SHORT PLAY: DOM and COCO.

Just tell me one thing, please: During that month I waited for you. How many people asked you out? Did you ever say “yes”?

What’s it matter to you?

Oh, God. I can’t believe it. I cannot FUCKING BELIEVE it.

I said YES. I have that RIGHT.

Within the month… or the following month… after I told you? Sorry: I should be specific. That sounds like “within the month after I told you, or the following month.” I don’t mean all THREE months. I mean [sternly] WITHIN THE MONTH I TOLD YOU, or ONLY THE MONTH AFTER.

Well so WHAT?

I WAITED FOR YOU. All that time. Five months I knew you. I LEFT THE HOUSE only to SEE you! SEVEN times I met with you! HOURS EACH time!

So WHAT?

SO I thought it MEANT something. There is just NO WAY. NO WAY IN… How do you LIVE with yourself? Does he know?

Who?

Or she. About me.

NO.

Both: Of course not.

Because this DOES NOT HAPPEN. He would not LET IT HAPPEN. Some guy I never even HEARD about. Or someone that you told me you were OVER.

You don’t OWN me. You do not CONTROL MY…

YOU fucking CONTROLLED MY LIFE. Why ELSE would you have me sit out in PUBLIC for HOURS with you? You manipulative B—

So WHAT? So I got you out of your PARENTS’ HOUSE…

FOR NOTHING. It was all about YOU. ALL of it. You did not give a FUCK about me. All those people: God. Why do you need so many FUCKING PEOPLE? And what? I am not supposed to KNOW about them? How many people are a part of this, any way? This RUSE that I am not supposed to TALK about for FEAR it MIGHT UPSET YOU?

I don’t KNOW! I don’t keep TRACK…

Oh, yeah. Okay. You don’t keep track. WOW. Okay then.

Dominic…

No. You know what? This is crazy. I could NEVER fucking REBOUND…

Woah.

… and tell it to the girl’s FACE…

I did not REBOUND.

She would KNOW. She’d SEE my DESPERATION. And she’d KNOW it was IMMORAL. That she couldn’t DO that to my EX…

We didn’t even DATE!

I don’t give a DAMN about the LABELS you assign to this. You are only USING THEM in order to CONTROL me. I TECHNICALLY have only ONE ex, from SEVEN YEARS ago. Almost Eight. But fuck it. You’re my ex. Arianna’s my ex. Even the bartender at Plan Z Alehouse is my Ex…

You are psychotic.

I am TWENTY-SIX YEARS OF AGE. I SHOULD have had that many relationships. And you know what? I DID. But manipulative NARCISSISTS like you DENY it. You think he… or she? Would be DATING you right now if he or she KNEW about ME?

YES.

THEN WHY HIDE ME? HUH? Why make all these RULES? “Oh, you’ll be my friend forever.” “Oh, don’t let my friends SEE you.” “Oh, now you’re my friend again, but SOMEHOW I EXPECT YOU STILL TO KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT.” What the FUCK? I only tried to GET you to keep your APPOINTMENTS. Now you’re FUCKING someone ELSE?

We did not FUCK.

Yeah, right. You know: you stood me up seven times in one months’ time. Like I can trust a single goddamn word out of your mouth. You know: sooner or later, this cunt, and I mean that in a gender-neutral way… he’ll find out. About me. And every one. And this sick game you play. And then… then that will be just one more person who KNOWS.

Fuck you.

Indeed.

Dm.A.A.