A monologue from the play by Lucas Hnath
TODD
I think you think I’m weak. I think you’re used to the type of guys who push people around and I’m not that type of person. But I think I bore you. I think you miss the other type of guy.
I think you don’t want to be with someone like me. I think I embarrass you. You’d rather be with someone who, I dunno, who wore leather jackets. Yeah, you know what I mean Leather jackets.
Rides a motorcycle. I have cardigans. Polo shirts. Khaki pants. The time when we went out and had dinner, and I saw you looking at the guy at the bar wearing a leather jacket,
I saw you looking at him, and I could see you seeing in your eye that you’d rather be with him. And that was just a week before we decided to take a break.
That was just a week before, but when I saw you seeing him, in his leather jacket, I could tell you were And I wish I were that person. I wish I were a leather jacket guy, Tina. I try.
I want to be that guy. I think that’s why I want to be with you, I think, I think, because I think that being with you would help maybe make me more the type of guy that I want to be.
But you just don’t have patience for me I guess.