Comping a Date

Can you cop a feel after you comp a date? Ed finds out.

Having job perks isn't new to me, although my job at Arena Stage is the first time I've actually used them on a date. A few years ago, I spent a little time working at the William Morris Agency, one of the biggest power-players in Hollywood. Now mind you, my only power was to answer the phone, take messages in triplicate (yes, triplicate), and get yelled at by the agent I worked for.

Nevertheless, I realized right before I quit a mere two months later that women would be willing to do all kinds of unprintable but fun things based on the flimsy hope that I could make them a star (between scheduling my agent's manicures and telling her clients she was in an important meeting). But I wasn't at all interested in the type of woman that dates a Hollywood assistant so that she can trade up to a Junior Agent next week.

Now, however, I am situated in a culture I prefer -- the DC theater scene. And I really do like women who like men who work in the theater. Which is lucky for me, working in the theater and all.

And while I may no longer have the imaginary promise of fame of fortune, I do have access to the ultimate arts-world dating perk: the comp ticket. Unfortunately, there's more baggage using the comp ticket in the dating world than in an overhead bin on a 747.

If you use a comp ticket on a date, is it really a date? And if so, is it the equivalent of pulling out a two-for-one coupon at a nice restaurant?

Being on a non-profit budget these days, I'm sure hoping that women see comps as extra-special, not extra-cheap. Of course, I could try to hide the fact that they are comped. But they'd probably notice the "Comp" crossed out on the tickets and replaced by my handwritten, "Very expensive. And Ed's a great kisser."

When we both sit prior to curtain, it's time to impress my date with my inside-theater job:

"See that paragraph on page 14 of the program, thanking our sponsor? I wrote that."

On second thought, what I actually do in development isn't always as sexy as what's on stage. That is when embellishment comes in handy.

For example, my only creative participation in Arena's last show, Anthems: Culture Clash in the District, was attending an early rehearsal, along with about 20 other employees, and raising my hand to say that there was a line I didn't get.

But if I bring a date to Anthems, I tell her the charismatic young director asked me what I thought of the play early in the rehearsal process, so I gave him some critical feedback that made the show what it is tonight. And maybe that the playwright is doing his next play about the exciting life of an arts/humor columnist. (He could be, you never know.)

Of course, when I first took this theater job, I thought I'd be dating mostly theater women. At first glance, theater sounds like the perfect way to meet women: They tend to be interesting and beautiful, and the competition tends to be gay. But that hasn't happened, probably because the comp thing doesn't have the same allure for those in "the biz," so I'm just left with my charm. And therefore, I'm better off relying on the comps.

But don't worry. I don't just depend on comps to help me meet women. I also write columns for a certain local arts website hoping that bright, witty women will read them, email me, and do all kinds of unprintable but fun things.

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Ed Spitzberg, a former lounge singer (www.eddielounge.com), is now associate director of development at Arena Stage, where he is paid in comp tickets. He writes this column on a monthly basis, except when it is unprintable (but fun). Email Ed at eddie@eddielounge.com.