A New Acronym

Keith, who saw the show ages ago, said that I "got wood." Right there on stage in the middle of the scene. He said he could see it clearly. No question about it.
I questioned it, because I have no clear recollection. You see, I was acting. I was in character. Whatever happens when I'm in the World of the Stage comes from beyond. So it might be more accurate for him to say "Your character got wood." To which I could only respond with pride: "Why yes, it was a powerful moment in the life I was trying to create. The physical realities added depth to the performance."

This would be a lie. I think. Like I said, I don't really remember. The fact is I'm not THAT good of an actor. The other fact is that when something like that happens (or NOT!) the non and half truths are always going to be infinitely preferable to the simple truth: that males are cursed with an Awkward Physical Manifestation that has a mind of its own.

Certain questions should be asked. When Keith pointed out my alleged APM, why should it have to feel like an accusation? Why couldn't I put the stigma aside and say "Damn right I did!" Shouldn't I, as a liberated man with nothing to hide or be ashamed of, be able to own that moment? (Hypothetically speaking)

I mean, this is all academic, but what if I did? What makes it a significant event (if it even happened)? Since the Dawn of Time, men with thoughts and intentions as pure the snows of Everest have suffered the blight of the involuntary APM. I don't see people making fun of the fact that I pay taxes and will someday confront death. So why shouldn't I heft the serene weight of History and proclaim: "I don't know exactly why you were so focused on that particular area, but let's just say I'm glad you could see it from that far away."

Or, "I don't even care if you're making it up. Go ahead. I'm glad I could make such a pedestrian, even quotidian event something special for you."

Or, "Keith, I respect you and don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'm married, and even if I wasn't I'm a dedicated metro."

Or, "That wasn't a rabbit in my pocket. I was just glad to see you."

Or, "Hey, what can I say, Free Willy was my favorite movie."

Or, "Dude, there was a hot actress tracing circles around my belly button as I reclined in her lap on a table. I'm a professional, but I'm also a man. Things happen. I can only pity the fact that you seem to derive such a prurient and puerile satisfaction from it."

Any of these would have been better than stammering and staring. Why couldn't I say them when the finger of judgement was in my face?

Probably because it never happened.