Hold Me Closer: The Tiny Cooper Story (5 page)

Just in case you think, heading into Act II, that this is going to be one of those boy-meets-boy, boy-loses-boy, boy-gets-boy-back stories . . . the playwright must now point out the comedy of your error. Believe me, he had those notions at the start. He thought all he had to do was send love out into the universe and it would come back to him in the form of a perfect guy. A match. A soul mate. Remember the lesson Lynda gave him early on about halves? In the years since, he’s forgotten it. It’s not enough for him to be gay. He has to have a boyfriend. A you-are-my-everything boyfriend.

This is the dangerous thing about musicals. Most of them assume that as soon as you find your voice, you’ll use it to sing to someone else. That way, you can get your enchanted evening, your seasons of love, your tale as old as time, your Camembert, your edelweiss.

The thing is, in musicals there’s not a whole lot of looking (except in the case of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s
Cinderella
.) In musicals, things happen that throw you into love, whether it’s gang warfare on the West Side, or a Nazi invasion, or needing a neighbor to light your candle.

Real life doesn’t provide quite so many openings. No, in real life, you’ve got to work a little harder to get to love.

I was willing to do the work. I was willing to look high and low for the perfect harmony.

I looked
everywhere
. I dated a lot of boys.

And what did I get out of it?

I got . . .

The Parade of Ex-boyfriends.

Yes, this second act has a pretty strange structure (although maybe not as strange as the second act of
Follies
, right?). Here we’re going to trace my progression as a person through my progression of breakups, because honestly at the time I couldn’t tell the difference between the two. We’re going to lose the Age button now and just go with the high school years as one entity. Because I’m sure that’s going to be how they’ll feel when they’re over. Assuming they ever end.

The next number calls for nineteen parts (including Tiny). I know that’s a lot to ask of any production. So feel free to double- or triple-cast. Also feel free to give every ex a number somewhere on his costume, like this is the deli counter from dating hell. Whatever works. And, duh, the boyfriends can be played by girls dressed as boys. But you knew that already, I’m sure.

The key for the actor playing Tiny is to know this: I wanted it. I really, really wanted it. Keep that in mind at all times, even when I’m being foolish.

When the curtain rises, we see a swing set on the stage. There is a brief overture as Tiny swings on his own. Then the music stops for his opening monologue.

TINY:

Love is the most common miracle. Love is always a miracle, everywhere, every time. But for us, it’s a little different. I don’t want to say it’s
more
miraculous—it is, though. Our miracle is different because some people say it’s impossible. But let me tell you—it’s possible. Very possible.

Tiny leaps off the swing and lands in what seems to be a heap.

TINY:

I fall and I fall and I fall and I fall and I fall. . . .

The swing set is wheeled off, and the
EX-BOYFRIENDS
march onstage to the start of their song.

[“PARADE OF EX-BOYFRIENDS”]

CHORUS OF EX-BOYFRIENDS:

We are the parade of ex-boyfriends!

EX-BOYFRIEND #1:

You’re too clingy.

EX-BOYFRIEND #2:

You’re too sing-y.

EX-BOYFRIEND #3:

You’re so massive.

EX-BOYFRIEND #4:

I’m just too passive.

EX-BOYFRIEND #5:

I’d rather be friends.

EX-BOYFRIEND #6:

I don’t date tight ends.

EX-BOYFRIEND #7:

I found another guy.

EX-BOYFRIEND #8:

I don’t have to tell you why.

EX-BOYFRIEND #9:

I don’t feel the spark.

EX-BOYFRIEND #10:

It was only just a lark.

EX-BOYFRIEND #11:

You mean you won’t put out?

EX-BOYFRIEND #12:

I can’t conquer my doubt.

EX-BOYFRIEND #13:

I have other things to do.

EX-BOYFRIEND #14:

I have other guys to screw.

EX-BOYFRIEND #15:

Our love has all been in your head.

EX-BOYFRIEND #16:

I’m worried that you’ll break my bed.

EX-BOYFRIEND #17:

I think I’ll just stay home and read.

