SEX & LIFESTYLE: You Think You’re Good at Edging? This Understudy Went the Entire Production Without Performing

by Matt Keeley. @reallymattkeeley.

Whoa there, Tiger! You call yourself an Edging all-star? Don’t make me laugh. You may think you’ve mastered the sublime art of climactic deprivation, but that’s nothing compared to this actor who was contracted as an understudy and went the entire run without going on. 

That’s right, they were hired to learn a principal cast member’s track: lines, blocking, costume changes, and those goddamn scene transitions, without so much as having the dignity of a single performance. Night after night, they would endure the agonizing wait for the stage manager’s inevitable all-clear. Eight shows a week. Always ready, yet never allowed.

But you’ve learned how to crank it for more than twenty minutes and you think you’re some kind of Sting? Puh-lease. We didn’t even MENTION needing to set aside time to attend brush-up rehearsals each week. A fully-costumed and performed run of the show, mind you, that friends or family could watch if they were allowed. Which they weren’t. Oh no.

Oh, you can last for hours? Save it for your little goon cave, amateur. Need I remind you that this understudy–who has an MFA, by the way–was contractually obligated to be available up until the last minute in case they were needed? Yeah. That means bye bye to other bookings in the meantime. But hey, there’s always the chance they’d get to perform. Until there’s not.

Picture it: You get the call that your track’s actor is feeling unwell and might need to step out for the night. This is your chance.

Boom: the stage manager emails you there’s a put-in rehearsal before the show. It’s finally going to happen. You spend the day running through the entire play twice to make absolutely sure you’re ready, WHICH YOU ARE!

The sensations are overwhelming bliss. Pickups nailed perfectly, the connection with the main cast is flawless, and each actor’s energy in the space screams in orgiastic synchronicity that you’ve been meaning to be here. You have been the missing piece. YOU are one with all that is and has ever been present and in the moment. 

And then stage management lets you know that your principal actor will be going on after all. You see the ensemble go about their business as usual while you feign relief that they’re all right. Dismissed for the night, and left with your proverbial dick in your hand.

That. Is what it’s like. 

And don’t you even start to think you know what it’s like Swinging!