---Spellers do it on stage (excerpt)---Connor Timmons

“I look forward to seeing you naked” she smiled sweetly at me as she handed me the program for the evening's activities. I racked my brain for some clever yet erotic witticism that might somehow coax the lovely young hostess into more discussions of nudity. Of course there was nothing there worth repeating. I ravenously digested the contents of the page, half hiding my blushing cheeks, half hoping there would be some admission that this event was something other than what I knew it to be. After scouring the pamphlet for about ten minutes I realized this was exactly what it claimed to be, a strip spelling bee.

I first heard about the Honeysuckle Strip Spelling Bee from a friend living in another city. He had seen something about it on a friend's Facebook account and so he sent me the link. He knew me pretty well because my first instinct was “fuck yeah, I am so there”. As the date approached however, I began to second guess my initial reaction. I went through phases of doubt: first I would exercise furiously for a week or two trying to tighten my stomach, create some semblance of shoulders on my sickly frame. After bringing myself back to reality (rather, back to the reason I have a Woody Allen physique and its called laziness), I tried to focus on more practical preparations. I started to spell things. I did several whirlwind tours of the OED with the help of my roommates and felt moderately more comfortable with the impending challenges to my grey matter. This faded when I caught of glimpse of the movie Spellbound one evening. Its a movie I'd already seen, but the collected stories of young spelling dorks reminded me that signing up for the bee might place me more than just a little out of my league. Then there were those dark times when I doubted the less tangible but critical elements of a strip spellers character...moxie, balls, chutzpah, joie de vivre. Every culture seems to have an appropriate term for personal fundamentals to be admired and all are equally effective at reminding people, such as myself, that they are lacking this element.

Some days I woke knowing I needed to end up naked on stage and that it would present an opportunity to wash away any sexual demons I had recently encountered; a chance to kick my baggage to the curb and get back to the sex positive person I knew I was/am. Those days were counterbalanced by nightmarish scenarios of the theatre filling with disapproving ex girlfriends or family members all of whom would heckle me into the floor. The battle for control of my dignity was waged for weeks until out of nowhere the day came for the bee.

I did my best to sabotage my own plans by drinking myself into a stupor the night before, and for the better part of the day the hangover was enough to convince me to attend, but remain fully clothed. I met my friends on the way in the door and felt a nervous excitement creep along my skin. Had the exhibitionist in me done such a good job convincing my inner wallflower to partake that my body had been caught up in the fervor? Sitting there listening to the two of them bicker over questions of decency, youth and the like, my body had apparently decided that it was tickled pink over the notion of being ogled by a room of under-sexed bookworms. So my name found itself on the “spellers” list and the free drink that went along with that honor found itself in the bottom of my belly within seconds.

I was at the bar when the lovely lady handed me the brochure, effectively sealing my fate.

“what name did you put down?” my friend asked with wicked anticipation in his eyes.

“what do you mean?”

“well, I just assumed you'd use a fake name...tell me you used a fake name”

I blinked at him as if to say, 'you might have mentioned that when I wrote my legit name down RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU ten minutes ago!' A young woman squeezed past us toward the hostess to ask a question.

“excuse me...there's something in here about a striptease...I hope that's not what it sounds like,"

Perfect, another doubter, I could piggy back on her uneasiness. We would form a bond based on our mutual reservations and sashay our way out of there, possibly with a date...

"...because I haven't brought my music”

“oh not to worry we've taken care of the musical arrangements” answered the hostess reassuringly.

“Great, I would hate to have to deal with that” she said, genuinely relieved.

The room started to spin.