Monologues for Women and Men | Complete Monologues | by Gabriel Davis - Monologue Genie

It's your content

dating monologue

Next day she shows up at my dorm. But those golden tunes he lays down, they come at a price. I closed my eyes and imagined myself filled with light and the cook filled with peanut butter. Does he have our chin? My heart started pounding but it did not explode.

Authentic English

Did she say something about me? Cathy addresses her friend Lynne Smile! A, I can be unhappy to be here or B, I can be happy to be here. Aside from the everyday you and me, celebrities have been targets of stolen profiles. That's around the time some of the relatives said it seemed insensitive of me to go and play air basketball in the mud room with everyone else trying to mourn and pay their respects and honestly I don't even care. You want us out in the streets? You resent that I keep that wrapper with me always, the only words we have of our father's.

Lin was on fire and you know- My dad would have been pumped. Mom had this dinner in honor of him and I I said I felt sick so I could stay home and watch the game. Before Lin even made it to the NBA, my dad saw back in the day.

Dad followed college ball too and knew how good Lin was at Harvard. When Lin first made it to the NBA and was struggling a bit, dad would talk about how Lin just hadn't found his stride yet but he had greatness inside. Dad and I could talk about basketball for hours. So I guess that's why I I just don't want to stop talking about basketball you know? To be honest, as long as I'm shootin' air hoops in the mud room and cuttin' up with Arnie, and watching the games like a religion That's what they all can't understand.

They all want to be sad he's gone, see? I'm with him, I'm keeping him with me. I'm not going to stop talking about or watching basketball.

They think I need this A student asked for an example of a monologue inspired by the character of Miss Havisham from Dickens' classic "Great Expectations. The horrid sick little boy. That's what he was. When cicadas mate, they rub their little spindly legs together quickly and the noise of thousands of them rubbing their little legs all at the same time fills the night with a sort of music.

But if you look closely it's just so many disgusting little bugs. That night, the night I'd freeze my clocks forever, you could hear their chant. My bridesmaid Althea said it was an omen, the beginning of the new life I was about to embark upon. Her uncle teased her it was just the season. And then we waited until a message arrived that he would not be embarking in any journey with me.

It was too much to take. I had this nervous habit of tearing at the skin on my hand. I had scratched it raw this night. And when I knew that he had left me, pierced my heart this beautiful perfect angel of a boy.. I ran into the night as if he were out there calling to me from the trees. I grabbed a small one, small tree with small thin trunk not yet strong and I wanted to destroy it. To tear it from the ground and expose it's roots. I shook and shook and shook it. And the cicadas began to fall all about me.

On my hair and even in my mouth. I was one of these bugs. I was hideous and the boy had seen that. But he was hideous too. And for what he had done I would squash young little Pip like vermin. A young actress auditioning for her school requested a monologue for a 15 year old. With that broad request, I decided to make the piece about being not quite old enough to drive.

Dad, you will let me take the car myself. I can three point turn, parallel park, and I observe the traffic laws like a religion. This is so unfair. They started talking to me. Because, they needed a ride to the dance. It was well thought out. I will be marked, mocked, and probably shunned. My entire high school experience will become hell.

This is how things go. Just go to sleep. You have a fever you know. You need your rest. Right before mom gets back. My life depends on it. So I'm in my yoga class. Our instructor tells us to get into Sukhasana. Sit cross legged basically. He tells us we should feel relaxed and at home in the pose. I heard of this blogger in the city called the Farting Yogi.

All she does is visit yoga classes and fart bomb them. Then she "exposes" the people who are not zen with it all. I'm pretty sure she's directly to my left. Her downward dog smells like downward dog doo doo. So, our teacher decides to start with a healthy round of kundalini breathing. It's called Breath of Fire and my nose feels like its on fire! But the smell of shitsky is breaking my Drishti!

I peer around the room and I'm not the only one. A few people are actually getting up with their mats and leaving. He says, "in yoga, we extend compassion to our fellow beings. We put ourselves in their shoes. If the smell in here seems harmful, imagine how holding that smell inside must have felt.

