Playing With Myself

"If anything, it will be a great story," I said last April to my college buddy Chris Cannon as we were walking into an open-call audition for Puppetry of the Penis. As musical theater majors, both of us jumped at the opportunity for any stage time we could get, but I never considered myself an exhibitionist. While my college roommates could tell stories of a game I sometimes played called Is-it-my-finger-or-penis-that’s-touching-the-back-of-your-neck, in high school and before alcohol, I was too bashful to shower in the locker room with other guys.

Chris and I landed the gig, and before we knew it we were standing in the buff, contorting our genitals into shapes for new york audiences. Before Puppetry, my genital origami skills consisted of strumming my penis like a guitar, and that was it. Now I proudly boast a repertoire of almost 50 tricks, several of my own creation. Puppetry of the Penis has been around the world and back several times. In fact, while the show was making its debut at the Melbourne Comedy festival in 1997, I was making my own stage debut in the children’s choir of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Oh, if they could see me now!

As for my family, I feared telling my conservative mother, who most likely voted for george W. Bush at least once. “Mom, I got an Off-Broadway show! It’s a comedy show. I’m naked in it. The whole time.” But a mother’s love and support can come when you least expect it. Even less expected was her seeing the show. twice. She also bought several “how-to” books after the show to give to friends. This is a pretty big deal considering I grew up in a home where watching The Simpsons would get you grounded.

My childhood was one of knowing that I wanted more than a rural Ohio farm town could offer. When a town’s big thrill is hosting the annual County fair (complete with tractor pulls and the chasing of oil-slicked pigs), you begin to wonder just how long you can live there. I tried, like most boys growing up in my three-stoplight town, to balance sports with dance classes, aspiring to be the next fred astaire who could also hit above .300. Dance led to a love of theater, which led to theater-training at a fouryear conservatory in Pittsburgh, which led to a penis show. That last part is a strange jump I’ll admit, but the last time I heard, my headshot was hanging up in Point Park University’s wall of fame next to Tony Award-winning choreographer Rob Ashford. And even my grandparents say they’re proud—but maybe that’s because I told them the show was called Brigadoon.

Regardless of what my grandparents believe, I’ve performed upwards of 225 performances in the nude in five different countries and am heading to Belgium and Denmark in the fall. During our recent Scandinavian tour, I learned that all European men, regardless of sexual orientation, will show you their penis, whether you want to see it or not. Yhe frequency with which i see a penis that isn’t mine is quite strange (I have seen more dick in the past year and a half than any straight man should). Fortunately for me, my wife Olivia tours with us selling merchandise and operating the camera that projects our penises on a screen much larger than my already tall 6-foot 3-inch stature. So, please spare us the insults and leave your opera glasses at home. Despite what my ego wants to think, zooming in and out on my penis daily is probably not my wife’s dream job, but someday we can tell our grandchildren about the beautiful fjords of norway we saw, all thanks to their grandfather’s genitals.

Sometimes I feel very much like a rockstar, like when we did a private show for Christina Aguilera during our run in Los angeles earlier this year. She even told Ryan Seacrest on his radio show how much she enjoyed it and that she took a photo of our “hamburger” installation on her cell phone and sent it to her mother. But living in Xtina’s phone, however fun it is to tell people, has done little in the way of landing me an agent or manager or even more followers on twitter. (@richbinning has been sitting at a whopping 81 followers for the better part of a year.)

What have I learned from being a penis puppeteer? I think it’s done nothing for my modesty, since just last week my face flushed red with embarrassment at the realization that I had walked across 42nd Street with my fly down. And god knows 42nd Street has seen worse. For now at least, I still have a grasp on social norms. Doing the show, however, has helped me not take life or myself too seriously; and really how could anyone who plays with himself for a living take himself seriously? Though I am much more comfortable with my body, in my Queens apartment I still prefer to sleep in boxers. I rarely walk around naked, except for that one time Olivia was on the floor organizing our closet, and I took that opportunity to knight her with my man-sword. Still, that wholesome Ohio boy is very much a part of me, and probably helps give the show its charm. I’m nice enough to take home to grandma, but would twist my dick around a bit for her, too.

Sure, I have big aspirations to become a well-known and respected actor, but for now I’m very content being a naked and working one.

Puppetry of the Penis runs through Sept. 4 at The Green Room Theatre, 45 Bleecker St. (betw. Lafayette St. & Bowery), 212-253- 5555; $45 and up.