Emma
A Monologue - Written and Performed by Zora Lewiz Link
Monologue/Mini One-Woman Play
FULL TEXT:
So this is about a month into the thing with Emma. When I say “thing” I mean we’ve been hooking up behind her husband’s back. I know. Poor dumbass. Or not, I don’t know. His name’s Micheal. I’ve never met him. All I know is he’s gone a lot. They both have about ten years on me, no kids though.
So it’s very late at night, we’re up in bed drinking some dry ass red wine. Not talking about anything important, I’m just rambling, saying stuff like
“I’ve kinda got no societal purpose.”
She looks at me funny. “That’s a bit harsh.”
“True though. Since I’m not a viable sexual prospect for the people running the place. It’s kind of like I don’t really exist.”
“I thought lesbians were the most liberated of us all.”
(Laughs)
“You know there is a certain kind of etiquette that commands me to pretend that I believe you are straight. (Beat.) Even though you’re probably not the type that would kick my teeth in for saying otherwise.”
“No, I like your teeth. (Beat) Men probably still find you attractive though, you’re pretty.”
Am I?
Is she?
I don’t find her particularly pretty.
I mean, she’s old and she has these rough lines in her face.
You can tell life’s fucked her up already.
The thing is, I’m not really that bothered about pretty. Or nice, for that matter.
I wonder if Michael tells her she is pretty, though, as often men don’t get distinctly more creative beyond that word. Then again, neither does she.
So no, she’s not pretty or particularly kind.
(Beat.)
“I don’t think I’m a very decent person.”
“Where does that come from?”
“If I was, I probably wouldn’t be doing this?”
(giving in) “Then why are you?”
“I got nothing better to do.”
Anyways, pretty soon after that we got busy, and then it didn’t matter anymore.
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