When I was a young college girl attending theatre school, I was not the fabulous and ultra savvy Hollywood Assistant you see before you. I was awkward, shy and one of three burgeoning thespians that didn't want to be an actress. I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to be cool enough to capture the attention of these gregarious classmates of mine for longer than two seconds of discussion period in which any personal opinions I had of Bertolt Brecht were very soon overshadowed by someone else's deep connection with the reading material. I thought, out of every student at that school, I was the most forgettable.
I changed my major two years into it, but before I did, I got to see some good, solid, provocative college theatre, including a performance of Equus by Peter Shaffer. The play itself has been getting a lot of press recently because Harry Potter shows his unmentionables on stage with a horse for the performances of it in London and now Broadway. The nudity is a required part of every performance of Equus, or at least it should be, and my college's staging of the show was no exception. There are two things I remember about the show: 1) there were these amazing horse masks that were welded out of iron, and 2) the star of the show's penis.
OK, that makes me sound pretty pervy, especially since there wasn't really anything remarkable about his penis. The star was attractive, yes. But I guess I hadn't really seen a lot of penis back then, so this very public unveiling of penis was particularly memorable.
Flash forward to yesterday. I'm at the Target in West Hollywood, picking up some toilet paper and a pot and some new shoes when I hear someone call my name. I turn around and it's the guy! The guy whose penis I will always remember!
But wait a minute... How did he even know my name? Like I'd mentioned earlier, I envisioned myself as this ugly duckling of the theatre school, always on the perifery of the social scene. I can't remember one moment in which I made an impression on anybody.
I tried to play down how flattered I was that he'd remembered me and that he felt inclined enough to even call out to me while I passed him at a department store. My high pitched "Heeeeeyyyy!" is pretty hard to downplay.
"How are you!" I exclaimed. "It's been years!"
"Has it?" he asked thoughtfully. "Ah, yes. I suppose it has."
"What are you up to? Are you still acting?" I inadvertently remembered seeing him get naked on stage. I had to try hard not to literally shake the memory out of my head while I talked to him.
"Ah, well, it's been REALLY slow, you know, because of the strike coming up and everything. But yeah. What about you? You still acting?"
I laughed to myself, satisfied that I was, in fact, as unmemorable as I thought. "Oh no, I never wanted to be an actor. I wanted to write. So I'm doing that, but you know... not professionally or anything, you know, just workin..." Shit. Shit. Shit. I've said too much. Damn it.
"Where are you living now?" He didn't see me kicking myself. Good.
"I'm in Hollywood, you know that little residential area near the canyon. You?"
"Ah, I'm in Silverlake. You know, it's good, just too many chopped haircuts for me."
"You know, it's funny, I just got my haircut today and I was going to go to a barbershop in Silverlake, but I thought I wasn't ready to jump into the whole hipster look thing, so I went someplace else and got some bangs." Why can't I just shut up?
"Ah, well. They're very pretty. You look very well." There was a pause as he gave me a sort of charming side smile. "Are you on facebook?" he asked.
"YEAH! You should come find me on facebook!"
"Yeah, I'll find you on facebook. See ya."
I breathed a sigh of relief, but only to myself, as there were other Target shoppers about and I didn't want them seeing how flustered I'd just become. And also, I hoped they couldn't recognize how big of an asshole I am since I couldn't remember the guy's full name. I was too busy thinking to myself, "I've seen your penis!"