Second Verse, Same as the First: A Play in One Scene.
[Two women. One old conversation that is new again.]
[And by new, I stress new. As in, of recent weeks. Because you'll all have heard this fucking refrain before.]
me: WHY WHY WHY DOES SHE SUCK SO BADLY, AND WHY WHY WHY DO I CARE?
Caitlin: I think you care because you are an inveterate romantic.
me: Oh fuck, don't go wishing that on me.
Caitlin: You deserve better. No judgment on her as a person (although you know which way my suspicions lean there), but you deserve to be treated better than she has treated you.
me: Thank you. Again. I think so too, but it's just... sometimes they get under your skin, and then it's hard to dig them out. And I swear I've got an innate sensor that's gone wrong and lets the wrong ones in.
Caitlin: I know. That's why you have people like me! To remind you of the stuff you're willing to put aside.
me: Every time I think I've got it sussed, that I've finally found someone who's Got It Together, she turns out to be just like all the others. And then I start sounding like That Girl and I hate myself a little more.
Caitlin: Dude, everyone has been there. Making excuses for someone because they have gotten under their skin, making allowances for them, letting yourself accept less than you deserve.
me: I wonder what it is. What causes that. Because I feel like we're all smarter than that.
Caitlin: It's at those times you need friends to remind you that you are awesome, and deserve someone who is going to treat you right and make you a priority... of course, maybe you shouldn't listen to me on that, as I will probably die alone due to my stubborn determination to settle for nothing less than true love. I'm a sucker.
me: It's not stubborn. It's Homeric.
Caitlin: Hubristic?
me: Heh. No, that's what my friend Anthony told me right before I left Sydney. That my life would always be a quest because I'm always going to be looking for the right job, the right girl, the right home. Not just whatever's there. Not settling. Except that it ended up sounding a bit dire, and I wasn't really consoled.
Caitlin: I keep looking for jobs, and every once in a while, it occurs to me that many people-probably most people-get that they may not like their job and are OK with that, and maybe I should just look for anything, instead of just things I want to do. But I am the way I am. I want to do work that I care about doing. Etc.
me: It's all the same, really. And it's wise, and true. But it's a real bitch.
Caitlin: Yeah, no comfort there. But I don't feel inclined to compromise on those things. Much as that might end me up alone and miserable.
me: You're right not to.
Caitlin: Well, of course you're going to say that. You're as bull-headed as I am!
me: Natch. But if I don't support you in making that right choice - and it is the right one - I'll never have a hope of supporting myself in making it.
Caitlin: Moral of the story: Confuso would be a compromise. And she's mean.
me: SHE IS MEAN! Like, that was a really mean thing to do, right? Fuck her and all her noise.
Caitlin: Yeah. She can suck it.
me: Damn RIGHT she can. Besides, I have a date with a lawyer on Saturday. Who's cute and funny and thinks my sarcasm is AWESOME.
Caitlin: That's the spirit!
me: YEAH. And I'm going to sword-dance the FUCK out of some Röyksopp this weekend, just to piss her off.
me: (Okay, I'm not sure how it would piss her off, seeing as she won't know about it, but the hell with logic. I'm ANGRY.)
Caitlin: That's quite a sentence! Picture that out of context. It would be like your overheard thing.
me: Oh my god, it would! The Ultimate Stompie!
Caitlin: Yes! That!
me: I feel much better now. Thank you.
Caitlin: Any time.
me: I will try not to bore you with stories of her anymore.
Caitlin: Hey, if you need to, you go ahead. That way, I can remind you that she is MEAN.
me: Yeah she is. Evil Dr Confuso. Meanie.
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