'The Nutcracker' and the Sex Tape

I was working behind the scenes of a “The Nutcracker” production that was performed at a school in Tacoma, Wash., Where my daughter atte...


I was working behind the scenes of a “The Nutcracker” production that was performed at a school in Tacoma, Wash., Where my daughter attends kindergarten. As the company was using the school’s theater, they invited the Kindergarten ballet class to play Mother Ginger’s children.

What an opportunity; I was happy. But now that it was happening, it was chaos: 5 year old girls had passed bedtime, collapsed backstage, looted my daughter’s fruit snacks. Fortunately, someone thought of putting “Frozen”.

The little ballerinas gathered around the TV, some sneezing and coughing through their masks. My daughter, Cassie, was glued to the screen. You could tell she was the only child who hadn’t seen him. We resisted because she is sensitive to films and sometimes has nightmares.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. Ross, his father, came too. He couldn’t enter the auditorium because he didn’t have his vaccination card, so we were there in the gym like complete strangers; the man I met in Nashville, full of sarcasm. The man who cried with me when, a month into our relationship, we found ourselves unexpectedly pregnant. The man who stroked my hair in the delivery room. The man who showed our daughter her first sunset. The man who lost his job when his business was sold. The man who tried his best but just couldn’t love me, I guess.

Now we are sharing this girl. She’s a little chef. She remains calm, strong and positive. But she’s also hilarious. And kind. And flexible. She likes to be the boss. And so much the better for her.

Ross sat down with other fathers to discuss football. And I sat down with Cassie watching “Frozen”. Sometimes I wish Ross and I could make it work, but we were both too stubborn. We both wanted to be the boss. I’m hot (in the mood) and he’s cold. I thought I could melt it. I think I did, for a while. But he is stable and responsible. In a way, the combination of us made it. And I wouldn’t change a thing. When she asks why we’re not married I say I think her dad and I met because she was supposed to be born.

After what seemed like an eternity, the crew told the girls to line up for their grand entrance. Ross was walking backstage with Cassie so I could watch from the audience. It was so exciting and adorable to see them come out of the giant peppermint and do their little dance. Cass was so tall, delicate and graceful.

Of course, they all forgot about the movements and a little boy stood right in the middle of the stage, stunned, as a girl tried to exit the stage to join her mother.

The public ate ​​it. Afterwards, Cassie would go home with Ross. I was also planning on driving home, but I felt restless, adrenaline pumping, knowing that Jay, my music agent, was always nearby, his hotel room only six minutes away. I couldn’t pass up the chance to be held back once more. I told him I would meet him at the hotel bar.

We’ve been doing this for two years since Ross and I broke up. Somewhere in all the complicity of our work, we had fallen in love. There have been ups and downs, between the pandemic (because who needs agents when there are no concerts?) And his temperament and mine. We’ve been kind of a hot mess. But the summits have been magical.

He had booked me to open for Pat Benatar and Andrew McMahon at some of the first drive-in shows this country has ever had. He had believed in me, a single mother, and in my music. Or maybe he just wanted to sleep with me. Well, that didn’t bother me either.

But I can’t help but wonder: If Jay hadn’t come when I was so lonely, could Ross and I have made it work? The thought tortures me. But maybe we were broken long before that.

The weekends with Jay, tidied up in hotels and dined in good restaurants, were a joy. When you’re a broke single mom, it’s no small feat. And there was more. We would talk. Everyday. Most of the day. I would tell him everything. He knows Cassie. He makes her laugh because he’s like a big kid himself. But then, inevitably, it flakes off and disappears. Sometimes for a weekend. Sometimes a month. And all the magic turns into war. I don’t even tell my friends about him anymore. They don’t want to hear it.

But the weekend before the performance of “The Nutcracker”, we were in for a good fate. I cook up an income from three jobs and only have Friday off, so he came on Thursday night, when Cass went to her dad’s house. And Jay and I spent every hour in bed making love and watching Christmas movies. He wanted to come to “The Nutcracker”, but I was worried about Ross.

We had already said our goodbyes, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for one more round, knowing that it might be a long time before I see him again (our habit is to break up after every weekend we spend together) .

“Can I have a French 75? I asked the bartender.

I wrapped my arms around Jay’s neck and practically sat on his lap.

“Good drink,” said a splashed stranger nearby. “My mother’s favorite. Named after a cannon during the war.

Jay and I watched. It was nice talking to strangers in a bar. With the way the world is now, it seemed like something from another time.

“Oh wow. What war?

“I don’t remember,” he said.

We spoke to a mother nearby who was judging a volleyball tournament this weekend. Then another man walked up with these weird bubble stuff coming out of his bag.

“What are these?” I asked, the alcohol shamelessly making me sociable.

“These are butt mats, for hiking.”

“Oh, smart,” I say.

Jay was silent. He becomes more shy in public. But he’s never shy around me.

“My girlfriend and I are going for a hike tomorrow. Mount Rainier. Have you two already been?

– No, but it’s beautiful, I say.

“Your sweater is just fabulous,” he said.

I wore my ugly Christmas sweater from the previous year. A giant sloth with a Santa hat adorned the front. I forgot I was wearing it.

“Where did you get it?” He asked.

“Target at Puyallup. “

“Ooh, maybe we’ll go there tomorrow,” he said. “We have a lousy Christmas party. And it’s just perfect!

“You know what?” I say, removing it. “It’s yours. I’ve worn it already.

“What? Are you serious? Oh, I couldn’t.

“Take it. It’s my Christmas good deed. I’m an elf.

“Wow. What can I get you back? A drink? I have to give you something.

“No, we’re good,” I said. “Really. Pay it on. Don’t make it awkward.

“Do you like chocolate?”

“Sure, but we actually have to go have sex now,” I said, gesturing to Jay.

The bartender looked dumbfounded.

The guy with the butt mats leaned over and whispered, “Oh, wait. Are you two – rascals? “

“Uh.” We laughed. Were we?

“My girlfriend and I are super in love -” he said.

Was he going to come up with a group sex thing?

“I went to Castle today to surprise her,” he said, referring to the sex shop chain. “I think I might just have the perfect thing for you.”

He rummaged through his bag, pulled out a gigantic roll of what appeared to be purple duct tape and said, “Here. “

“What is this?” Jay asked.

“Sex tape,” the man said with a smile.

I’m blushing. “Sextape? The bartender rolled his eyes and walked away.

“Yes, it’s popular in Sweden. You can tie yourself up. Stick to each other with your mouth closed. Blindfold each other.

“Wow, okay,” I say. “Thanks. We will try.

He gave us his number. I doubted we would ever write.

Back in the room, we got undressed, then Jay tried to record me. But I got an itch and broke it.

“Sorry, sorry!” I say, drunk and laughing.

I taped her arms together and then tied them to her feet because we didn’t have scissors; he looked like a baby in a ball. We were breaking down. Soon he was mummifying me, making me roll like a burrito. And then we gave up and fell into the mess of the gang. He lowered his head and kissed me.

– I don’t want you to go, I say.

“I know.”

“Can we take another trip like this soon?” “

“Yeah,” he said.

Two weeks later he was gone and we were no longer talking. He says he wants a chance to have children. And I can’t seem to get past a hotel bed. Sex tape can be fun, but it’s not what we need. What we really need, Santa (if you’re reading this) is some relationship glue.

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Newsrust - US Top News: 'The Nutcracker' and the Sex Tape
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