Reigning Grand Duchess Pollo Deel Mar and Sacramento’s Precious Cargo take a moment from the pomp and circumstance to snap a photo at San Francisco’s Imperial Coronation XLV.

Notorious Sainted Glamazon About Town 

Sometimes it seems like I missed out on Life’s Little Instructions Manual. Periodically, I find myself in situations or circumstances which feel completely foreign to me. It’s at those moments that I particularly feel like everyone else around me – the whole world! — has somehow received information on how to respond, act, feel their way through or cope…and I, through some turn of events completely beyond my control, never quite got the memo.  

Situations like the February 27 Imperial Coronation XLV used to particularly trip me up. In fact, almost any large (like more than five people) social situation – though I know, outwardly at least, I appear to breeze through with aplomb – once sent me into internal tailspins (and still can, if I’m to be honest). Luckily, with experience, practice and often considerable effort, I’m improving.

What to say, wear, do and be, all of which once escaped me, have started to come more naturally as I maneuver these sometimes sticky situations. Generally, I find, it’s simply a matter of trying to remain as true to myself as possible without putting my foot in my mouth. It’s usually easiest when I simply relax and allow the situation to unfold around me.

Whereas I once wondered how best to manage these frequently awkward gathering while fostering the kind of image I felt others expect of me, now I would much rather just take a breath, try my best to enjoy the moment and wait to see what happens. This past weekend, of course, that proved easy enough. Surrounded by more than 40 members of the Grand Ducal Council of San Francisco, one of the largest contingents in the organization’s recent history – and many of whom I consider friends and, in most cases, extended family – I certainly felt confident and secure enough. 

It allowed me to enjoy the evening in ways I haven’t in the past, where I might have anxiously tried to remember names of far too many new people and felt like – regardless of whether I looked the part or not – I somehow didn’t fit in while gleaning the situation for hints at those much-needed, yet all-too-elusive instructions I never received. 

This year, I very definitely felt I did belong, and that allowed me to be free of angst while celebrating the step-down of my friend Paul Maka Poole, now officially San Francisco’s Emperor XXXVII, and Empress XLIV Angelina Josephina Manicotti. And, of course, I was quite excited to see both Stephen Dorsey and Renita Valdez, each of whom I have worked closely with in the past, crowned as our new Imperial Monarchs. Though the length of the event was a challenge, making my way through without suffering excruciating social consequences and setbacks was not.

That, friends, is what I call “growth.”

The flip side of this, of course, is the much more treacherous path of close, interpersonal interactions. These small, more intimate social settings, more than any other, are a truly difficult road for me. The most frustrating, without question, is dating. It’s the reason I have generally banished the subject from these pages. Well, that and the fact that I almost never do it.

Regardless, whether it’s in the skills necessary to meet men, how to successfully navigate the course of the actual date itself or how to play the games necessary to keep someone wanting more once they’ve expressed interest, I have always felt particularly ill-equipped. More often than not, as I’ve written about on occasion in this column, lack of prospects altogether takes care of this problem quite nicely. However, on those rare occasions that someone does come along, all bets are off!

This past week included one such situation. After deciding to sneak out on my night off to catch my Mary-Go-Round compatriot Cookie Dough host our weekly Wednesday night drag show at Lookout, a chance encounter found me nestled in the corner until closing time with a very attractive young man. We laughed, enjoyed conversation and kissed. Two days later, we met for lunch, spending several hours together repeating the process. It was extremely nice. (Should he read this, it’ll probably never happen again, but . . . well, what’s a girl to do?)

Anyway, in the days since, I’ve found myself thinking about it (and him) quite often. It’s kind of been making me a little crazy. And, once again, I’ve wondered whether or not I simply wasn’t given the instructions on how “normal people” do this dating thing. I absolutely, positively feel oblivious to how this whole process works!

Remarkably, and in stark contrast to larger social gathering, it’s not the actual time together that presents the biggest hurdle. It’s during the periods in-between when those old, nagging concerns about how to dress, act and who to be resurface in all their hideous glory. 

Once again, it’s during those moments – no matter how difficult it may seem – that I’m reminded it’s often simply a matter of trying to remain as true to myself as possible without putting my foot in my mouth. The best I can sometimes do is just relax, breath, enjoy the moment and see what unfolds. If I’d received that damn instruction book, I’m fairly sure that’s what it would say.

And again, my friends, that is what I call “growth.”

Follow “The Glamazon” at Facebook.com/PolloDelMark or Twitter.com/TheGlamazonPDM. Email Pollo_DelMar@Yahoo.com.