A few more people follow her. The instructor continues "today, let's support each other, let's not keep our painful, smelly winds inside. Let's do the wind relieving pose together to release them! Basically, you lay on your back and use your leg as a pump to force all the farts out. The sounds and smells that ensued were nothing short of horrible and nightmarish.

As if the entire rooms were enveloped in a disgusting brown fog. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the source of all of this smiling broadly. She was enjoying it!

But I didn't want to be one of those non-compassionate people who stormed out. I was determined to stick in there with whatever this was becoming.

So I tried, I tried to accept everyone's farts. I repeated our instructor's words "May all beings be happy, all beings be free. I tried to lose track of where my farts end and everyone else's begin. I tried to be one with the farts and accept them. My path to enlightenment will not be paved with farts. I did not end up enlightened, only nauseous. Jill addresses Andrew, who is obsessed with Marisa Ugh, you sound just like Brandon. You know, for two years, I beg him to transfer here, so we can be together.

Beat Suddenly, he changes his tune. What do you mean? You and I are together. Did she say something about me? Jill is speaking to "Benny," a tomboy, and her "second best friend. And after she told me, she … tried to kiss me. Well she did kiss me. Benny asks if there was tongue. Yeah, there was tongue.

What could I say? Do it after we make love. In actuality I freaked out. I ran the hell out of there. Next day she shows up at my dorm.

She says, it was really hard coming out to me the way she did. And you know what. And considering one of those boys was my boyfriend..

She enjoys the attention. Beatrice, a tomboy who goes by the nickname "Benny", is speaking to her guy friends about how she is "more man" than they are. You think a ding dong makes you a man? I grill meats on my grill every weekend. I slather it with homemade sauce. Do they allow me to grill in the dorms? A man grills where he wants to grill.

Look, boys I need you to listen, and listen good. Man-ness is about grit and maturity and toughness. Now, let me show you sissies some Practical Magic. Swings Marisa back and kisses her deep and long. Marisa's leg goes up. Hey Marisa, you can call me Bernice. Sorry … sorry, Jill … just had to have a moment of glory.

You guys are cute together. If anything ever changes. I just want her. I have to have her. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! You throw out a net. We have got a White Whale on our hands, boys! Marisa is like a white whale. Like in Moby Dick, Chuck. Just call me Ishmael! Ahab was the guy chasing after the White Whale? Just call me Ahab! Livi tells her husband Pax about one of the few times in her childhood she felt her father actually "saw" her.

For some reason, my guidance counselor took an interest in me. But she entered me in a local beauty pageant. Bought me a nice dress, and some makeup and everything. Got me all dolled up Pax tells her to "go on" Beat Well, the night of the pageant came — and she tried to get my dad there. And they gave me this tiara. I remember getting home and being so proud — and there was Dad, sitting on his Lazy-Boy, watching something funny on TV, 'cause he was laughing — just really in a good mood.

Well, I just waited, patiently, until the commercial. Then I walked up to him, tapped him on the shoulder, ever so lightly, and showed him my tiara — my crown. Are you my little Miss Universe? He was looking right at me. This monologue is from the play Dreams in Captivity , available in print and digital editions. Reina and Barry have been having some marital tension lately; ever since she enrolled for a class about space at community college.

In this scene, she cuts their intimate time together short to do some homework, using "the clapper" to get the lights on quickly. Barry does not understand her new found dreams of space and is a little jealous of her obvious infatuation with her professor, Robert I have to finish my homework.

The lights come on Ah, that's better. My teacher, Robert, is brilliant. Well, everyone is on a first name basis with him. We all call him Robert. She begins hanging his shirts. Several are already haphazardly folded. She picks these up and will hang them as well during the following. All you wanna do is sit on your ass and watch TV, these stupid reruns, and eat pretzels. So anyway, he gave the class this homework. That we should think about how we could each help the cause.

