Forget beer goggles. Show goggles are ten times worse.
Much like subletting in Harlem, waiting in line on West 37th Street at 7 a.m., or restarting the South Beach diet (again), "showmances" are an inevitable part of an actor's life.
My first love was a classic showmance.
Carl Potaskey. We met during summer stock in Indiana. He was totally wrong for me: He had unruly curly hair; I like a buzz cut. His voice was high-pitched; I like a deep, manly voice. Worse, he was either too dim-witted or lazy to memorize his lines and learn his cues; I was off-book before rehearsals began.
Still, the thrill of performing and rehearsing all the time -- especially while on tour through small towns where options are limited -- blurs the line between what's a convenient relationship and what's a meaningful one.
Despite his faults, I convinced myself that Potaskey's hair really didn't resemble Ronald McDonald's. That his gorgeous tenor more than made up for his "Lizzie McGuire" voice. And that when he stumbled through his lines, it was really because he was trying to add nuance to his interpretation of "Pharaoh Story."
At least for the length of the run.
Standing with a few hopefuls outside the "Great American Trailer Park Musical" audition recently, I casually mentioned "showmancing." A redhead in tap shorts immediately perked up.
She recalled a regional run of "Jesus Christ Superstar." The actor playing Jesus apparently really grasped the concept of loving all of God's creatures -- and definitely wanted to do unto others.
"The first day of rehearsal he hooked up with the disciple John," she said. "A week later, he worked his way to Thomas." In a matter of a few weeks, he'd slept with every disciple... except Peter (who was straight and had a girlfriend). His nocturnal activities bred a certain amount of discontent.
"By closing night, we were all on Judas' side," she recalled.
Another girl added that musicals are usually worse than straight plays -- especially on tour -- because of the heavy contingent of dancers. "I mean, they all sleep with each other in New York. Why wouldn't they do it on the road?"
She explained: First, it's usually a big cast. Second, everyone's in phenomenal shape and working out together every day -- leaping, kicking, contorting, all layered in sweat. Temperatures are bound to rise.
"There's a sexuality present in a cast doing 'Hair' that you're just not gonna find with a cast of five doing Ibsen." But it's not always as good as it sounds.
"If you connect with one person, that's one thing. But when an entire cast is sleeping with each other -- that's just foul," said John, while wrapping his shin splints.
My friend Hyena doesn't see anything wrong with it. "Why not be a working actor and get laid at the same time?" she said, triple latte in hand. She recalled one incident in particular: "Although my showmance fell in love with me and wanted to move in -- which was awkward -- the sex was fantastic."
But, she added, showmancing does have drawbacks.
"You can't confuse feelings. Like being attracted to someone because of their talent, or mistaking the characters' feelings for your own. Just because Julie Jordan loves Billy Bigelow doesn't mean you have to."
Especially since, eventually, the show ends. Priorities change, and people aren't running backstage and furiously ripping each other's clothes off anymore. Suddenly, you're both out of work, you're not performing -- and you sober up quick.
However, a young blonde offered what I believe is the main reason people showmance time after time: "Sometimes it can work."
Like that urban legend of overnight success, it's the second most popular performer myth: Showmances can work, and continue to work, long after a show is over -- including marriage, children, and even matching Tonys on the mantel.
There are real-life examples. Charlotte d'Amboise and Terrence Mann have two children together. Marin Mazzie and Jason Danieley perform duet concerts at Lincoln Center. Sutton Foster got to star alongside boyfriend Christian Borle at the end of her run in "Thoroughly Modern Millie."
For Broadway stars, a successful showmance is yet more proof that you can "have it all." Because, really, what's better than getting to star alongside your significant other? (Besides, once you land a Broadway show, when would you otherwise have time to see them?)
Showmances aren't the only route to romance. You're just as likely to meet 'the one' while doing "Meet Me in St. Louis" in Buffalo as you are singing karaoke after a few rum-and-cokes in the East Village.
Showmances are like one-night stands: Most of us have had at least one. (Some have them chronically.) But all agree that, as a rule, they don't work long-term. More often than not, Tom Sawyer kicks Huck Finn off the raft, Liesel lets Rolf go with the Nazis, and Beauty dumps the Beast for an investment banker.
On the bright side, showmances provide us with great emotional material to draw from on stage, in acting class, and at auditions. Also, they help us to identify real friends: The ones who help pick up the inevitable wreckage.
But friends should serve another function: Reminding you to cut off a potential bad showmance before it happens. It's about support. Friends don't let friends drive drunk, and friends shouldn't let friends showmance... badly.
Be each other's voice of reason. Make sure to ask your friend Sheryl questions like, "Does this guy have any qualities you admire besides availability... and/or talent?" If not, make sure she possesses the one sure-fire tool that every young, romantically-minded actress needs: a vibrator.