General description: this is a man who lives with the awareness that he is passionately attracted to other men. He lives in fear of it being recognized and struggles to hide what his father described as "girly behavior."
Attitudes/behaviors for scene: talkative, anxious, a bit silly and goes to talkative, defensive, anxious.
Scene 1. Setting/Circumstances: They've been married for 6 months. Tonight, they're having dinner. Opening line (her): Wow -- that cocktail really went to your head.
Scene 2. Setting/Circumstances: It's two years later. They are having coffee after their first visit to a marriage councilor. Open line (him/me): I can't believe he asked us to talk about our sex life.
JZ's notes: General description makes the attitude/behavior change dramatic. Make positive choices for what I want from the other. Find where he's most vulnerable.
My pre-improv notes:
- (keep in mind what I want) and listen, breathe, respond
- what do I want from the other -- make her give me something
- if my attitudes/behavior are against my natural inclinations, try overshooting the type, error on the side of being too much
- listen to how she's feeling, not what she's saying: breathe in what she's feeling, let it hit me, and then throw it back as hard if not harder
Results -- see 09 . 22 . 2005 entry
Post-scene homework for next week -- Answer these questions: for scene 1 -- why did I marry her? What happened the first 6 months? Any fears? For scene 2 -- how do I feel now? What's changed? What frightens you?
Ok -- let's explore here, using the given circumstances, from the inside out:
Why is he drinking? Apparently I can convincingly play someone who's pretty buzzed (I've had plenty of pleasant experiences with that) -- however, can't ignore the why: he drinks to release inhibitions, to be more himself, to be real, so show her what he's really feeling. He desires being free, giving flight to his fantasies, desires, and . . . he doesn't want to hide. I think at this stage he's on the cusp of awareness of what he really wants, who he really is. That must be scary. To admit that to yourself. You just married someone, and you're ... gay?!
He notices other men, he feels hot with fear and anxiety <NOTE: sense memory: when I've been worried, very scared of something going wrong, something bad happening, I can feel this in my face, my chest, what this fear and worry must be like>. Worried, scared all this time -- it's a relief to drink at bit . . . to feel . . . ok . . . for a time, or at least not worried about myself, what's happening.
My father -- a man's man, of course. Christ, he'd KILL me if he knew I felt this way. He remembers being scared in school, other boys making fun of him, hitting him, pushing him. Early on, feeling fear that there was something wrong with him, he was so different (and inside, he felt a million million miles away from the other boys -- they spoke English, but they might as well have been an alien species from another planet, and not a very nice species at that).
<Trying to empathize with an imaginary person -- it's getting harder now. Trying to feel the thread between this and ... girls, women>
Girls were nice. They didn't seem to notice or care about how different he seemed. They were his only real friends. And he loved them as close, close friends. He wasn't lonely with them. His wife -- he loves her so much. He doesn't want to hurt her. He loves her very much and doesn't want that. He's afraid of that. Afraid she'll leave. He's afraid of what he wants. He's afraid of losing everything.
<Fascinating. Last week, before writing any of this, after the improv, JZ made special note of the instant "friendship" that had developed between P and myself. I noticed that too -- almost immediately, we were more friends than passionate lovers . . .I must intuitively sensed that this had to be their relationship, and that's how I really felt towards P during the improv>
Why did I marry her? She loved me. She was happy with what I could give her, and I thought that what I was giving her, romantically, sexually, was . . . the way it was suppose to be, and that everything would be alright . . . would be . . .
What happened the first 6 months? . . . would be alright . . . were we really happy? Something seemed to be missing. I tired hard to make it up for her, romantic dinners, movies, taking about about buying a home, children -- and growing increasingly worried that I was trying to make it up for me. I'm confused -- is it her that's unhappy . . . or is it me? I'm getting worried. What if it's not going to work . . . that hot, burning heart-pounding worry again.<feel it in my face, my chest, that sense of impeding doom>
<Enough for now. Interesting -- I'm mostly using the second person ("he") rather and "I" when talking about him. Empathy. If I force using "I," the connect with him goes away, at least partly, at least right now, because if I step back, then I see he really isn't me. I think this is a way to keep my focus on him, to start to feel like him. However, in this imaginative exercise, parts of "me" are activated My imagination seems to be intersecting with personal parts of myself . . .>
Scene 2. Open line (him/me): I can't believe he asked us to talk about our sex life.
Question: How do I feel now? <Intuitively, the first improv, I deliberately played against my first response to this line, i.e., to be angry, outraged. Instead, I deliberately kept it light, as if I was amused -- NOT threatened -- by the question, and I remember turning to P for confirmation that she wasn't really taking all this so seriously -- I was wrong. The power of opposites. >
P forces the issue -- she's not happy. Do I surrender -- or do I fight. I don't (directly) fight her. What I am fighting for? A dream . . . my perfect life, passionate wild growing romantic love with a man. It's who I am, where I belong, where I've always been. I want to come home, after so long, I want/need to come home. It's where life is. It's where I am. I feel a strong need to be brave, to fight. If I don't, I'll die, and she'll die, emotionally, spiritually.
Question:What's changed? Why am a willing to fight now? I've finally admitted how and why I love her -- she was, IS, my best friend, but I'm not in love with my best friend, and it's not fair. Everything I've tried to make myself fall in love with her has failed. What's changed is that I don't want that fight anymore, and now I see my real dream ...
Question: What frightens me? I'm afraid of losing my best friend, someone I know who would never hurt or abandon me -- and I'm going to hurt and abandon her. I'm afraid I'll have nothing, in the end. I'm afraid to take a chance.
So what do I want in scene 1? The original fight -- I need to convince her, convince me, that nothing is wrong, everything is fine (he goes from : talkative, anxious, a bit silly and goes to talkative, defensive, anxious). How do I do this? Perhaps this is why he's drinking -- not to be who he truly is, but to be/do what he's not: Romance her right then and there, make her swoon, drive any doubts from her mind . . . and heart (remember, he goes from : talkative, anxious, a bit silly and goes to talkative, defensive, anxious). This suggests he isn't convincing to her. <Idea: pretend it's a guy I've convinced myself I've got to romance, a big hairy gay guy. Let my moments of doubt, of not wanting this, sneak in, any feelings of discomfort, let them grow. These are my obstacles. Fight them -- overdo the romance, overcompensate>.
What do I want in scene 2? <DON'T BE LOGICAL!!! NEVER!!!!!! BE LOGICAL!> What do I want? JZ didn't give (that I remember) beginning and end attitudes and behaviors, so it's hard to know. I don't think it should be resolution -- in fact, a good act II would be a pretty serious crisis where things get out of hand -- his worse fears realized.
OK -- let's see if all this homework helps . . .
