A Monologue

When you have loved… and lost.

Every guy at some point in his life is confronted with the worst problem: sex. Specifically, the opposite one. Men have for years attempted to analyze women. See what makes them tick. What gets them ticked. Philosophers for centuries tried to get inside a woman’s mind, only to find themselves maddened at the prospect. All that philosophy and what we got to show for it? Nada, zip, zilch. Only wonderful sayings like, “Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned.” “I’ve got PMS and I’m not afraid to use it.” And “Life’s a bitch, then you marry one.” Hehehe… soon to be followed by another popular bumper sticker, “Shit happens.”

* * * * *

(Stands from chair, lights up. Man speaking is about 30+ years old. Moderate build, black, shot-cropped hair, hasn’t shaved in several days. He is dressed in an unbuttoned button up shirt and slacks. He is holding a paper disposable Figaro coffee cup, and is wearing glasses. He begins pacing.)

The thing I don’t get is that despite all the people’s heralding her as the more logical, compassionate, and reasonable version of Adam, Eve’s sure got problems. You see, (Sips the coffee) my main problem in love isn’t a lack thereof, just the wrong kind. Because there are two parts to a relationship: emotional and physical. And no, for those of you with your minds in the gutter, I’m not talking about sex. Just the other physical parts, like holding hands and kissing. You know, physical contact without going “all the way”? (Pauses) Then there’s the emotional part. How well do the two of you get along, or “click” together. Do you share common interests? (Begins pacing again)

I have met many women who could satisfy me physically, fooling around with friends, one-nighters and what-have-you. And for a while my needs of the body were met as I bounced around, not really attached to anyone. (Pauses) Yet the mind is left yearning. (Sits down, sets the coffee cup on the floor next to his chair on the left and sighs)

I have met but few who could satisfy me emotionally, women with great thoughts and ambitions. And for a great time the needs of the mind were met. For these wonderful, few, emotionally compatible women are so rare to me, (Sits forward and grasps the air in front of him with both hands) that I hold onto them tightly for as long as I can. (Sits back again) My last girlfriend and I dated for four years and a half. Before that, I dated a girl twice for six months each time. Yet while the mind is intrigued, (Stands, takes off glasses and proceeds to clean them on his shirt) the body hungers. (Shrugs, puts glasses back on)

And so I eventually move on, (paces) and I’m left having to choose between being satiated and empty, or intrigued and anxious. (Pauses, parroting self) For while “I have met many women who could satisfy me physically”, and “few who could satisfy me emotionally”, (sits) I have yet to find a single one capable of both. (Eyes fall to floor) Except… (Chokes off in a sob, covers face in hands) Oh gods. (Violently stands up and turns his back to audience, unseen he pulls a bottle of eye drops from his breast pocket, administers it to his cheeks, and returns it to the pocket, then turns back to audience, apparently crying)

I take it back, there was one. One wonderful girl full of self-damnation. Rests hand on back of chair) I met her in senior high, and we were friends through college. (Looks down, grins) We were a little more than that about half the time. (Looks up suddenly, as if remembering something) She had soft, curly, red hair. (Nods to himself) I remember that best of all. (Smiles broadly) This bright, vibrant red that smelled like flowers! (Excited) So soft, so warm, so alive! (Laughing, he sits)

And being a redhead, she had the stereotypical spark of fire in her personality. She was beautiful, and smart, and funny, and (his smile abruptly fades) I had the misfortune of being her “best friend”. I was her matchmaker, shoulder-to-cry-on, love-adviser, and generally her friend-in-rough-times. (Stands) Even after she quit college late in her junior year, we remained friends. (Paces)

My role as her best friend was OK with me until around our sophomore year, when I started to have feelings for her. It took me a whole year to actually tell her how I felt. One day on the bus, I just laid it out for her. (Stops) She turned me down softly. (Pause, resume pacing) I was hurt, but I did recover. A long while passed before we spoke again. (Sits)

Predictably it was her calling me with questions of her love life. We got to be close again, and again predictably, my heart began to twinge. Finally I asked her, and she thought on it heavily. In the time it took for her to think it over, I felt tortured. As if a cold hand gripped my heart. In agony I waited, and my perseverance was rewarded. For when the wait was over, she accepted me! (Jumps up, excited) My world exploded in joy, and I was so blindly happy, (grows somber, looks down at his feet) I never saw it coming. (Sits, staring at floor, after a bit looks agitated, then pounds his thigh with his fist and looks up angrily)

You know, I keep wondering when she will get it through her head, I LOVE HER. (Whips glasses off) I have always loved her. (Stands) For the past five years, I have devoted my heart to her. She’s been my waking thought, the thought my mind turns to when idle, and my final thought each day. (Grows very sad) I have devoted my mind, body, and soul to her, and for three brief shining days, she returned my affections. (Smiles, happy at the memory) We smiled, we laughed, and we had joy. (Advances towards nearest female audience member, holds out hands, cupped, to her) She came upon me smiling, cradled my heart in her hands. In her twin palms she held all of me. (Backs away) Everything I am, ever was, and ever shall become at her fingertips. (Stops, looks down at hands, then screws up face in anger and rips them away and back) Then with one violent yank, my heart sprang free, still beating from my chest, (gestures with cupped hands toward audience) this vile vessel that dared allow entry to one such as she. (Violently separates hands and lifts them upward) She tears my heart in two, and thrusts it back in my face. And behind her veils of sorrow and self-pity, she laughs. (Kneels, sad) And as my bruised, battered, and much remanded cardiovascular atrocity lies on the ground before me, I wonder that I do not hurt.

I kneel there numb before my very own heart, (gestures before him) and yet I feel no pain! Then it came to me. Everything I had within me, I gave to her. When she fled in mock self-preservation, I had nothing left. I was empty, a mere shell of a man. (Stands, paces) First I counted such a thing a blessing, this numbness. I thought myself lucky. (Stops, looks ready to cry) Then it came back. Slowly it drifted back to me. (Sits, leans back and close eyes) And as each strand of feeling tore the stoic casing in which I’d locked my heart away, the agony began anew. (Sits forward violently, opening eyes) As fingers of fire raked across my mind, in my bed I wept. (Grows quiet, stands up slowly) Creeping from my bed, my fingers flew to my keyboard, and slowly I began to feel again. (Looks out across audience)

The moral to this story is a simple one. Literature, movies, poetry, they all teach us falsely. Disney lied to us when he told us that whenever the world kicks us in the groin, friendly dwarves, forest creatures, or some odd twist of fate would set things aright. Society tells us that love conquers all, that in the end, everything will always turn out for the best. Bullshit! This is real life. (Bows out, lights down)