Scene Detail
"I tried to be a good sport. But I could never remember her name."
| From: the Thirst collection |
| Gender |
Age |
Character Name |
| Female |
Adult: Any Age |
ROZ |
Setup:
Roz is trying to understand her place on the romantic food chain.
(Part of the scene this speech is contained within, DENTS, is also available for viewing via the quote link "There are days I wish I hadn’t picked up that phone the second time and just ended up on his doorstep. See what happened.")
(Two other monologues follow this one for the complete romantic misadventures of Roz. They can be viewed via the quote links - (2) "...the thought of running my hands down into the small of his back still gives me chills" and (3) "I used to call it The Curse of Prince Charming.”)
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The full scripts of the plays "Invisible," "Dents," "Template," and "Head Above Water" from "The Thirst Collection" are available for purchase as part of "Short Plays, Volume 2" (in hard copy or download form) at
http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/short-plays-volume-2/1402397
Part of Matthew's online script store
http://stores.lulu.com/matthewaeverett
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Monologuecopyright 2004 by Matthew A. Everett
ROZ
I’ve come to the conclusion that I must be some kind of a human starter kit for guys on the verge of being ready to commit to a serious relationship.
Right after I moved here, there was this guy. Doug. We had everything in common. Same sense of humor. Partners in crime. Completely compatible. He made the transition easier. I spent more nights at his apartment that I did in my own. My place just seemed foreign to me, not like any home I’d had before. His place at least seemed lived in, like it had a history. It was safe. He was safe.
The one thing he neglected to tell me was that about the same time he met me, he also met someone else. It’s not like we were monogamous or anything. We were both free to screw around. Sometimes we did. But more often than not, I’d just be arranging my free time around him. Thing was, he didn’t talk about her. That should have been my first clue that something was up, that she was important. Complicated. Not a one-nighter that could be packaged into a little amusing story over dinner and forgotten about.
Sure I was kidding myself. I just figured if I hung around long enough, if he let me hang around long enough, he’d realize I was as essential to his life as he’d become to mine. But he didn’t. I was important. Just not important enough. Ultimately I just became some kind of last hurrah, a nod to the old life he planned to leave behind. A reminder of all the things that used to be that didn’t work for him anymore. I tried to be a good sport. But I could never remember her name. Just kept calling her “the photographer” - So, how are you and the photographer doing? I was trying to be devil-may-care about it all but it always ended up sounding bitter. And the sex and the friendship had been so intertwined right from the beginning that being friends without it, it was sort of like missing an arm or a foot. This constant feeling of something lost and incomplete. Friendship everywhere but the bedroom, which used to be so comfortable, was just awkward. Plus, I got the distinct feeling that he hadn’t told her about me - not how long it had gone on or how involved it had been the whole time he’d also been seeing her.
I got invited to parties for a few years at Christmas time, got the year-end holiday letter full of their life together - even though they only lived a couple of blocks away from me, in a house they bought together shortly after we broke up. Then finally that stopped, too. I see her work sometimes around town, the photographer - coffee shops, local newspapers and magazines, the occasional gallery. I keep thinking I’m going to run into him, or them. Probably best that I don’t. I was using him, too. He helped me settle into a new city. I just thought we were settling into something else, too.
copyright 2004 by Matthew A. Everett
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