T for six: Tearoom Tango explores the hidden subculture of bathroom sex

Tearoom Tango’s title may conjure images of seniors sipping Earl Grey, but Madisonian Douglas Holtz’s monologue play is far darker than the worst bluehair dye-job. It’s actually a radical work that explores the rarely discussed world of anonymous bathroom sex. (“T-room” is short for “toilet room” in gay cruising lingo.) After a successful run last November, Mercury Players Theatre is bringing Tearoom Tango back to the Bartell Theatre for four performances beginning Friday, before it’s shipped east to the prestigious New York International Fringe Festival. The A.V. Club talked with Holtz about the catharsis he found in revealing his secrets onstage, and getting play-goers to discuss his work’s deeper themes and not the simulated blowjobs.

The A.V. Club: What aspects of Tearoom Tango are autobiographical?

Doug Holtz: In 1994, I was arrested in a public park for lewd and lascivious behavior, and a lot of that story is related in the play. Writing the play was sort of a catharsis for me to move beyond that kind of behavior, and wanting to look for something more.

AVC: Have you ever questioned telling such a deeply personal story?

DH: [Laughs.] It even goes a little beyond that, because I perform one of the characters. There’s been a lot of emotional turmoil and old wounds dredged up, because most of the stories my character tells come directly from my life. Reliving that pain onstage isn’t always fun.

AVC: It's a play about six guys in a bathroom. How did you decide where to take that?

DH: There are six guys in a bathroom, and each is distinctly different. There’s a 15-year-old homeless kid; a loner “bear” type; my character, who self-identifies himself as a slut; a police officer; an older gentleman who’s lost the great love of his life, and is in the T-rooms to find some sort of human contact; and a married construction worker who ends up there to fulfill a need that his wife won’t meet. All of them are there for different reasons, yet the stories share a commonality. I tried not to make it a morality play where I’m saying, “This is horrible, and nothing good can come out of it.” There is some hope.

AVC: Why bathrooms?

DH: I think part of it is the ease that sex can happen there. There’s not a lot of talking, and there’s almost a code of silence. People don’t get to know each other’s names or have a conversation. I equate it to our fast-food mentality culture: “I don’t want it to be good as long as it can be right now.”

AVC: So are you kind of blowing up this paradigm? Because obviously in a play the characters have to talk.

DH: Yes, in a way. Each of the men step out of the T-room twice to deliver a monologue. They may comment on it, but there’s an invisible wall between the men talking and everyone else. It’s opening up the code of silence from within each of the men’s minds. I think the frank nature allows people to find commonality in the stories that goes beyond bathroom sex and how people view homosexuals in general. It deals with a lot of issues.

AVC: What kinds of issues?

DH: Loneliness and loss. Identity—and not just as a homosexual. Separation. General biases and prejudices that exist in the world. Childhood fears. And quite simply, how people do or don’t relate to one another. Also, I wanted to shine a light on a culture that’s highly stigmatized, even within the gay community. I’ve always been a believer in education as a way to open minds and solve societal problems. People say it’s so easy to hook up online now that this kind of stuff doesn’t happen, but if that were true, the mounted police wouldn’t be at Olin Park arresting people. I don’t think it’s going to change until something changes on a societal level.

AVC: So why does this still exist, even with the ease of finding anonymous sex online?

DH: Online, you still have to somewhat meet and talk to the person—get to know their name, and possibly one of you will be invited to the other’s house before seeing one another. I’ve done it and it doesn’t always shake out the way you thought it was going to, and then you’re stuck with this person at your house. I think part of it is the absolute anonymity. In the play my character says, “I’d rather go to the T-rooms because you know what you’re getting into and it’s much easier to get out of it.” Plus, in a T-room you don’t have to pay a $50 bathhouse membership. [Laughs.]

AVC: Did you ever worry that the prurient nature of the material might overpower your messages?

DH: Yes, and that’s why things don’t get hot and heavy until well into the play. I don’t want to offend people to the point where they’re not listening anymore. Last time around we had overwhelmingly positive responses, even though there was some shock and surprise. But everyone walked away talking about the men and their lives, and not the blowjobs. The sex is muted and arty and in the background. It’s a very accessible piece.

AVC: What were some of the reactions you received?

DH: One man drove from Milwaukee to see the staged reading. He’d been a government worker for all his life, and gay and closeted because of his job. He’d been a frequenter of T-rooms his entire life, and during the talk-back session he came up to me in tears. He wanted to thank me, and said he’d known all the men in the play at some point in his life. The outpouring he showed me made me realize I couldn’t let this story die. I’m crying right now just thinking about it. The night changed my life, and for as much as anyone, I’m doing this for him.

AVC: Why do you think T-rooms are a male-dominated activity?

DH: I hope I don’t sound too sexist, but I think men have an easier time separating sex from emotion. In some basic way, men are seed-spreaders and women are nesters. I don’t mean that in every case—I know some men who won’t have sex outside of a relationship, and I know plenty of women who are sluts. Part of it is nature, and part of it is how we’re pushed by society. But I think both come together to feed into the justification for men having random sex. I think with the decline and fall of gay shame will come the fall of the T-rooms.