Deflowering a Virgin at The Minneapolis Children's Theater.

Well, Mr. Mark M has already told his side of this story to thousands of people, so I guess I
get to tell MY side, now.

After I had spent the summer of my eighteenth year in Dallas, doing a little modeling and a couple of stupid commercials, and dating David Patterson (Max's Dad), I got a call from a friend I'd met at The National Theatre's summer program in Santa Fe. A French guy. Very lively and funny. One of those actors who knows how to juggle and sing and dance - pretty much ready for the circus at a moment's notice. He was quite a bit older than me (as every one in that program was - I did it when I was 15), and he had landed a job teaching at the Minneapolis Children's Theater. For those of you who do not know about this legendary theater, let me just say it is (or was) the BEST children's theater in the country. THE BEST. And they were known for one of the top three SCHOOLS for acting in the country as well. And my friend was calling me up to offer me a job.

"They are looking for interns, an they weel take you on my recommendation.." said my friend on the phone. "It's not much money, but you live in the 'ousing, and you are in the plays...?" he explained. I knew what the theater was. I jumped at the chance. Unfortunately for me, I guess I hadn't been watching the news.

Things were strange just about as soon as I got there. The interns were rounded up first thing into the dance room, where we sat on the floor, and were given a VERY serious speech by a few of the teachers who had hired us. My French friend was there (Barry was his name, I think)standing in the back of the main three who spoke, with his arms crossed, nodding his head.

"I'm sure you're all aware of what has been and is still happening at the school..." this lovely woman began. (I had NO IDEA what she was talking about)"...you'll need to be prepared for camera crews, sometimes on a daily basis. The indictments are on-going. And in light of all this....drama, for lack of a better word.." (nervous laughter around the room), "it is EXTREMELY important that we make a couple of things clear right away."
I looked around at the other interns. Some of them nodded and seemed to know what she was talking about, others, like me,seemed clueless.
"So. " the woman went on."Firstly, NONE of you are to speak to the news organizations at ALL. Legally, we have no right to ask you to do this, but as a school, and a 'family', we are ASKING you to do this. We are requiring it. Most of you are new to us, anyway, so I imagine you wouldn't have a lot to say on the subject."
I had a sneaking suspicion that ALL of us were new. But I still didn't know WHAT this subject was that she was speaking of.
"Secondly .." (deep sigh) "I hate to even have to mention this, but - here goes. Most of you here are VERY young." (we sure were!) "And we have never had to say anything like this before, but.."

And here, another teacher, a man, jumped in.
"We HAVE to say this. It's a little uncomfortable, but, no matter how old you are - you're all at least 18 - YOU are in an interesting situation here as interns. You will all be teaching at least one class. So, technically....you are TEACHERS here. And there can be NO RELATIONS between teachers and students - I mean - especially now. Some of your students may be a year younger than you, or even your age. But we must INSIST that there be no inter-student relationships. Considering."

Considering WHAT exactly???
I found out soon enough. My friend took me aside and explained to me that the artistic director was going into trial for child molestation (many cases of them)and that half the faculty were going to be indicted for with-holding information. Turned out that some of them were being dragged into court for selling coke on campus as well. YIKES. What a crazy storm I had just waltzed into.

On top of this madness (oh yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury - there were MANY camera crews at school, and they would grab ANYONE to try and get a sound bite!) I was put into a house full of teenaged boys - as sort of an RA type!!! YES! ME!!! 18 yr. old ME!!!

The HOUSING situation at this place was just CRAZY! I was barely out of Interlochen, where we had adults telling us to turn the lights off at 10 pm, and a cafeteria. No such set up at this school. AND they let kids start BOARDING at the ripe old age of TWELVE!!! No wonder this abuse ran rampant. The kids boarded at various houses. 'My' house was an old victorian downtown - a few short blocks away from Prince's purple house. Three stories, with a landlord/pot dealer on the third story who was constantly trying to get me high and seduce me. He was forty something (I have to giggle now as I realize he was probably MY age), and seemed OLD to me. Old and creepy. And then there were all of these teenaged boys living there, including Mark.

