Yes

I love you so much.

Sucks to be you,. Huh?

Huh?

I don’t love you.

How can you not love me when I love you?

Because I’m not stupid.

I beg to differ.

Excuse me?

We’re both good-looking.

Speak for yourself.

You don’t think I’m attractive?

No.

How come?

I just don’t.

Be specific.

What is this a creative writing class? I don’t have to be specific.

Well most people think I’m handsome.

Who are most people, your poor Mother?

No. Everyone I have ever asked has said I was good-looking.

They just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

No, I’m sexy!

Keep deluding yourself.

I don’t love you anymore.

Oh, damn!

And I’ll never love you anymore. I’m going to act all aloof now. (Tries to act aloof) I was joking, my love! I need to be with you! I love being treated like s**t, it’s all I know. I don’t want to be loved or wanted or validated- I just want a pretty girl with some intelligence and talent to tell me to go f**k myself

How much therapy are you in need of?

That’s not the point.

Really. Analysis. A hobby. Friends. Ummm an education of some sort. Maybe a life. Those are just some things you need before you can have anything resembling a happy and healthy relationship./

No. No. I know for certain that I love you.

I’ve never said anything nice to you.

But don’t you love men that beat you and call you names and never give you respect, and control you all the time?

Oh, yeah. I’m fucked up too.

No, we just want what we can’t have.

Did you have to drag out that old cliché?

Well, maybe that “old cliché” as you put it is actually a truth. Maybe all those proverbs and stupid little sayings actually tell us what matters in this world and what is good and true and just and right, and all that s**t, you know?

I need to leave.

And go where? To an abusive alpha male?

Well maybe he’ll at least be good in bed. Are you good in bed?

As though I could ever get to bed.

Right.

Don’t go, please. Please give me a chance. Love me. I’m so pathetic I need to be loved, or I might just continue to talk about how I loathe myself and how I wish I were dead.
How romantic. I love you now.

Oh, I am so happy!

Yeah, it’s a shame I was being sarcastic though.

(She exits.)

I’ll never love again! (He sings “I’m Thru With Love” or “I’ll Never Smile Again” or some great song of lost love. I don’t know enough music to give you a plethora of suggestions, you m***********s. Do some research yourself. I hate writing stage directions, be creative, have a vision, you ditto heads. As I was saying, he should sing this song most dreadfully.)

(But then, another woman should enter. She is also pathetic and forlorn and unattractive and no one wants to talk to her because she is a freak and she just sucks. She should go blow her brains or get a life but instead she’ll complain of how unfortunate she is as a human being. I hate people so much.)

Oh, No! No one loves me and I will die alone! I must go home and put this as my Facebook status.

No, don’t! For I will love you.

How and why would you ever love me?

Because I am desperate and horny!

Wondereful! I love you too!

Oh. You love me back?

Yes. Madly. Passionately. Forever and ever. I will never cease loving you! I love you!

Oh. Umm, well, I think we should see other people.

What happened to our love?>

It was too convenient. No one ever wants to be in love with a person that loves them back especial;ly when you look the way we do.,

You don’t think I’m pretty?

No, you were right when you said no one loves you and you’ll die alone.

You used me! Now I must return home and tweet this!

(She exits.)

Well, what’s left?

(A man enters with a script. He doesn’t give a s**t, he just wants this play to end because it is so cynical and ridiculous as the majority of this playwright’s works are…. Wait a minute… I, the author have returned… my smart-a*s assistant… Yes I can afford an assistant, has been f*****g around with my material saying I’m not a genuis, apparently. I just fired that sack of s**t. Good riddance. Anyway, this man enters and doesn’t give a s**t because this play blows. He will be reading a part of a man that falls in love but will never let the other man knows he’s in love with him because he might lose him. What an awful part to play. And why? The eternal question: Why?)

Oh Hello.

Hello. I’m in love with you.

Of course you are. You’ll never know if I’m in love with you.

Oh. That might work.

Of course it’ll work. It’s in the f**k… I mean, yes, yes, you will never know but I think we should spend the rest of our days together,…. Because, well, I think it’ll work. You game?

Of course I am. I would never have thought it would turn out I was gay though.

Yeah. Weird stuff. Weird stuff. What, is this the end of this travesty?

(Curtain. Yes, it is. Yes, it is.)