Showbiz and Shampoo

At age seven, David would sneak into his Mom's closet. Dressing up in her clothes was a slice of heaven in his life of TV and comic books. He loved the feel of satin and lace against his skin. Then the worst thing in his world happened. David was discovered by his mother in a lace nightgown and sparkling slippers. He had forgotten to lock the door and there he was strutting in front of the mirror.

Mom began to weep.
"Davy, what are you doing? Why are you in my clothes?"

"Mom, it's okay. I just wanted to see how it would look."

"Why, honey, don't you want to be a boy?"

"I don't know why I like it but I sure don't want to be a girl."

His parents discussed the possibilities. After all, he was only seven and kids liked to play dress up. He was taken to a therapist, who determined David loved dressing as a female. She had given him psychological tests that determined he was a "normal" male as far as feelings went. His parents could relax.

Today, David looks in the mirror and Divine, his alter ego smiles back. His cosmetic expert, Monique, has earned her sky high salary tonight creating another flamboyant stage presence. The makeup is magnificent.

His eyes are sparkling emeralds with the help of tinted contacts. The glitter on the lids enhanced and the kohl defined. The effect was Elizabeth Taylor in "Cleopatra." Of course, only Liz has marvelous lavender eyes.

"Dahling, are you sure we can't get lavender lenses?"

"You know I have checked all over the globe and none give the effect you would want. Of course, if you want to try yourself."

"I know you look after me and I love you for it."

David pulled a long thin Cuban cigar from his humidor and inhaled the luscious smell before placing it in his mouth. The scene from last night played in his mind.

Miranda was everything he desired in a lover, playful as a kitten, removing her clothing one piece at a time, dangling it in front of him. When he reached out, she pulled back just enough. He had to work for it, finally chasing her naked through the loft. She liked it a little rough, raking her perfectly manicured fingernails down his back. That usually resulted in bloody scratches, a reminder of passion.

After hours of lovemaking, she seemed satisfied. She never uttered the word "love." He had spoken his heart, saying he loved, needed and worshiped her. She was quiet except for the sounds of sex.

It had been her idea that they take a break for a while to sort their feelings. Time had stopped at twelve o'clock the day she boarded the plane. From her it was a quick kiss that said nothing.
All he could do is whisper.
"'Please, don't leave me."

One always seems to love more than the other. He could not have walked away from her, no matter the reason. When he unburdened his heart, Miranda accused him of being "melodramatic."
"Darling, this is why you are such a successful drag queen!"

He considered his sensitivity an asset. Many professional actors had encouraged him to go to auditions for a play. He loved what he did for a living.

Miranda was back now. This morning she had given him her stipulations for their marriage.

"I am willing to forgive you for your fluffy profession. I think you could do so much better. I just can't tell my family about this. They would think that you were homosexual and shun me."

"I don't understand, Miranda. I am happy doing what I do."

"Well, I think you could find something else. You are a talented guy. I am sorry but I hate what you do. What do you think it would do to children we have? Don't you want your family to be proud of you?"

"Of course, I want you to be proud of me. As far as children, I want them to follow their passion. No one should feel ashamed like I did."

"Please, David, it is embarrassing. I want to be the woman in our marriage. You look better than me in a dress. It's come down to this, you have a year to find another line of work."
He had to remind himself show business was only a job. What he truly wanted at thirty-six was a wife that was proud of him and what he did. She had passed her bar exam but wasn't talking about joining a firm. She needed a passion of her own. he would share in her contentment because it was what she wanted. Then they could share the rest; common interests in arts, travel, private time, fabulous restaurants and lively discussions. He wanted commitment, a home and children.

What was Miranda doing all that time in Paris? Was he willing to let her run his life? He was beginning to tire of the whole situation. She had left due to a family "health crisis." Then she called from London to say she was helping with one of Daddy's nonprofit organizations. They had spoken once a week. She was always abrupt on the phone, never gave details.

She seemed to be trying to put a leash on him. He could become her show dog to drag out for a laugh in bed and then push in a closet when it was convenient. Great sex wasn't worth all this and he was having a hard time remembering what else positive she had brought to his life for the last five years.

She said she would be missing the show tonight but would come by after the "weirdos" had left.

The weirdos were his friends and fans. He loved it all. Although he wasn't gay, he knew half the audience was. He loved them and they returned it every performance. There were always roses and underwear at his feet plus door keys and phone numbers. His parents and friends came and laughed in all the right places.

He had learned so much doing Bette, Cher, Madonna, and he was working on Lady Gaga. It was a challenge and he was an artist that made very good money. He had to hit the gym for two hours a day plus voice lessons and the overhead was high but worth every penny. Some woman was out there that would appreciate his talent, humor, romance, and the love he had to give.

This wasn't anything Miranda understood, even superficially.

Tonight, he was dressed in a glitzy sequined multicolored costume. It was a cross between Dolly Parton and Liberace.
The music started.
A tap on the door. He smiled at himself in the mirror. It was "showtime", like Roy Scheider said in "All that Jazz." Showbiz was his drug.

He walked past his team, all genders and lifestyles. They were family. The curtains parted and the applause was deafening. The lighters flickered. David drank it all in.

They shouted his name. They loved his antics, camping it up with gestures, clothes and singing. Imitating the greats, his range was tremendous, from high soprano to a low sexy growl. This wasn't a job. It was life and he would not throw it away for a spoiled little girl.

He walked under the spotlight and signaled the band. He opened with "Gonna wash that Girl right out of my Hair".
He did six different costume changes singing Madonna's "Lucky Star", Cher's
"I Believe", and Bette's show piece "The Rose".
For the Piece de Resistance, David channeled Frank in all his glory, singing "New York, New York".
The closing was "My Way".
David felt like he was flying to the moon, making wishes among the stars, leaving all that tried to drag him down behind.



By Kathie Stehr
Edited June 18, 2010