It feels like I've already written about his. Have I? Am I losing my damn mind? You MUST have mercy and tell me if that's the case! Because if I really am losing it, I better just move to Spain already and get it over with - you know?

Mark lived in this crazy house with me. He was 17. Tall, thin - a dancer's body. And the exotic good looks of a Scandinavian prince. His eyes reminded me of a cat. And he had a great, thick shock of blonde hair.

In his article, he describes waiting for me with a hard-on around every corner - but I don't remember it like that. (And, of course I was from Texas, not Oklahoma, and I've never had a screen door))

The way I remember it, was that we became best friends. Our SEX relationship may only have lasted a week, but we were inseparable for months before that. It was Mark, and his good, gay friend, and myself. We did crazy things. We ran all over town, played a form of 'chicken' on the overpasses. I decided I wanted to direct him in a play version of 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' that I had written. So, we were rehearsing that at night, in our weird house.

The landlord cornered me and talked me into going sailing with him on his yacht. Sure enough, he HAD a yacht. Or it was rented, or a friend's - I don't know. It probably WAS his. I think he was a pretty established drug dealer.
He picked up a basket of fancy picnic items - champagne, what have you, and took me on this giant sailing yacht before it got freezing cold.

You'd think a man in his forties would have the working knowledge to know that when you ply a very young girl with champagne, brie and lots of MJ - ON a moving boat - it's NOT such a great recipe for seduction. GREAT recipe for throwing up over the side of said boat.

Green as a week-old cod, I returned to our victorian house and spilled my misadventure to Mark. We laughed about the old perv and at him. Mark was my BEST friend at this crazy place. It WAS crazy, too. A friend of mine from Interlochen came and testified against the artistic director. And not long after I arrived, my ONLY other friend (Barry - the Frenchie) high-tailed it back to France when HE was indicted for something or another.

It was crazy, and lonely and weird.
And despite myself - despite the severe warnings against it - I found myself more and more attracted to this 17 year old student.

We stayed up late, talking about anything and everything. His eyes were so intense. He was really smart. And the more we did together, the more this energy built up between us. It was like an invisible wildfire raging between our two bodies. It became more and more clear that there was no way to put it out except....to embrace it. It was weeks of torture. (he wasn't the only one) And finally, I caved. I asked him into my room.

That room. I can see it in my mind's eye. Like a stoic room from an old novel.(Jayne Ere) But I had a candle lit, and that was all we needed. I was as nervous as he was, I think. It was my first known deflowering, after all. Even Jeff Forrester had lied and told me he wasn't a virgin. (he told me LATER that he had been)

As awkward and as tense as everything was, it was that charged with electricity and longing, too. It was wonderful. I walked around in a full-on, blissed-out, sex-haze for the rest of that week.At school, we looked the other way dramatically. As soon as we got back to our victorian house, we were in each other's arms. Like almost all 17 year old boys, he was capable of having sex 10 - 20 times a night, so, I was going to school and rehearsal DEAD tired on top of everything else. And then...David called.

It's true. I was terrified of everything about Mark. My feelings, the morality of it (I really was), and NOT LEAST of all - the situation at the SCHOOL! I had broken the very sacred promise we all (all the interns) had made at the beginning. Maybe I could go to jail - I guess I COULD have! Mark WAS a minor. I was FREAKING.

So, when David called, I dumped poor Mark like a hot potato, and went to stay at a fancy hotel with older,lawyer, David.
Then, just as soon as David left (before Christmas break), I packed my few belongings into my car, wrote Mark a note, and left in the dead of night. I drove out to Hollywood (confused as HELL) and arrived at Hala's doorstep at 3 am in a Marilyn Monroe costume three days later. But THAT is a WHOLE other story.

TWENTY EIGHT YEARS later, Mark found me on Facebook. We had never spoken since then, never written - never ANYTHING.He directed me to the article he'd written about finding me, and we met up a year ago in NYC.

Funny how the world works.