EX-BOYFRIEND #18:

I think you’re in love with my need.

CHORUS OF EX-BOYFRIENDS:

Tiny Cooper, have no doubt:

You’re the one we can live without.

TINY
(
in a Sondheimian frenzy
):

What’d I do?

What’d I say?

Why did these boys

all go away?

I tried hard to be

who they’d want me to be

though most of the time

I couldn’t help being me.

Was I too loud?

Too quiet?

Why work on the package

when there’s no one to buy it?

Am I not enough of a gay?

Not enough of a guy?

My love life’s a train wreck

so I might as well fly. . . .

CHORUS OF EX-BOYFRIENDS:

Parade!

Of the ex-boyfriends!

Any relationship that starts

inevitably ends!

EX-BOYFRIEND #1:

You wanted me too much.

EX-BOYFRIEND #2:

I can’t be your emotional crutch.

EX-BOYFRIEND #3:

Just look at your size!

EX-BOYFRIEND #4:

You don’t make my hormones rise.

EX-BOYFRIEND #5:

I’ll see you around school.

EX-BOYFRIEND #6:

I hope that we’re cool.

EX-BOYFRIEND #7:

I hope I’m not hurting you.

EX-BOYFRIEND #8:

I’m happily deserting you.

EX-BOYFRIEND #9:

You’re drowning me in texts.

EX-BOYFRIEND #10:

I can’t imagine us having sex.

EX-BOYFRIEND #11:

I guess I’m more of a slut.

EX-BOYFRIEND #12:

I need someone with a nicer butt.

EX-BOYFRIEND #13:

I never really thought it would work.

EX-BOYFRIEND #14:

Don’t make it sound like
I’m
the jerk.

EX-BOYFRIEND #15:

You’ll never, ever complete me.

EX-BOYFRIEND #16:

I don’t mind if you want to delete me.

EX-BOYFRIEND #17:

I hate it when you hold my hand.

EX-BOYFRIEND #18:

I don’t think you’ll ever truly understand.

CHORUS AND TINY:

The only way to learn

how to make something last

is to be yanked from your future

to reckon with the past.

Parade of ex-boyfriends

you thought you once knew.

Parade of ex-boyfriends,

who are all through with you.

CHORUS:

Your love life’s a train wreck—

TINY:

—so I might as well fly.

CHORUS:

But you must hear our stories—

TINY:

—before I can try.

CHORUS:

Love is not easy.

TINY:

No matter how hard you pretend.

CHORUS:

Any relationship that starts—

TINY:

—inevitably ends.

CHORUS
(
spoken
):

Except.

TINY:

Except?

CHORUS
(
resumes singing
):

Except the one that transcends.

TINY:

Yes, the one that transcends.

Please send the one that transcends!

All the ex-boyfriends leave the stage. Ex-boyfriend #18,
WILL
, might linger a little bit longer. Because, let’s face it—he’s the most recent, and those tend to linger longer. Which isn’t to say I’m not over it. I am completely over it. Except for those moments when I’m not over it at all.

But eventually Will leaves the stage. Because that’s what he did—he left the stage. Took himself off. Exit, stage right. (Or stage left—whichever works for your blocking—I’m using this more as a metaphor than as a stage direction here.)

Tiny is now alone onstage. The parade has passed him by. But now it’s going to return, slower this time, so he can see what’s happened.

We are going back to the start of his dating life here—the first date.

As we approach the next song, he should look eager and excited. He’s so naïve that he doesn’t really feel too nervous—he actually thinks dating is going to be easy, now that he knows who he is. Try to capture that. Try to capture what it’s like to have never squeezed yourself into the shape of someone else’s expectations. Try to capture what it’s like not to be thinking in terms of “types.” Try to capture what’s it like to have no exes, to have never failed. Try, if you can, to show that in the way Tiny is getting ready for tonight.

A mirror appears, and we see him comb his hair, maybe put on a kickass jacket. He’s pulling out all the stops for this first date. Once he’s judged himself lovable, he turns to the audience and begins his tale.