Yes, Barry, an astronaut. Livi speaks to her husband Pax, who is in a wild manic state, packing their things to move immediately to L. He imagines himself as a restaurateur, Livi as an actress. Livi wants to calm her husband down, to get him to come to bed and forget the dream I mean, there may be no tomorrow and you may have missed today in some desperate, frenetic, striving frenzy. I like the people at the retirement home.

Their time is limited and they know it. They have a palpable sense of their limits. And they know how to enjoy the moment. They sit together, all day, hand in hand, just breathing, staring at the TV. Yes Pax … like just two bodies Sure, yes love can do that but it can also make you calm, centered, at peace, contented.

Is that really what I want for us? I just want us to be fulfilled. Tonight we can just take a breath.

Take a step back. Not give in forever. Pax … just … come to bed. Pax, an aspiring restaurateur, pleads with his wife, a talented actress, to come with him to L.

You think this is childish? I know, you think even if we go And maybe you're right, but maybe The coyote would run after him Sure, it's only a cartoon, you're right about that. You keep looking down. Sorry … yes, you are useful here. Why would you say that? You are everything to me. I want us to be happy. Barry speaks to his wife Reina, who has been taking a class at community college about mankind someday creating cities in space.

She's upset with him, because he hasn't been supportive of her dream to work for Nasa. Reina has applied to Nasa for employment. I see all this technology all day long; and I think if we can create something as amazing as a fifty-inch flat screen plasma television, just imagine what we could do if we really pooled our resources and got focused.

I mean, why are we wasting our time fighting amongst ourselves? You know why human beings are constantly fighting instead of working together to survive? Man is essentially motivated, primarily motivated to sit on his ass. You wanted me to talk about this stuff. Men kill for their right to sit on their ass.

See we have this automated Lazy Boy. What am I saying? Clinging to our collective womb. And while we try to stay in our infancy, so we create and We can grow up? We could become truly independent. Do we want world peace and a chance at long-term perpetuation of humankind, or do we want the Lazy Boy Recliner?

I work at the Techno-Hut. Every year, I meet thousands of representative members of human kind. And I know what they want. I give them what they want. But I … I only offer them the choice, Reina.

Barry hands Reina the envelope. Livi speaks to her husband Pax, who has been pushing her to explain why she didn't pursue her dream of becoming an actress I remember how everyone got quiet, okay?

Like they were all connected to me. All a part of me. Even Dad and Barry — I looked out, even they were I mean, really seeing me. And at the end of the show, when I stepped forward to take my bow the applause was—was— It was deafening.

In a little high school auditorium. It was deafening and — Dad and Barry were applauding with the rest of them. They had these big smiles on their faces. Afterwards Dad took us out to dinner. And I was thinking, this is it, ya know.

Dad wanted me to come work at the Techno-Hut. I live a good life here. You've found me out! I killed the cook in the kitchen with the peanut butter! But honestly, what kind of person goes into cooking with that severe a peanut allergy!? Yes, yes, I killed him. But if it hadn't been me, he would have eventually encountered a peanut on his own. How did I fool him into eating the peanut butter, you ask? Yes, I'm fairly certain Colonel Catsup asked just now. Because he's dying to know isn't he?

But I'll never tell. Oh don't be a dip Colonel Catsup, just insist. Everyone's waiting for you to. So I hid the peanut butter inside of Everyone knows the cook had a sweet spot for cacao! But it was I who thought to invent a decadent chocolate treat with a peanut butter filling! Yes, it was shaped sort of like a very shallow cup. Why do you ask? I didn't invent it. You've found me out.

I saw it on the check out line at the grocery store. It's not like you need a PhD to figure that out, Professor Prune. But it was my idea to change the words on the packaging from "Peanut Butter Cups" to "Chocolate Cups.

Yes I purchased the murder weapon at check-out in the "impulse buy" section, but I assure you the murder was perfectly pre-meditated. And by pre-meditated I mean, I meditated beforehand. I closed my eyes and imagined myself filled with light and the cook filled with peanut butter. It was very soothing, since really the whole killing someone thing is not very zen. You see I'm not the kind of woman who would Why if that cook wasn't planning to expose our love affair to the world and ruin my husband's political career and my marriage The cook was my lover, my paramour!

