Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Regret Monologue

So Em’s asked me the other day if I remembered what my first time was like. And I had to really think about it for a minute. Holy shit it’s been so long, and it seemed so far away like a mushroom trip from freshman year of high school. Oh Ricky. I lost my virginity freshman year to Ricardo, Ricardo… Ricar… what the fuck is his last name? Fuck I don’t believe I can’t remember his last name. Fucking weed. God I was so nervous but so was he. He was actually trembling and breathing like he had just sprinted to my house the moment I agreed to give him my virginity. He was so delicate like I was a dandelion. You know when they are all white like a blow ball and just a small breath could blow off all seeds off. He was that gentle. No ass smacking, no erotic asphyxiation, no handcuffs, no blow or weed, none of that shit. Everything he did was so amazing. Each touch, each kiss was like being touched on E. I mean when he was caressing my back and started kissing down my stomach it felt Incredible. Better than the sloppy drunken sex I have been having. Back then it was all so new and exciting and we just fit, like the first time we held hands and interlocked out fingers. When the foreplay finally ended and we started to have sex, everything stopped and it was like we were stealing time and we were never going to get caught, just Ricky and me in our own universe. I don’t remember the sex being like San Francisco earthquake-sex, decimating cities. But that didn’t mattered because we had this badass emotional connection. Just when we looked at each other it was different, the kind of connection that can only survive through innocence and ignorance. I miss that and I don’t at the same time. But the more I think about it the more I’m like, I really want feel like that again. I want to lose my breath and tingle again without being bent over my futon. (without putting my cervix through an mma fight.) I want to be nervous. I want to have those intense stares that make me blush and my eyes water. But how do you go back? It’s like heroin, the first high is best and you can never get that high ever again. That’s why the Chinese called it chasing the dragon but dragons don’t exist. So you keep chasing dragons and doing more drugs until finally your heart stops beating and your eyes don’t close. I don’t know what I want but I do know what I don’t want, I don’t want to be high anymore.

1 comment:

  1. Notes from Roy:
    A very interesting contrast to what has come before. The sincere sentiment and regret for the thrill and innocence of what has been lost gives us huge new insights into this character. With aggressive posturing and cynicism put aside for a few minutes we get a deep look at the vulnerabilities of this character.

    Which makes us wonder how those might play out in the present times of the play? It makes us question - just what is the nature of this life of bar pick-ups and angry aftermaths? Is there some deep-seated search going on? Something that's more romantic, and still tinged with idealism? What is the nature of this character's emotional journey? Not the one she presents publicly, but the hidden one that she hides? That's good dramatic territory to explore.