My Real Memoir
I’d found “the One,” and then lost her. Twice. By which I mean I’d fallen in love with my high school sweetheart, then told her I wasn’t sure I still loved her, then decided I still did, then been dumped by her. And, since that formula had worked so well, I’d repeated it with my college sweetheart.
But now, I was older and wiser. Ish. It was the 70s, when “happily ever after” had given way to happily one after another. I had a stone-cold fox of a girlfriend who was all mine, except when she was somebody else’s. I could “get down” with that. Sort of. Yet a persistent voice in my heart kept whispering, “Still, if you finally found a Bigger Love, the real One, well, that would change everything.
Meanwhile, my new school of the arts was bubbling with activity. And a lot of those bubbles contained girls. At one point, I was dating three dancers named Debbie. I was also desperate to do something creative. So I tried casting a new version of my street theatre group The Right Pithee Players. But the Pithees, Part Deux didn’t last. Neither did the dancing Debbies.
I was dateless and show-less. So I let a Chamber Choir, the national touring group Up With People, and a fast-growing theatre company South Coast Repertory (SCR) use our studio. SCR had snagged the rights to the regional premiere of Godspell, a show I’d been desperate to do ever since seeing the movie version.
The minute our studio was available again, I held auditions for The Fantasticks, the winsome little musical that had influenced my own writing and directing debut in college. Our production, the first full-length show I’d ever directed, glittered like a music box.
I booked my non-existent Right Pithee Players to perform at the upcoming Newport Beach Arts Festival, then hurriedly assembled Pithees 3. Chris, a holdover from Pithees 2, and newly-graduated high school thespians Gail and Mary stuck like glue. (Years later, Gail would return to Newport Harbor High as their much-loved drama teacher.)
A third girl attended our first rehearsal. Katherine “Kat” was Gail and Mary’s mutual BFF. An artist who preferred painting scenery to acting in front of it, Kat was the most beautiful techie I’d ever seen. Her hair was a sunlit waterfall, her eyes impossibly turquoise, her upper lip a teasing arch. During our break, she strummed my guitar and talked, sprinkling in a soupçon of sarcasm. I like that in a woman.
After our third rehearsal, I hesitantly asked Kat out. “Sure, OK,” she replied coolly. But as she left, forgetting our dance studio had mirrors all-round, she pumped her fist and whooped, “Yes!” to Gail and Mary.
For our first date, I took her to see Godspell at SCR, and told her how, just like tonight, when they’d rehearsed the show at our studio, “for some weird reason” I’d cried. She smiled and kissed me. And, oh, that arched lip.
We kissed as passionately as any couple standing under the hundred-watt porchlight of the girl’s parent’s house possibly could. I told her I wanted to see her again “right away.” She said, “Good,” and just before closing the door, added, “I’ll be clawing the bedposts.” And as I left her house, I wondered if I’d finally found…
A Bigger Love.
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
The other day, I was sitting with a bunch of 4th graders and one of them said to the other, “Try to Remember.” I broke out into a rendition of The Fantasticks song, “Try to Remember.” They looked at me like I was crazy and I then tried to describe the play to them. I love your reminiscences, Mitch. They take me back to my impetuous youth. Thank you!.
My pleasure, Joanne. Truly.
You’ve certainly been involved with a lot of “hot” girls in your youth. I recall only one you mentioned in a previous memoir that was not. From the picture you’re painting, I take it you were a babe magnet. 🙂
Well, duh, just look at me, Nancy. ;>)
Your heart must have taken quite a beating through all these relationships that ran hot, then cold. Or maybe by this time you’d created some armor around it.
Well…
Ha! What’s important is-does your wife think you are?
If you catch her at the right moment.
I’ve lost count. There’s more girls in these memoirs than I have fingers.
And I’ve left more out than I’ve included. Told you I was girl-crazy. And it all began with a skinned elbow.
“Happily one after another…” Mitch, I couldn’t stop giggling. Yep. LOL
“For some weird reason” I’d cried. That heart was feeling something BIG for sure!!! And I have a sneaky suspicion it wasn’t about the girl. 🙂
I suspect you’re right, Karla. <3
🥰❣️
Wow, Mitch! You were hot stuff yourself it seems! I love your memoirs. Please keep sharing them 😊🙏
Um, well, I tend not to write about the woman who said, “No thanks, I’m doing my laundry that night.” So, sure, I’ll keep sharing about the ones who said yes, Sally. ;>)
I think I’ll be hearing the words, “dancing Debbies” in my mind all day, Mitch! LOL Cher xoxoxo
The perfect name for an 80’s new wave band, right, Cher? ;>)
The quintessential 80’s new wave band name, Mitch! *biggest grin I can muster – you know, like 80’s big hair, but no.* 😉 Cher xoxoxo
;>) <3
Pebbles in the pond? Big fish? 😂
Enjoying your memoirs!
Thanks, Pete!
Can’t comment on this one either!
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