Theatre of the absurd

At the time it seemed like a good idea. Thrilling and daring and, in some frightening way, a step in the right direction.

We waited in line and got the tickets together. Four tickets, two sets of two, each set far from the other.

I ended up going alone. I just couldn't find the right person to take on this kind of adventure. I don't think that there are guidelines written by Miss Manners or Martha Stewart for who to take to a play that your lover and his wife are also attending.

It's embarrassing to think about now. I've been trying to think about it, to write about it, for a couple of months now and the embarrassment is so acute even now, over 5 years later, that I can't dwell on it for even a full minute.

I remember spending most of the play trying to find them without looking like I was looking. I don't remember when I located them, but I must have, because as everyone filed out of the theatre I maneuvered myself to follow them.

Oddly I don't remember what they looked like or what they were talking about. I just remember me. I was wearing tight fitting brown peg leg pants from the Gap and a brown shirt and ankle boots and was carrying a straw purse that I'd inherited from a dancer friend. I felt tall (as tall as I can be) and long legged and sexy. Well, I felt as though I was projecting that and that's what was important. It was important that when he looked at me he wished he were sitting with me instead of with her. Even if he didn't change seats. That he should feel as dissatisfied in the moment as I.

The whole evening was dissatisfying. I go to theatre and movies and stores and countries by myself all the time. Most of the time. That night was the same. I was alone. I was watching someone who didn't, at least then, and probably not now either, do much of anything all alone. I was just an observer in what is labelled an adult relationship. I didn't learn anything more about him or her or them. I didn't get anything out of it.

I have no idea, really, what I was supposed to get out of it. It was my idea to go to the play, his to do it this way. I'm sure he had a good reason. At least one that seemed good at the time. He always does. I'll be damned if I can remember it though.

All I can remember is walking through the edges of Central Park in a crowd waiting to be noticed.

And I wasn't.