The Perils of Acting

When I was a teenager, I was the prototypical nerd, destined to be an engineer,

not an actor. The evidence is painfully apparent in this grainy, Sasquatch-like photo of

me at the age of 13.

I’ll wait until the laughter stops.

Now that you’ve had a chance to pick yourself up off the floor and wipe the

streamer of drool away, I think you’ll agree that if the guy in the photo acted in anything,

it would be in Revenge of the Nerds 12: The Dorkening.

But I have defied the odds and now have more than 20 plays, as well as a few

films and commercials, under my belt. And by far, the most frequent comment I get from

non-actor friends who come see me play a leading man is about the kissing. Yes, they

almost always compliment me on my performance, but whether the kudos are heartfelt or

obligatory, they’re pretty much expected when you ask friends to come see you on stage.

Right after the praise, though, they regularly note that I, a happily married man, was

brazenly smooching another woman right in front of them. I even get applause for such

rude behavior.

Puckering up is typically required of the leading man, also called the romantic

lead. He doesn’t have to be the star of the show, but he’s the one the audience roots for.

He’s the hero, the guy who gets the girl, and when he does, he usually plants one on her.

Oftentimes, actors have known each other only a few days when they get to that part of

the rehearsal process, and locking lips with someone you’ve just met is an awkward

experience, particularly in front of a roomful of people.

I’ve played ensemble roles and supporting parts, but most often I’ve been cast as

the leading man. I suppose that’s partly because I am genetically predisposed to the traits

directors are looking for, with 6’2” of height, a full head of hair, and a slender

build(maintained by banning Doritos from the pantry). As you can see from the

Sasquatch photo, however, I’ve also had to overcome faulty genetics: five years of braces

to retract a Bugs Bunny-style overbite, laser surgery to correct eyesight that would have

made Mr. Magoo cringe, and the removal of a neck tumor that permanently paralyzed the

left side of my vocal cords but still lets me project my voice to the back of the theatre.

Of course, physical characteristics aren’t the only requirements; the leading man

also has to be able to win over the audience. The supporting roles are usually more

colorful and memorable, but unless the leading man convinces the audience members that

he deserves to win the hand of his beloved, the overall experience will be hollow. And to

convince them, the leading man generally has to kiss the leading lady.

So how does my wife feel about all this? While she isn’t thrilled about it, she isn’t

threatened by it, either. She knows it’s simply part of the actor’s life, and it’s my job to

convince her that, in that one moment, I’m not her husband, but someone else’s.

Besides, she’s the one I go home with when the show is over.