I'm Feeling a Little "Wicked"

There is a comedienne I happen to like who is coming to town. Michael graciously offered to get tickets to see her for me, even though she is not his particular cup of tea. We'll call her Snarky McSarcastington. Snarky's tickets were for two days and two shows. Here is where I almost swallowed my tongue; for two tickets for an early show it would cost us $175.00, not including parking and gas money!
"Are you kidding me?" I gasped.
"No, that is with tax and stuff, but those are the cheapest seats"' Michael said disheartened. I could tell Michael was almost half afraid I would still want to go.
"I am not going to pay that much money for anybody, I don't car who they are" I responded indignant. "We spent that much going to see a Broadway show downtown with dinner afterward. This is outrageous!" I continued on my rant about how arrogant it seemed to charge that much for a one person show without so much as an orchestra backing them up.
I had been a fan of Snarky's and thought we had some things in common. We are both attractive gay men with boobs. We both have Irish catholic families. Snarky had always seemed more fan based than fame based, but I see now, I stand corrected. No good gay man worth his salt would extort that kind of money from his supporters. Every good gay I know can stretch a dollar, paying for their impeccable taste, until George begs for mercy. This seemed to me to be heresy.
I passed on the tickets, even though Michael and I haven't been out on the town in ages. The Broadway show we had last seen was "Wicked". I loved it, savoring every note, every moment until the last curtain call was over, lingering in the lobby reveling in the epilogue that continued to play as we left the theater. I love the theater. I suppose it is partially because I had thought as a child one day I would be in a theater performing somewhere. I had been a singer for most of my life and participated in many musical productions. I played musical instruments, mostly the trumpet all the way into college. Performing was as much a part of my upbringing as being raised in a small town. To this day, listening to the orchestra makes me cry.
Although I am missing out on the chance to see Snarky in person, I believe I am a better gay man for it. I have my principles, mind you. I would much rather take all that money and go to another Broadway production and dinner making a night of it, than have to search through the couch cushions, scraping together parking money the night of Snarky's show.
As any good gay man can tell you, it's not about what you spend, but whether or not you look and feel fabulous when you are spending it.