Pleasure Party

[monologue] 

I think I fell off the train. Fell off..? Fallen off? Have fallen?  I’ve off the train. Or rather… I might have jumped off the 

train. Yeah, let’s go with that: I jumped off the train. I’m done. Outta the race. Sitting on the side lines, white flag in the air. 

It started with the gym. Not the worst problem to have, right? Wrong. At school, on campus, going to the gym isn’t just about being healthy and not feeling fat. Noo – here, it’s about walking around these girls who are always wearing teeny tiny shorts and bright neon crop tops and exercising in their sports bra and going out in these super super tight dresses because appearances matter. And sweet Jesus if I have to hear one more conversation of “oh, what label is that?” I swear to god…. But it doesn’t stop at appearances. There’s so much pressure to be good at EVERYTHING. To be athletic and in shape and pretty, but also really good in school and get A’s, but also able to hang out with the boys and be cool and not too prissy. So if you falter, or if you mess up, or if you’re talking to a guy and you say one thing he doesn’t like he can just brush you away because there are FIVE more girls who can take your place. And if you don’t want to go up to his room, there are probably TEN more girls at this party alone he can choose from, OR he can wait and go to the Jug and pick from TWENTY more girls. But UGH now you’re at the Jug when all you really wanted was to meet someone you find interesting and have an actual conversation but 7 drinks later and you’re all “heeey, you’re so funny” and puke on their shoes, so now you’re dancing to whatever top 40 song John Jug is playing but it’s claustrophobic and there’s that couple right behind you making sweet sweet love on the dance floor and then that one guy with vomit on his shirt decides it’s totally acceptable to put his hands up your shirt and you can’t even see his face cuz he came up behind you when he started groping you and the next morning you wake up and think “ugh I wish I had smacked him in the face or hurled all these witty insults at him” but at the time all you could manage was “wait whaaaat…..?” and then you puke on his shoes too.) And I’m tired. I’m tired all the time. I’m 21 

and I’m tired already. How can I…? I can’t. I quit. I can’t. 

But do you see why there’s so much competition around here? I know I compare myself to other girls all the time; even to my best friends, to my best friends, but something about Colgate makes it worse. Between you and me, I have a hunch that there are a certain number of guys here that are considered attractive, or a viable option. And why we’re always comparing yourself with other girls …for the attention of men! 

 can I tell you a secret? It’s terrible. ok, it’s awful but I think the times I’ve felt best about myself are when I get attention from a guy- which I KNOW is terrible. I mean my brain is shocked! It immediately goes into 

 “you don’t need validation from men”, “you are beautiful no matter what”, “you are a wonderful and rare lotus and there is no one else like you” mode and yeah yeah yeah I get it but it’s SO hard! And all for what? What is this grand pay off? It could all be bullshit! but sometimes I need that. And I really want to get to a place where I don’t. So I’m trying… but it’s hard. 

You know, that’s probably why I haven’t had an incredibly 

pleasurable sexual experience yet. Like I’m talking about an out of this world, everyone’s feeling so good about themselves, and each other, and there are millions of orgasms everywhere kind of pleasure. Like a pleasure party! Haven’t had one of those – and this is coming from someone who loooves sex. In high school it was “oh my god are we gonna get in trouble? Is that the sound of my garage door opening?”, college happened and now it’s “what’s he think?? Is he judging me? Is my roommate gonna wake up??”, and there’s always the classic “is this right? Do I look fat from this angle? Where exactly is my g-spot…?” 

People seem to view the word “comfort” as something negative or boring, but I’ve always been a fan of it. Feeling safe, and appreciated, and desirable… something about it… gives me pleasure. So my “goal in life”, if you will, is to achieve this one day. To have this pleasure party. 

Some day. 

It’s funny how much things have changed since freshman year. If you had asked my freshman self what things she wanted – sexually – out of this school, she would’ve said something like “hook up with a guy in every frat” or something stupid like that.  so naïve… little old me… She thought in order to survive this 

school she had to play by its rules, so she expected and got the worst. She braced herself to put up with way more than she should, so her little heart was broken for many seconds of many days for many years. 

 If I saw her now I would shake her. Wouldn’t even try to talk to her, just grab her by the shoulders and shake. I would shake her so hard until she stopped, even for a moment, looked around and really thought about what it is she wants from this school. Sexually and socially. Things would be so different. 

I’m still infected by what other people think but it’s getting better. I’m working on being ok with me. I mainly just want to make it out of here alive. In the meantime, I’ve jumped off the train. You can wave at me through the window. Gallantly and triumphantly out of the race. 

It has to get better after this. It has to. Otherwise I don’t know what I’m gonna do. But I’m hopeful. 

I’m in search of my pleasure party. I’ll see you there.

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Written by unknown, found in the 2016 script