AKA William

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Because the old school gay is fast becoming the new modern man, AKA William theater contributor Ben Rimalower will, every Thursday, document exactly how, when, and where everything old becomes new again.

Straddling the line between old school showbiz cheesiness and contemporary short attention span whateverness, Ben is the New Old Gay. He loves Patti LuPone.

It’s in my nature to please. I like people to like me. I think there are many different me’s that come out when appropriate, or sometimes, when not. I think in many ways, that can be a good thing, enabling me to get along with all sorts of people and feel at home in all kinds of situations. Sometimes, though, it feels like I’m all over the place being all these different people, based on wanting to be liked or appreciated or respected or desired or admired or loved, by friends, co-workers, colleagues, guys, family, etc.

But there’s a fine line between schizophrenic and multi-faceted, between two-faced and versatile.

I remember an actress I was directing remarking that there were two different me’s – the focused “together” one in rehearsal and the drunk, crazy gay guy. (Thank you, I think…) And my best friend Marissa has always talked about her favorite me, being in my plain white t-shirt sitting on the floor, in that weird way I’ve always sat (since I was a little kid playing on the street) with legs folded underneath me and out to the sides, while I work diligently connecting cable or stereo equipment – a skill she, is for some reason, tickled pink I possess. Listen, girls, I like being that focused person too, but Momma needs her rest! Otherwise I get rundown, sick. Like this past week.

I guess it started last weekendish. Once the weather cooled down enough for me to turn off the A/C, I was sleeping with the windows open. I don’t know if it’s the construction or just general Bedford Avenue traffic, but I began waking up with an increasingly dry throat and needing more than my usual allergy-treating/borderline-recreational Sudafed dose, just to feel like myself.

Marissa always makes fun of me if I complain about being congested, “You’re always congested.” But I guess there’s a level that I’m just used to. People scoff if I say that I’m hoarse with a sore throat, “That’s how you always sound, Ben.” There are, to me, clear differences between the natural sound of my voice, my temporary (this 2-year period) voice as a smoker, and my current state as a sicky.

Also last Friday, I was out literally all night – it was Jeffery and Cole’s closing night at Joe’s Pub and I partied like it was 1999, like literally as if I were still 23 (which would make me only a few months older than they are…)