Monologue for Young Adults

Yeah but she’s 25. Twenty-fucking-five. Do you realize the embarrassment I had to hide when she told me she was closing on buying a house? Not selling a house but buying one. A house to make a home. By herself. And yeah, she’s looking for a roommate so she won’t be lonely, but that roommate will be paying their rent to her! And she’s 25. What am I doing wrong with my life? How is this person that entered high school when I started college doing better than me? You see, this is why I have to stop dating younger. Older. The sugar mamas, that’s what I need. Someone to take care of my broke, paycheck-to-paycheck ass. A nice, tender old thing to finance my hopes and dreams, just let me lay around the house in nothing but silk underwear after I come home from the gym so I can look sexy on their arm when they want to flaunt me. Because let’s face it, Jonas, buying a house was never part of the plan unless I struck it big. Or someone I dated liked me enough to start a family and then we’d figure out a way to pay for a place in the suburbs, probably owing our lives to some bank until our grandkids are old enough to get drafted. I think that’s the other thing that’s blowing my mind: I didn’t even know single people our age were buying houses, let alone could afford them. Engaged and married couples, sure, but what single person knows that they want to stay in one place for at least ten years? Sure you can sell and I suppose owning is better than renting, but the sheer responsibility of having that much money saved up or having credit that decent - nay- good… Is it too late for me? Will I always be this artist working in the service industry hoping to be discovered for the rest of my life? And don’t even mention grad school to me, because I don’t have the money nor the patience for a place like that. So yeah, I guess this is it. I’ll lower my standards. From now on, if a person on a date mentions some big purchase, I’m just gonna ask for the check, shake  their hand, and leave the restuarant. They can afford a sailboat, they can afford my half of the meal. I’ll put that money into a savings account and pretend like I’ll have enough for a mobile home someday until I break down and buy the next Nintendo to distract me from my woes. Because Mario may get new powers, but he’ll never earn enough on that plumber’s salary if he keeps chasing that girl. At least that’s relatable.