The Burlesqueapades

If I took one more bite of my food, I might have hurled. I never felt like this before — so nervous I couldn’t even eat. In less than two hours, and with no background in stage performance, I would be stepping up to take off my clothes and dance in front of a crowd. It seemed like I was in over my head.

A few months earlier I’d gone to a Vaudeville-style variety show and discovered a coworker doing burlesque under the name Honey Touché. I’d known something seemed wickedly awesome about her, but this was way more exciting than I imagined. I caught up with her after the show and we immediately kindled a new friendship over our love for life’s obscurities.

I learned a little about burlesque and found out that it didn’t resemble modern stripping — instead, a performer either beautifully or humorously teases her way up to a final reveal removing her top (rather than just revealing the whole time). Technically the girls didn’t even get “naked” since they wore pasties; instead of raunchy and overtly-sexual, these girls make burlesque glamorous and fun. It’s something many gay men could appreciate, despite the abundant lady flesh.

Honey told me that even guys participated in this revival, calling it “boylesque.” Knowing how much I enjoyed it, she suggested I actually get on stage and try it.

Easy for her to say. Honey Touché was a super fox with fiery red hair and go-go dance skills to match. I was just some Joe Shmoe queer boy who lacking both talent and self-esteem.

When the fall season came around, Honey informed me that their main hub, Lannie’s Clocktower Cabaret, would be doing a holiday-themed show called “The Burlesqueapades.” She had a brilliant idea for a parody of The Nutcracker and wanted me to play the male part. I tried warning her again that I had no stage experience, but she seemed to think I’d do just fine. The thrill seeker inside me finally agreed.

Honey cranked out the choreography and outfits as the two of us practiced for months. The thought of stripping wasn’t the scary part — I had enough experience with nudism that I was fairly comfortable with my body in front of others. Instead I was more worried about the choreographed dance.

When the time came, my nerves were shot. I didn’t know if I could go on. My hands were sweating and I felt dizzy with fear. The lights dimmed and I knew it was now or never — when the lights returned I leaped and hopped into the air, some sort of robotic ballerina. Once we started removing our costumes, the audience really began to cheer. These people were excited and I was part of the excitement.

As “The Dance of The Sugar Plum Fairy” came to an end, Honey took off her top and I stripped down my unitard. Her pasties matched my codpiece with amusing, white feathers. The audience roared with applause and the lights went out.

I ran off stage trying not to trip on my outfit still wrapped around my ankles. I could feel my heart racing and my mouth felt like sandpaper, and as heat surged through my body I realized that this was the feeling of pure adrenaline gone right. I wanted to do it all over again.

Throughout the years I continued to join Honey on the stage whenever she needed a male counterpart. I even made an attempt at a solo act during a 1980s-themed burlesque show; just one of the many produced by the lovely Midnite Martini. But each Holiday season, I look forward in particular to strapping on that ridiculous unitard and joining The Burlesqueapades for the show that gave me the thrill of a lifetime: it simply doesn’t feel like Christmas unless I take my clothes off in front of a screaming crowd.

Scott McGlothlen is a cultural columnist on life as a HIV-positive gay man. r See more of Scott’s columns online at ofcnow.co/scott or contact him at scott@outfrontonline.com.