At The Barricade

(Warning: this is deeply personal and it may get deleted, so, please be kind)

I never thought the day would come when I could write this, but, here we are.... Yikes. 

For a long time, I was in love with a barricade boy (an actor in Les Mis on the West End for those of y'all who don't speak stagey), and, for the first time I can say that today, today I am not in love with him. Do I love, adore and care for him? Absolutely. Do I want to be in a romantic relationship with him? Nope. THIS IS HUGE Y'ALL.

Barricade boys (and girls) (he's in this picture but only I know where)

What he and I did have was exceedingly special--when it wasn't a hot mess, that is. He was truly the first man in my life to "get" me. I was 100% myself with him from day one and we just fit. We understood each other. I am not sure if I fell in with him, London, Les Mis, or all three at once, but, suddenly, he was my barricade boy. I was his, he was mine--completely. My swing, Brujon and occasional Feuilly. My Lovely Lady. Later, my gangster with a bad New York accent running political schemes. And then he was nothing. He was no longer mine in Jesus Christ Superstar, nor in workshops for upcoming tours in Spain--nothing-- we didn't belong to one another any longer. 

Even after heartbreak, I kept returning to him, unable to give up what we had and what I hoped we could have (that's a whole other story, but, in the end, for the heartache our staying connected caused, I'm glad I was so dumb because it's been a blessing). I don't doubt that he did love me, and I don't doubt that we are perfect for each other, but, our love wasn't and isn't perfect, and that's why we can't work.

I made a poor life choice and saw him when I was in London a week ago--after numerous fights and arguments I might add--when we showed up at the (stagey jazz) bar to see him, Molly had to smack me because I was shaking and crying. He is in a relationship, and I am kinda sorta maybe seeing someone (don't even get me started--why can't men just commit and accept that I'm his damn girlfriend? I mean, who doesn't want me to be their girlfriend?!), I had no intentions of kissing my Jasper Bloom (thanks, TPG), I just wanted to see the man who holds my heart and finally take it back. But, standing there outside The Phoenix Theatre I wasn't sure I could do it. Molly held my hand and led me into the bar, where, thank god, she saw him first. 

And wouldn't ya know it, I walked in, saw him, and felt NOTHING?! No, really, nothing. 

We had the best night catching up with the old Les Mis lot, chatting with his flatmate, busting into Tommy Steele songs, and eventually hand jiving at 2am ("I just wasted an hour of my life watching something I've seen you do, mate!") I haven't laughed so hard since I don't remember when. We then all headed to Balan's for breakfast at 3am wherein BB stole Jay and Roisin's bags so they'd be forced to join us even though we're pretty sure they just wanted "lovely cuddles" which means Roisin would have owed everyone doughnuts the next morning. We cheers-ed to Molly and her graduate school acceptance, we laughed over his inability to drink vodka and inappropriate drink names that he ordered for his friends. 

He harassed me about not seeing his show yet; noticed my nose ring within seconds and poked me in the face most of the night saying "I can't believe you've done and gotten your nose pierced!", we laughed over Les Mis stalkers, and sparkle shoes for Priscilla. And, because we are fabulous friends, made him pay since he's making double at the moment. (and that's why I told Molly to order herself the expensive champagne--Jay didn't understand how we are friends, ha!)

We hugged many times--he is the best hugger--FYI if any of y'all catch him on tour, get a hug, you won't regret it. And also, he will murder me for saying that. Just tell me and I'll send him a peace offering of Twizzlers. 

It was just like it's always been. Our hugs were the same, our jokes the same. He was the same funny, strong willed goofball I fell in love with. He said things to me that made me cry--things that I will hold in my heart forever. 

I saw him in his how the next night and laughed and cried. I am always so proud of him and I loved seeing him show his amazing dance prowess (even if his voice was not highlighted at all), we held hands and walked back to my hotel talking about old times, and when I'm coming back to see him in Priscilla--which y'all know is going to happen!

We call this, "find Scotty, him, Fra and Jay!". This makes me giggle because I've met or know so many here through him

We laughed over Sondheim DVD's ("Sing Johanna for me, mate!" "'they're retreating!'--I feeeeeel you, Johannnna"--Molly, I can't even think of Sweeney without hysterical laughter), and my love of The Great Race--mostly Jack Lemmon. 

There was talk of Skype dates and we shook on it. A promise to text when I got on the plane the next morning, another hug and we said our goodbyes. And I was deliriously happy. Not because we are together, not because we will ever be together, but because I had time with someone I hold so dear--time for us just like it was--time to laugh with his lot again, and time to be myself. 

Molly said she knew in an instant I would be ok because she saw he and I for who we were--that we are comfortable with each other and that we fit as friends. Which is how we started! 

We've found a way we can be involved in each others lives and maintain the friendship I have so desperately missed. (seriously, he's the only person who's more of a stage geek than me)

So, I've  come back from London with a healed heart, a happy heart. I've reclaimed my city, I've reclaimed my musical, I've reclaimed my heart, and I've regained one of my best friends. 

Well played, London, well played. 

(oh, and I also take solace in the fact that he told me several times how beautiful and or "svelte"--love the Brits--I looked, and he maybe kinda sorta is not as ripped and in shape as he once was. teehee, I win!)

(photos via Les Mis.com)