnant.”
“For real?” said Darnell, giving me an overdramatic look of skepticism. “So you can get pregnant from eating pussy? That must be what’s going on in here,” he said, reaching down and grabbing at his own overlarge stomach.
“Stop!” I said, laughing. I loved Darnell and his jokes. I lightly smacked him on the arm as I continued laughing.
“I’d say Frank was pregnant, too,” said Darnell, moving his hand back and giving Frank a smack on the belly. “But I think he’s just an alcoholic.”
“Guilty,” said Frank. I laughed along with them. Our banter made me so happy.
“Guys,” I said finally, wiping at my eye and offering a smile. “I do have some news.”
Petra offered me a supportive grin, her lips sealed, letting me have the stage and do all the talking.
“Lay it on us, babe,” said Darnell, lifting up his beer bottle and taking a slug of it.
“I got a TV gig,” I said. With that, Darnell did a spit take, a mouthful of beer exiting his lips and landing on the already sticky floor.
“What?!” he said incredulously.
“I booked a slot on the Funny Thirty,” I said happily. “I’m heading out to Boston soon to do my act.”
“Congratulations,” said Frank, his typical gruff demeanor having faded as he came over to me and gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “You deserve it, Macy.”
“Thanks Frank,” I said, patting my hand lightly over his.
“Girl,” said Darnell, shaking his head. “I just don’t believe it.”
“Believe it!” I said. “It’s happening. I’m not long for this shithole.” I grinned.
“Hey!” said Howie, looking up from his notebook and removing his glasses dramatically.
“Kidding!” I said to Howie, putting my hands up in defense. He smiled at me and returned to his task.
“What do you think?” asked Darnell to Petra. “Your girl here, she leaving us all behind for the big leagues.
“Petra’s coming with me,” I said cautiously. I wasn’t sure how they’d take that. “She’s, uh, writing with me now.”
“Damn,” said Darnell. Then he melted and smiled. “I’m really fucking envious,” he admitted. “But really fucking happy for you too. Macy motherfuckin’ Maxwell!” He lifted his hand up for a high five and I obliged.
“Aw, thanks,” I said. Leaning over, I hugged against Darnell’s side. “I’m really fucking happy, too.”
“So does that mean you’re done with us?” asked Frank. “Kickin’ us to the curb?”
“Of course not,” I said with a smile. But I really wasn’t sure what this new chapter in my life meant. I didn’t know what was going to happen and that was what excited me the most. The possibility. The novelty. The great unknown. I was ready to give my all to this opportunity and I couldn’t be sure what would happen afterwards.
“Just don’t forget where you came from,” said Howie, looking up once again. “From humble beginnings come some great entertainers. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Yes sir!” I said, standing up straight and saluting Howie.
“So are you sticking around tonight?” asked Darnell. “We get to see you perform with some of your new shit?”
“Of course!” I said. “I’m so pumped for doing some of this material that Petra and I have been working on. I think you’re gonna see some jokes tonight that I’ll do on the show. Hope they all land!”
Little did I know that that night would be my last at the Stand Up Affiliate. In my heart, I never wanted to give up on those guys or that place. It was where I’d come from. It was my comedy childhood. And although I had the best intentions to go ba
ck after my big break, it just wouldn’t be. It’s too easy to be swept up in success. Not in a bad way. I don’t mean to imply I got too big for my britches or my ego ran wild or anything like that. It’s just that when you reach certain stages of your career, certain levels on your way to the top, it’s really hard to take a step back. Sometimes there’s no opportunity to step back. You’re booked on bigger stages, other cities, wrangled by other people who want to get a piece of your success. Your agent, your producers, whoever. It happens so quickly that it’s quite difficult to control. And I wasn’t too keen on controlling it anyway. I was just enjoying the ride.
This is the part where Macy Maxwell gets a bit introspective. You can skip it if that’s not your bag. I mean, if I were reading a book about some comedian chick and she turned all sappy on me I’d probably be like, “next!” Flip, flip, flip, let me just find another scene where she fingers that other girl and then maybe she tells a raunchy joke about ingrown pubic hair. But that’s just me. I’m a weirdo, as I’m sure you’re very well aware.
