Monologue For Young Adults 3: Secession (4/31)

[This is an installation in a series I began in 2017. Each stands alone as its own piece.]

Monologue 1: Housing --  Monologue 2: Green Thumb

So like… how married are we to this whole “United” thing? Cause in theory it’s cute, but in practice… I just don’t see it, just like how I’ll never see every state cause I value my life. In my mind, the divide is already there. Three nations: The west coast and those four corner states, that big ol dusty midwest and the filthy south, and finally us up here - the OG 13 states, minus and adding a couple states. Shut up, I know my constitution or whateva.

 I’m just saying, I’ve noticed the trend. The people of the coasts and the people of the swamps and dustbowls are built different. Hell, each state’s basically already doing what it wants to anyway. At least my idea of keeping them all together in three pieces is better than the chaos of fifty tiny nations making treaties amongst each other like Europe.  People already ran away from that system once.  

What’s keepin us together? Honestly? Resources? Oil? Ugh fuckin oil; I’m tired of dinosaur juice. Let’s go back to buying fuel for horses. Which would probably come from farmers in the Midwest. But if they hold food hostage, they’re just as fucked up as we thought. Honestly, I’ll miss Chicago, Atlanta, and Houston the most. Oooo, and New Orleans. Shit, ok. Definitely gotta establish some sort of embassy system for the decent metropolitan areas trapped in Reagania.  

What? Oh, now, I would never name them - I don’t wanna take away their agency or nothin’ -  but obviously the middle would name themselves after Reagan. They don’t like being too current and love to cherry pick history, so it just makes sense. The west could be cool and go with Portlandia or like Big Reno, but they’d be surprisingly boring and go with Western United. That’s why it’s up to us in the east to be original and go with Freedia. Listen, if we can convince the queen of bounce music herself to move up here, that’s just a plus.

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Sometimes I'm Single and I Weep, and Sometimes I'm Just Single

One of the worst parts about getting older, I've discovered, is watching your friends couple off. Maybe it's the increased maturity levels or perhaps people recognizing what they want, but more of my friends are dating than ever before. Sure I'm happy for them, but that doesn't mean I'm not bitter. These people used to have all the time in the world for our joint shenanigans. Now I have to wait in the wings until the 27 minute love scene is finished before I can have my moment on stage.

While I secretly want to break up everyone on Earth, I realize how insanely selfish that is. However, this doesn't stop me from showing distain anytime someone displays PDA. But I play my part. I give couples their space until I can join in their game of double dutch. There is no shame to my third- and fifth-wheel game, because two friends are better than none.

You would think with all the energy I put into being jealous I would attempt to find someone to date. I don't know how you came to that conclusion; it's wrong. I've been single for the entirety of my twenties - my, that was daunting to type and reread - and I've managed just fine. Having to care about someone else's emotions full time seems draining. [Remember how selfish I am?]

Then I think about having someone to care about me full time. Someone to always laugh with. Someone to tell me about their day. Someone to argue with and then run back to. Someone to hold me at night. Someone to disgust people with how cute we all. Then I go on Grindr and lose hope of every finding that because of slim pickings and vanity.

Perhaps I've conditioned myself to be content with singleness. I suppose it beats constantly whining. It's funny. I thought being gay would excuse me from the standard demands of dating expectations, but my mother and sisters have been bugging me about dating and having children just the same as if I subscribed to heteronormative culture. Sometimes I wish I did.

But that's life, I suppose. You're self-sufficient by choice or necessity until someone comes along and allows you to unload all of your baggage upon them while you hold theirs and you're both happy. I still don't totally grasp the concept, but I admire those who inspire me to believe it exists.

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