TINY
:

My first date ever was with Brad Langley, who was a whole year older than me—which at the time meant
ninth grade
. Word of my outstanding outness had spread through the school like pink wildfire. Brad was bedazzled by the flames and traced them back to their source: yours truly.

BRAD
appears onstage. He is dressed with a kickassness similar to Tiny’s.

It really doesn’t matter, but he is absolutely adorable.

BRAD
(
a little shy
):

Hi. Are you Tiny?

TINY

(
not getting why this boy is approaching him
):

Do I
look
Tiny?

BRAD:

You look about as tiny as Idina Menzel’s voice.

Now Brad has Tiny’s attention.

TINY:

So
if
I tell you I appreciate that reference . . .

BRAD:

. . . then
I’ll know I’m talking to the right guy. Most people here don’t know their Merman from their Martin.

TINY:

Heathens.

BRAD:

I
know
.

TINY
(
to audience
):

Within minutes of our first conversation, we established all the things we had in common. And we kept having the same conversation for days, because we were enjoying it so much. If we started by talking about musicals, soon we were talking about
everything
.

The following is sung at first as a classic call-and-response—like “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better” only they’re doing the opposite of disagreeing. This is about what it’s like to find a kindred spirit, and what it’s like to know you’ve found that kindred spirit by piecing together all the pop culture references you love. We need to see Tiny and Brad getting more and more excited as this part of the song plays out.

[“I LIKE”]

TINY:

I like seeing Draco in Harry’s arms.

BRAD (EX-BOYFRIEND #1
):

I like succumbing to the Weasley boys’ charms.

TINY:

I like singing in the shower.

BRAD:

I like singing at
any
hour.

TINY:

I like daydreaming about Cumberbatch.

BRAD:

I like keeping photos of him in my Sherlock stash.

TINY:

I like
Phantom of the Opera
—

BRAD:

—and the music of the night.

TINY:

I like “Bali Ha’i”—

BRAD:

—and when Emile sees the light.

TINY:

I like Idina in green—

BRAD:

And Judy on yellow.

TINY:

I like Patti at
don’t cry—

BRAD:

—and Barbra at
hello!

TINY:

I like brown-paper packages—

BRAD:

—tied up in string!

I like the trolley bell—

TINY:

—that goes
ding ding ding!

TINY AND BRAD

(
spoken, completely bowled over by the serendipity of their synchronicity
):

Wow . . .

Tiny pauses to make an observation to the audience.

TINY:

Of course, once we saw we had all this in common, we got more personal. Because that’s how it goes, right? You make enough mirror connections and you feel safe to fall below the surface, to get to the deeper truths you don’t think are visible to the naked eye.

The song resumes.

TINY:

I like that my parents didn’t kick me out of the

house.

BRAD:

I like that my stepfather isn’t a louse.

TINY:

I like that I don’t have to pretend.

BRAD:

I like that I don’t think my life will end.

TINY:

I like that I don’t have to worry about flirting.

BRAD:

I like that my soul is no longer hurting.

Tiny addresses the audience again. Brad remains paused in the conversation, oblivious.

TINY:

We kept talking and talking. And we didn’t do anything else. I wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to be his boyfriend. But I had no idea what he wanted. This was the only thing we didn’t talk about—the subject of us.

As we started a second month without clarifying the whole are-we-dating-and-are-we-going-to-kiss? thing, I found myself getting closer and closer to the edge of bringing it up.

The song resumes.

TINY:

I like to stare for hours at Cate Blanchett.

BRAD:

I like to watch as much Sandra Bullock as I

can get.

TINY:

I like to watch reruns of
Buffy
when I’m

feeling huffy.

BRAD:

I like to turn on
Doctor Who
when I’m

feeling blue.

TINY:

I like salted caramel ice cream.

BRAD:

I like Darren Criss and “Teenage Dream.”

TINY:

I like Liza in Berlin—

BRAD:

—and Rita on the West Side.

TINY:

I like Nemo with his dad—

BRAD:

—and Simba with his pride.

TINY
(
suddenly blurty
):

I like all of these things,

it’s true.