Don't look at me like that Ms. I know you've tasted his gentle consommes, lapped up his bisques, eaten his crabs So don't play innocent. He was a true artist in the kitchen. The kind of man who knows how to get into your pantry. But it was only a short order affair for me and he wanted a 16 course tasting menu! I kept metaphorically saying "Check! No he wouldn't bring the check! So I did what I had to do. I let him cook me his last supper and ended it with a very final "chocolate cup" for dessert.

Falling to his knees Oh, dear, God in heaven. Please, please, please if you have any mercy, please just let me have her. Just one light touch, one little kiss. And last week, the only reason she looked my way is I threw my body, like a ragdoll, onto the campus green as she walked by. My perfect white jeans and white button up shirt grass stained beyond bleaching. I did it for her. I was jumping to catch a Frisbee some guy had thrown to someone else.

I wanted to make it look like I was one of those cool guys who plays Frisbee on the campus green. I had actually been reading Proust under a nearby tree. Our mommies would give us baths together. There we were, covered in Johnson and Johnson baby wash, rubber ducks floating by. Unbearable Hotness is available in print and digital editions. Do we want our tombstone to read "here lie two yuppies who liked to eat"?

Let's face it, our website HungryYuppy. Now today, that homeless man who asked us for a handout, he looked truly hungry. You just walked on as if he didn't exist. How can you do that knowing our father was a hobo? I know you're angry that in the morning mother awoke to find a note scrawled on a used McMuffin wrapper. You resent that I keep that wrapper with me always, the only words we have of our father's.

No, I won't "throw it away already. However, I am married to a prostitute and we try to stay monogamous. Me more than her. I stole your purse, please don't think that diminishes what we shared. XO" Replacing wrapper into his pocket Don't you wonder if he is still out there somewhere?

Wandering the streets of the city? Every beggar I encounter, I wonder, could this be him? I look for similarities. Does his nose look like ours? Does he have our chin? I know you say you don't ever think about him. But, I don't believe you. You who sit there, seemingly unaffected taking small dainty bites of what appears to be a maple candied pork belly lollipop. Like a pork pacifier. The key is knowing where to beg.

To finding the right begging spot. That's what we should be working on! Mobile digitized heat maps with the best begging spots in hot red! Get your butts down here!

So we'll raise capital on Kickstarter to get cheap phones into their hands. We can probably get a celebrity endorsement from Gary Busey, I'm sure he was homeless at one point. If you remember sleeping with this woman," a picture of our mother circa will appear on their screen,"please press 1.

Our pictures will appear to him, "Tis us, your twin sons! Please remain where you are. We have geolocated you and are on our way. What do you think? There is no one else for me except your daughter. Scared of it worse than death. Rather be in a coffin than bent over a toilet. Anything with even the remotest risk of making me sick I avoid.

Except with your daughter Jill. Worse yet, she has us do these high vomit probability activities together … like whale watching in Bar Harbor, Maine.

She found us seats on the top level of the ship. About an hour out, everyone on the boat, myself included, seemed good! But Jill started feeling not so good.

They were running for the railings and garbage cans. The sheer number of them was alarming, as if seasickness were a highly contagious virus spreading fast. I flagged down a crew member who got me a few sick sacks. It had become like a Casualty Clearing Station on the front lines of a battlefield.

Nauseous people lay splayed across the seats, rocking and moaning. We took our place among them, toward the back. Jill was positively green, her eyes bloodshot. I felt something shift in me. Realized some part of me had been holding back with Jill. I had it wrong. Will you marry me?

Of course, a second later, something else escaped her lips. And that was too much for me, and I followed her into sickness. And that brings me to you, sir. The road to ruin is paved with kittens. Althea and I were so happy.

Until one day that little kitten wandered into our apartment through an open window and changed everything. It was a mangy, skinny little thing with wild unkempt white fur. It made her happy, and I liked to see her happy. She doted on that little kitty. I started to feel something strange creeping in. I guess you could call it jealousy. But what kind of man is jealous of a kitty?

