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slackmistress 3.0

Slackmistress 3.0

Last weekend, I headed out to Vegas with the ever-fabulous Lenora Claire to check out the premiere of the new Cirque show “Love,” based on the Beatles song library. We packed the car with enough luggage and makeup to last us four days instead of thirty hours, and headed northeast.

Five hours in the car is a long time. I remember when A. and I did our first trip to Vegas. We had only known each other three weeks and I was terrified that we’d run out of stuff to talk about. But I was insane about him, and so off we went.

I had only known Lenora briefly, but I adored what I knew, and was looking forward to getting to know her over the trip. We talked about our families and our histories and our friends. At one point I said, you know, I wouldn’t have done this a year ago.

You wouldn’t have done what? she asked.

I wouldn’t have come along on this trip. I would have wanted to, I said, but I would have been too nervous. I still get weird about meeting new people. But the last six months I’ve really been making an effort to do so. To doing more random things. I’ve really been trying to put myself out there, even if I don’t feel totally confident and together.

From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’re successful thus far.

I know, I told her, I am.

I never thought I’d make it to the Other Side of my First Big Breakup in ’99. Some of you who’ve been with me for a long time probably would agree: I was a total mess. But I did, and I was rather pleased with who I was and what I became. I lost sixty pounds. I got my first writing job. I was together. For the first time in my life, I liked myself.

The process wasn’t immediate; it took two years. In 2001 I wrote

I've come too far to feel like this. I've decided that I refuse to feel this way anymore.

I refuse to be sad
I refuse to be worried
I refuse to be self-conscious
I refuse to be nervous
I refuse to be scared.


With A. and I, I saw the writing on the wall before we left for Bora-Bora. I saw the writing on the wall but I didn’t want to read it. I wanted to act like a two year old, squeezing my eyes shut and plugging my ears, singing lalalalalaIcan’thearyou. Because we fit. He was my other half. We worked so well together.

Except that we stopped working so well. Something was fundamentally broken, and it couldn’t be repaired with the weight of both of us there. I knew on the day that I handed him the keys to Casa Mysterioso – the house I helped make a home – that it was time for the next evolution.

That’s not to say that I wasn’t a big freaking mess. I spent many nights collapsing on the floor weeping, wondering how I had gotten here – 25 pounds heavier, unemployed, renting a house I could barely afford and a computer that worked only half of the time. I sat on my deck with Daisy and thought what’s next?

I looked back on those slack articles; I re-read my own personal breakup story, trying to gain some insight. I was once again afraid. I was once again confused. I once again hadn’t a clue what the future held. I remember one night, just thinking fuckit. I was ready to turn a corner. My 33 year-old self finally understood something that my 28-year old self didn’t.

It’s okay to be sad
It’s okay to be worried
It’s okay to be self-conscious
It’s okay to be nervous
It’s okay to be scared.

What’s not okay is to let any of that hold you back from what you want to do.

I did something I never thought I’d do after that: I posted a photo of myself – a recognizable, full-face photo – of me on the slack. And my MySpace. I had always cited the idea of privacy and possible stalker issues for not posting a photo. The true reason was that I thought readers were more excited about the idea of me than the reality of me, but I no longer wanted to separate the two.

I put myself out there in real life, too. I posted an online personal ad. I joined Consumating. I invited friends over – people who I had known online but never met in meatspace. I accepted invitations to parties where I’d only know the host. I met people for drinks. I started answering my phone.

I sat in the car thinking about all the people I’ve met in the past six months, some turning out to be lovers, some turning out to be friends, but all of them assisting me in my quest to move forward, to put myself out there, to start participating in my life. Sure, I’m still 25 pounds heavier, unemployed, renting a house I can barely afford and have a computer that works only half of the time.

But that’s just stuff. I’ll deal with the weight issue (which honestly hasn’t been a problem in my dating life one bit). I’m pitching new shows. I have new ideas for the slack. I’ll move if I have to. And maybe I’ll just suck it up and buy a macbook. It’s stuff that I can fix, stuff that I’m trying to fix, stuff that shouldn’t prevent me from doing whatever it is that I want to do.

My life is daunting. But it's also intoxicating. I have some choice in what happens to me, but some of the choices I have no control over at all. And it’s all good. Or at least it will be.

I can take over the Universe. Because I am slackmistress 3.0.