I’ve got so much to be grateful for, it’s really mind-blowing sometimes. I think it’s important sometimes to take a step back, really look at your life, and see how much good stuff you’ve got. Sure, look, my Mom died when I was young and it’s totally messed up. I’m not going to pretend I’m grateful for that tragedy. But even in her death, my Mom shaped me into this badass chick I am today. My humor is her humor, I’m really just a replicant of her. I like to think that she lives on in my humor, in my act, even though I’m doing the lady jokes and my Mom probably wouldn’t have been a very convincing lesbian comic. But I bet I could have written some material for her and she’d do a good job on stage with it.
I’m grateful that I didn’t become totally fucked up by her death. I could have gone a different route. I could have sponged off that trust fund, drank myself bloated, and continued fingerbanging bad girls who were more interested in getting a sniff of my ass than getting a sniff of my heart. Somehow I ended up okay. Comedy saved me in a way. It was a great outlet for my pain, and it always will be. There’s a notion that stand up comics are all damaged in some way and I’m here to tell you that it’s totally true. If you watch your favorite comedian on TV, the one that makes you belly laugh, the one that seems so positive and lighthearted and easygoing and fun. Yeah, they still might be tortured inside. It just comes with the territory. It’s part of what makes us successful. And I know I appreciate my troubles as much as I appreciate my successes.
One of my greatest successes in this journey has been my education in opening up a little bit more and accepting the good. Specifically, that manifested in Petra. Always there for me, yet I constantly spurned her. I knew she liked me and deep down I knew I liked her. But I kept going for chicks I knew were bad for me, chicks like George. It’s self-sabotage, really. Maybe you’ve lived in it your own life. You know you should really doing X, but you do Y instead because you think that’s how things are supposed to be. It’s the same damn thing with my comedy. When I started I thought I could get better traction with straight sex humor, talking about guys like I had any experience with them. And for a while it worked, as it does with these bad relationships. On the outside it’s generally okay. On the inside, however, it’s a mess.
We’re all hiding something. We’re all running from something. If you’re not, well, then I’d like to subscribe to your newsletter because you’ve obviously got a good thing going and I want some of that action. But for those of us who haven’t got it all figured out yet, us normal people who are still trying to figure ourselves out, decade after decade, we sometimes need a reminder that it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to be a nitwit, it’s okay to not have it all figured out. We need to bring to light those things which we’re hiding, the things that define us in private but feel embarrassing in public. I mean, I wasn’t embarrassed by my sexuality but I sure as shit wasn’t sure how well it would play on stage. But people don’t care too hard about strangers like me, standing up on stage, divulging the most personal of personal. They just want to laugh. They just want to be entertained.
All I know, the stuff I’ve learned from this journey, is that you just gotta give it a shot. You can’t let fear dictate your life. You can worry too hard on the possible negatives of any given thing. I mean, hey, do you know how many people want to become stand up comedians? A ton. A buttload. But I threw myself into it, I gave myself up, and it worked out. And while I was certainly frightened to come out as a lesbian on stage — gasp! — even though I wasn’t trying to hide my sexuality in my real life, it turns out that people don’t care to judge you as much as you think they might. If they can laugh about a dick sucking joke, they can laugh about a clit sucking joke. Same premise, different genital.
Petra and I holed up for about a week straight before the trip out to Boston. We worked our asses off on my set, leaving my apartment only once to go to Loonies for a middle set I was scheduled to do and so we could experiment with some material. In between joke writing we’d fool around. I mean, can you blame us? All work and no play makes Macy a dull girl and if I’m not engaging in sexual relations, a good chunk of my stand up prowess wanes. I don’t know what I like more, laughs or orgasms.
That’s not true. I know. It’s laughs. Most definitely laughs.
“I don’t think I could read this line any more,” said Petra, sliding down into my couch, her long legs outstretched from the cushion and bumping into the coffee table. She let her notebook slip out of her hand and tumble down to the floor.
“Okay, okay!” I said. “Break time.” I folded my own notebook closed, placed it on the coffee table, and stood up. I wore my lightweight sleeping shorts and a tank. Lifting my arm up, I smelled my armpit and made a face from the funk. I don’t think I’d showered in two days. “Yeesh,” I remarked to myself.