The kitty lie atop the upright piano. I walked over to it. Remnants of rich cream sticking to the fur around its mouth. All you do is lap up cream and sleep.

What do you contribute to this household, huh? I wanted the kitty gone. I opened the window and took the kitten in my hands. She demanded I tell her what was going on, and what I was doing with the kitty. She was looking at me like I was a monster. Prove you still love me! I put the cat down and left her for the night. The kitten is usually in the window, staring down at me.

I feel like it has a smug look on its face. That kitten is living the life I should have lived. I really do believe the road to ruin is paved with kittens. But enough about me. We've given you a gift, now please give back the Matzah. Beat You know, we can't finish the sedor until you return the matzah. Yes it is traditional for the children to steal the matzah, the Afikomen, and demand a ransom for its return so the sedor can be concluded.

Beat But we have given you a gift Beat You don't want Passover to end? Beat That's clever, young man. Its true we can't end the sedor until you provide the Afikomen. Beat And you know how religious we are so you've really got us by the matzah balls, don't you? Beat Are you smirking? Are you smirking at me?! You think this is all a big joke, do you? Myself and your uncle have work tomorrow. What happens if we're still sitting here around the table waiting for you to return the matzah tomorrow?

We could lose our jobs, do you want that? You want us out in the streets? Beat The boy wants us on the streets Meryl. And you just sit there eating brisket! Beat Do you want your uncle Meryl to die of a heart attack? If you don't return the matzah so we can end the meal your uncle Meryl will just keep eating Brisket all night long.

And then where will he be? Dead and your dear old Auntie a sad widow. Do you want me to be a sad widow? Beat You know, we could have you arrested for this. Technically, you're a thief. So we can make a call and Oh yes we will! You've been Bar Mitzvahed - you're a man and we'll have you sentenced like a man! Beat You think I'm bluffing!

Dialing I'm calling them now, last chance to return the matzah. Yes I'd like to report a theft. My nephew has stolen the matzah and refuses to return it, and soon I'll be jobless and my husband dead. Hangs up There it's done. Someone is on their way. They'll probably sentence you to ten years of Passover.

Beat Yes that's a real thing. You like matzah so much they'll feed you nothing but matzah for a decade! Your insides will be dry like the desert, and everyday you'll suffer in agony. You'll call out "please lord, I'm sorry for what I've done, please let me just return the Afikomen! Beat Well, it's not too late yet. You can still give it back. Beat What's it going to be young man? Joe, you want a no-drama, conflict-free relationship.

Believe me, Darlene is not the answer. The fighting fast sex, the makeup slow sex are incredible. First it burns so good, then it burns you out. And you think you see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Not so long as she keeps Cat Mozart. Darlene and I were actually happy, before that fat stray wandered through our window. First time he heard us fighting, he started playing our piano. We thought we hit a gold mine. A piano playing cat. Sure the money from YouTube ads was off the charts. But start digging into your significant other. Start eating into their confidence, questioning everything they do … oh the music starts playing.

He loves the drama. But those golden tunes he lays down, they come at a price. Go ahead, try and really love her. The music just stops. There was one week, I refused to yell back. I just bought her flowers, and wrote her love poems.

She took it out on the cat Mozart. Play something, damn you, play something! I kept at it, hammering away at her with gifts and chocolate and encouraging words. But boy did I love her. I mean I do get you. I got down on my knees and I proposed, pulled out the biggest rock you ever seen. But think about it, why would she want me in your wedding party? Hello, my name is Jay, and I'm a burger addict. Savory juicy patties on fluffy white buns fill my heart. My doc quite his practice to follow his broadway dreams.

He still sees a couple patients backstage during intermission. But you have to pay for and sit through his shows.

He takes my vitals and sing diagnoses me. With no spinach in your soul and no quinoa in your bowl, you can't say you're satisfied? I run out and don't stay for the second act. Next thing I know I'm at a gastropub slinging back angus sliders, and the barmaid is staring at me. The ecological footprint they leave collectively is worse than every automobile on the planet combined.

