Ever since we started taking improv classes I have been meeting a lot of future stars.
We wanted to work on our improvisation skills as a way to improve our writing, and got a bonus of having a ton of fun and meeting a lot of creative people.
Some of whom are destined to be bright stars in whatever fields they go into; including my quiet man.
For nearly ten years he has let me take center stage. At parties, reunions, work, wherever; I talk and talk, occasionally bordering on a stand up act, telling well rehearsed jokes and stories.
At home I present an endless stream of conscious thought, vocalizing everything from deep philosophical revelations to the fact that I am going to the bathroom, again, and that I will be right back.
He’s quiet, I talk, it works.
Then we started improv classes with a range of people from high school students to seasoned actors with agents and everything, and me; awkward, nerdy, newbie who can’t seem to find the right words in a scene.
But he talks.
And it’s funny.
And he acts.
Without a script!
And I’m wowed.
My quiet man shines.
All these years I have been rambling on and on about anything and everything, thinking most of it was funny, but maybe not so much and wondering how I ever got so lucky as to have been blessed with a man who loves to hear me talk. Now I’m wondering if he just didn’t want to interrupt.