But I also like

your body and

your smile,

your jacket

and your shoes,

your sweetness

and your jokes,

your style

and your smell.

In other words

what I guess I’m saying is

I like you.

Yes, you.

I really like you—

so much, too.

Yeah, it’s true,

I really, really like you.

I mean,

I really, really, really like you.

BRAD
(
spoken
):

Oh. Um . . . oh. Thanks?

TINY
(
sung
):

I like you I like you I like you

I like you!

I like you!

I liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-ike you!

BRAD
(
spoken
):

You really don’t have to do that.

TINY
(
getting really into it, not hearing Brad
):

I liiiii-ike you.

Oh yes.

Oh really.

I like you so so so so much.

BRAD
(
spoken
):

We’ve only known each other a month.

TINY
(
sung like “Tomorrow”
):

I like you,

I like you,

I may love you,

But now I like you . . .

BRAD:

I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Tiny. But you’ve got to stop.

TINY
(
sobering now, more plaintive
):

But I like you . . .

I really like you . . .

BRAD:

I’m going to go now.

TINY
(
spoken now
):

But I like you.

BRAD:

I’m sorry. Really, I am. But I can’t be that. I can’t

do that. I really have to go now.

Brad exits the stage.

TINY
(
calling after him
):

I like you!

This last one is the one that’s going to haunt him, the one that even he realizes is one too many, one too late. Brad isn’t ready, and Tiny isn’t ready for Brad not to be ready. So what might have been an amazing friendship gets dashed against the wall by romantic hopes. It’s weird to look at now, to see that although I felt we were the same, we really weren’t in the same place. I learned an important lesson: that just because a boy can recite the full tracklist to the
[title of show]
cast album, it doesn’t mean that he necessarily knows what the title of his own show is going to be.

Of course, this lesson didn’t come until much later. Right then, I didn’t feel taught. I felt tricked and trapped and traumatized.

Which makes it time to send in the Friend Brigade.

Phil Wrayson enters from the side where Brad just left. Dialogue below is spoken, not sung.

PHIL:

It’s okay. There are plenty of other boys out there. I’m sure you’ll like one of them, too.

TINY:

But I like
him.

PHIL:

I’m sure there’s a better way to say this, but because that better way is just not occurring to me at the moment, I’m going to say it this way: He doesn’t like you back. Not the way you want him to.

TINY:

But that’s not fair!

PHIL:

I have absolutely no experience in this realm, but my gut instinct tells me that fairness isn’t really what breaking up is about.

TINY:

Breaking up? Is that what just happened?

PHIL

(
looking to where Brad left, then turning again to Tiny
):

Unless he comes back here in the next five seconds, I would say so.

They both count out five seconds. Tiny uses his fingers. At five, he releases a big sigh.

TINY:

Does it get easier?

PHIL

(
looking and sounding like he has no idea what he’s talking about
):

Sure! Of course!

Phil walks offstage. Which is really easy for him to do, considering.

TINY:

I thought I would be able to put Brad behind me and find someone better, smarter, more charming, and—most important—someone who liked me as much as I liked him. As the end of the school year came around, I dove right into the blue-eyed gaze of Silas, one of the other gay kids at our school. We didn’t have much in common, but I thought that being gay in common would be enough. I overlooked the fact that when I started talking about
Les Misérables
, he asked me if it was in French. Or when I mentioned “Memory,” he asked me what show it was from, and then found it
hysterical
that I would like a song that was sung by a cat. He’d talk to me, too, about things like politics, but I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking of something else. Or, more accurately, some
one
else.

SILAS
, Ex-boyfriend #2, comes onstage and sits at a table—clearly, a date. Tiny sits at the table across from him. Looks him lovingly in the eye. The audience probably thinks, “Oh, this is going well.” Then Tiny opens his mouth.

TINY
(
to the tune of “I LIKE”
):

Braaaaaaaaaaad! Brad Brad Brad Brad Brad. Brad Brad Brad.

Brad Brad.

Braaaaad.

Braaaaad!

Silas looks at him like he’s crazy and leaves.