Dear Mr. Heckler,
I first would like to apologize for not succumbing to your requests. As a comedienne and entertainer, it is my priority that every one who sees me perform – whether by choice or not – enjoy themselves as much as possible.
Not only do I hope the audience has a good time, but I strive for a memorable performance. I want to make you laugh. Maybe even help forget the fact you are spending your Thursday night pounding back $1 PBRs while getting rejected by moderately attractive women.
When you yelled out “Show your vagina!” in the middle of my set, I had to make a conscious decision. And I made the conscious decision NOT to show my lady-parts as you so impolitely (no please?) requested. Once again, I apologize.
You were probably trying to make your friend Dirk, Chaz – or some other poorly thrown together moniker – laugh, but you completely missed the irony of your request. While you were drunkenly minimizing me to a body part, one which every woman and a few men (it is, after all the 21st century) have, you totally didn’t see what I was actually showing you.
I don’t know if you noticed, but I am a comedian, a female comedian. What I do while you are drinking to forget your problems, is openly talk about mine. I explore deeply personal fears, ambitions and observations, looking for validation through your laughter. I mess up, I get scared and I cry. I fail, a lot. And I quit, a lot. I also come back.
So Mr. Heckler, while you did get a high-five after your request to see an intimate, private part of me, you missed out on the fact that you were seeing a part of me that was intimately private.
Marina V. Shifrin