In my quest for love, a good friend and I went out for drinks to discuss my situation. Over much heartfelt talk, and a few tears on my part, she asked me a rather interesting question: Who am I?
And you know what, I couldn't answer the question.
After many years of freelance work, which constantly requires a new face and a new attitude for each job environment, my wants and needs are as easily applied and removed as the makeup I apply to a model's face. Happy, sad, sexy or queeny, I've played every role with gusto. I mean, Oscar, Tony, Emmy - even a fucking People's Choice Award - I've earned them all.
Yet, sitting with a happy hour Rasmopolitan in my hand, I came to the conclusion that I had no idea who I am.
You know, I think I better find out.