Valentine's Day Monologue

FEMALE MONOLOGUE

Here we go again, Valentine’s Day.  The Hallmark holiday, the diamond dealer’s wet dream, kitchy jewelry from upscale department stores, red tea cozies, satin sheets (singing)  These are a few of my favorite things!  These are a few of my favorite THINGS!  (flinging purse against chairs, table)  THESE ARE A FEW…oh whatever.  Last year I made a pact with myself that someone would find me before the next Valentine’s Day.  I imagined that I would be one; half of that couple staring into each other’s eyes at the French restaurant.  Hell, I even bought satin sheets at 50% off the Norman price.  No option for returning.  It was just me in purgatory with my red sheets until he found me.  It was taking a while, four months into the waiting I decided I needed to lose some weight, freshen up my looks.  So I power-walked through my neighborhood every day, a mile, two miles.  One day I started running for part of it until I cramped up so bad that I was bent over in a gutter, swearing and choking on my own liver or something.  And that’s when I thought, okay, I’ve gone my fifty percent, now he’s got to come his.  So I went home and I just went about my life.  Did the daily grind.  Watched a LOT of recorded Oprah, so I could fast forward through the damn commercials.  I even got into an Oprah Book Club.  I read some really good books there, and I met some people, but they were mostly older married women who wanted to save their souls with Oprah’ sweet inspiration.  Gag.  Save us, Oprah!  We are all bored out of our minds, Oprah!

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