“Yeah, I can smell you from here,” mused Petra. Her eyes were closed, her glasses pushed up into her hair. How had she even seen me smell my pit? It’s like she knew.
“Well, I can still smell you on my upper lip,” I said, putting my hands on my hips and making a face. A face that she didn’t see. “You know, from—“
“I know,” she said, opening her eyes, looking over at me, and making a blabby talking mouth with her hand. After the tease, she sweetly smiled at me and blew a kiss.
“I still can’t believe this is about to happen,” I said, displaying some uncharacteristic seriousness. “I mean, shit might really change after this.”
“People will know who you are,” said Petra lazily from the couch. Her hand drifted to her belly, fingers creeping under her shirt to give herself a gentle rub. She looked as though she needed a nap. “Maybe you’ll get your own special out of this.”
“I’m still a little worried,” I admitted. “About the material.”
“Dude, it’s funny,” she said. “We’ve been reworking a lot of it, it’s really tight.”
“No,” I said. “I mean, you know… the lesbian thing.”
“I think the mainstream is ready for a lesbian comic,” she said. “And c’mon, Macy, you’re an easy pill to swallow. You’re girly, you’re innocent, you’re raunchy. People are drawn to you.”
“Thanks,” I said sweetly, popping up onto the ball of my foot and feigning purity.
“After all, I mean, there’s Ellen,” said Petra, giving me a ribald look.
“Ugh!” I said, stomping my foot. Petra just laughed at me.
“Macy relax,” she said. “Nobody fucking cares, they just want to laugh. We’re gonna do great.”
“Thanks,” I said, letting the joy show on my face. Petra was right. What was I even fucking on? Ellen. I had nothing to fear and the more I considered it, the more silly I felt. I mean, could I have ignored anyone bigger? Sometimes our minds can be our own worst enemies. They can keep us from doing what needs to be done out of fear. But fear of what? I wasn’t breaking any ground here. I wasn’t anything special. I was just Macy Maxwell, for better or for worse, and
I was ready to be me. It’s all I could be.
All the barroom comedy club gigs in the world couldn’t have prepared me for Boston. The show was filmed at a theatre, the Regal Theatre, an institution in Boston that had been around since, I don’t know, the 20s or so. Before heading backstage to the green room, I had wandered around the theatre to take in the enormity of it. I was used to playing to 100 people max. This theatre had 1000 seats. The air about the place was excitement, conviviality, peppered with just a tinge of drunkenness. They had a warm-up act go on before me, a local girl named Samantha Caldwell, who I actually found quite funny. This was all coming together for me, this was my moment.
And the cameras, oh the cameras. I’d never had an experience like this before and it was destroying my nerves. So I sat back in the green room, Petra by my side — well, actually, she sat on a couch and flipped through a magazine — trying to remain calm, going over my material in my head.
“Don’t open another water,” said Petra absently, still looking at her magazine. “You’re gonna have to piss so bad up there on stage.”
“You’re right,” I said, setting the bottle down on the table in front of the vanity mirror. “That would not be good.”
“You’re gonna do great,” said Petra, eyes popping up, offering me a little smile.
“How are you so cool?” I asked. “A lot of these are your jokes. You should be a little nervous too.”
“Oh, I am,” she admitted. “I’ve read this same sentence here about a hundred times.”
“Man, I don’t even know how I got here anymore,” I moaned. “This is nuts. This is just crazy.”
Petra folded her magazine and sat it next to her on the couch. Both of us were dressed up, way more than either of us usually did. I was in a sparkly gold dress while Petra was in a suit coat, button down shirt, clean dark blue jeans. It all felt very professional, very legit. I felt like I was in a dream. Ugh, so corny, I know. But neither of us ever really got this fancy, I’d never been recorded for TV before, I’d never performed in front of this many people. I had that sinking feeling that I was going to go out on stage and find that I was wearing nothing but an old, stained pair of panties.
Salacious Stand Up: A Funny Lesbian Romance by Nicolette Dane (2016-06-22) Page 16