But she gets me thinking. Are burgers hurting more people than just me? That night I look at the burger stack on my bedside table and begin to shed tears of guilt. What am I doing? I put a burger in my mouth and suck on it like a meat pacifier to calm myself down.

And I drift to sleep. I dream I'm living in ancient times, part of a lost burger loving civilization. Hieroglyphics of burgers line the walls of our cave dwellings.

The cows all have names like "Steero the elder", "Vealo the younger," "Goldie the yummy. The tribesman want to have something special. I suggest adding bacon. They all get very excited and nominate me to prepare the sacred dinner.

I set off to satisfy the cravings of my people. I ascend mystic mountain, where bacon bushes grow wild along flowing streams of mayonnaise. I gather these toppings and descend the mountain. On my way down, I can see the tribesman below dancing in a frenzied circle around Goldie.

Two of the tribesman with larger bellies grab their chests and fall over. A loud crack of thunder can be heard. A puff of black gas emerges from Goldie's behind and rises up into the air merging with a monolithic black cloud that hovers above my people. The tribesman come into focus, I realize, they all look exactly like me. It's a whole tribe of me!

I call down to my selves. Worshipping Goldie the calf! I allow both to fall. On the ground I see two stone tablets. I call out to my selves "You must cease your worship of Goldie the Calf! From this day forward you shall follow these tablets! On the second - kale! My selves look up at me, Goldie makes a run for it, sun parts the clouds. The sun begins to pulsate and beep loudly. My alarm, waking me up. I open my eyes and remove the burger from my mouth.

Sometimes I try to shape them into patties. Its not the same. My name is Jay Posted 2 March I think people who eat Quiche are pretentious. I just think Quiche is pretentious. Quiche is just an egg trying to be more than breakfast. Its sweet that you had me over, tried to prepare me dinner. But this is a pretense of dinner. This is basically an omelet disguising itself as a savory pie. When you think eggs … do you think romance?

You feel … almost starved as you first approach each other. A Quiche is eaten in tiny, dainty bites. Do you want to take me in tiny, dainty bites? Do you want me to take you in tiny dainty bites? One does not devour a Quiche. And by serving me a Quiche, you are telling me something. You know … an egg is basically immature chicken. It really does look good on the plate though. Posted 31 Jan Before I started practicing yoga, sis, if I found out you slept with my boyfriend … I might have not shown up today, for you.

And left you without a maid of honor on your wedding day. But yoga teaches faithfulness. I might have stolen your wedding dress last night and sold it on ebay. But yoga teaches non-stealing. But yoga teaches non-greed. But yoga teaches truthfulness. By my fist in your face. Yoga teaches that underneath everything, we are part of the same underlying ultimate essence. But right now, I bow to that essence, to all of this pain, this agony - because you must feel it too, to do something like this.

Bowing to her sister Namaste Bitch. Posted 20 Jan You take my face gently in your hands, pull my lips to yours. Then bringing your arms down around me, your hands come to rest softly but firmly on my shoulder blades. You pull me into you. My nose buried in your neck. I let it all go. The rare stories occur when people go to meet up and see a completely different person than the one on their tinder app.

Like social media, this is an increasing event — both in quantity and repulsion. The online dating scene is almost no different. Genuine members have no way of knowing whether others are being honest, or whether their matches are going to be who they say they are. They also have no way of protecting their online profile from being copied, modified, and passed off as their own. If only there was a true way to control and monitor how your own content is shared on the internet. You are commenting using your WordPress.

You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account. Notify me of new comments via email. The app dating scene A majority of tinder stories start and end like this:

Images: dating monologue

dating monologue

It was a little leak like this one. With that broad request, I decided to make the piece about being not quite old enough to drive. I was determined to stick in there with whatever this was becoming.

dating monologue

A mess created by boys.

dating monologue

Ugh, you sound just like Brandon. How many of them tell you dating monologue they were cuddling with an adorable puppy when they snapped? datibg study the behavior of convicted murderers, right? I tried fixing a sink once, in college, for my frat. Not long after that Steve filed for divorce.