The Monologue

The Monologue

There’s a new show that is making a tour across the country. Sabina had heard it from a friend of hers and found the time for the show in the papers. One is showing this weekend. She bought two tickets. The Vagina Monologue it is called, a one-woman show celebrating the female genital, her sex, her Venus—however it is called. She tells him to get dressed up for Saturday. The show is at eight o’clock in the evening. They’ve rented a local theatre for the weekend to do the show. It has been picking up in popularity. She wanted to go see it. He is more than obliged to go. He thought that maybe he could learn more about the vagina.

As the evening arrives, they both got ready. It is a semi-formal show, casual in some sense. The theatre is as big as a high school auditorium. It held about over a thousand people. It is sold-out. Parking turns out to be kind of hard to find. It is packed.

Before the show starts, a woman comes and does an intro about it. Everyone becomes quiet and listens. The audience is mostly female, with a few men who are with their girlfriends or significant other. It made him feel less conscious of being the only male there. The ticket had them sitting in the second level of the theatre. They’re the only tickets Sabina could get in a short time.

The light slowly dims into darkness. The stage lights then flash on a woman dressed in black sitting in a stool. There’s no music like in a play. She just sits there in silence at first. Then she begins to speak, talking about her vagina. First she names it, the different name it is called: “Vagina, pussy, beaver, and this is my favorite,” she begins, “Cunt. I love that word, ‘cunt.’ When a man calls me a cunt, it just means that he doesn’t understand the power and strength of my womanhood. It means that he’s afraid of my CUNT. It means he’s not in control of my CUNT. Then when I say PUSSY, it makes me think of my cat. ‘My little pussy-CAT.’” Everyone laughs and chuckles a little at her joke. “But my vagina is soft, tender, it gives life, it’s my sanctuary, my woman.” It makes all the women feel empowered, strong.

After she is done with that monologue, the lights dim into a darkness again. When it comes back on, a different woman stands on the stage. The woman is young, in her mid-twenties. She starts talking. At first he thinks that she’s going to say some praise about HER vagina too. But she isn’t. She is speaking of how her virginity was stolen from her. “I went to a frat party a few years ago, with a friend. He and I were good friends. After the party he walked me to my dorm room. He came in and I thanked him for walking me home. But he wanted more. He began to kiss me and I pushed him away. That’s when it happened. He hit me and threw me on my bed.” She goes on how her friend raped her. After she’s done with her monologue, another woman comes out. This time it is a woman from a country in Africa. He’s thinking that this is getting depressing. The African woman speaks of how her vagina has been mutilated, sewn shut so she’d be a virgin when she gets married and not to feel any pleasure from intercourse. It grossed him out. Throughout the show, a different woman comes out to tell their story about their vagina, good or bad experiences.

Near the end of the show, the first woman comes back out again to talk about her vagina. She goes on about how it felt the first time that she explored it, playing with her clit, touching herself. At first she thought that it was DIRTY, FILTHY, abnormal. This made her feel afraid to let any man go down on her or see her vagina, having sex with the lights turned off. Then she tells the audience about this guy she had been dating. “Robert was a quiet man, not very popular with the girls. I liked him because he was nice and considerate. One night after our date we went back to my place, started kissing, petting, feeling my body. Then he takes off my pants.” As she’s telling the story, he imagines the two of them doing what the woman is telling them, sort of people acting out in the background, behind her. “He kissed from my neck down between my legs. His hand touched my bush, ran it all over my inner thighs. When he got to my vagina he stopped and stared at it. Silence. I thought, ‘Is there something wrong?’ I was afraid to ask, but I built up enough courage to ask him. ‘What’s wrong?' ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he tells me. I was confused, wondering why I was staring at my vagina,” the woman continues. “He kept looking at it. Then he says, ‘It’s beautiful.’ It surprised me. I didn’t know if he liked it or not. It turns out he knows about vagina. He took his time playing and exploring it. And it felt good. He’d ask me where it felt good. I’d tell him where to go and stop, directing him. He spent quite some time down there, enjoying my vagina. The O’s and Ah’s came out. I moaned, whimpered at his touches.”

His prick becomes erect listening to the monologue. That’s what he wants to do to Sabina, thinking about her vagina. He sits upright and crosses his leg so his bulge doesn't show. Sabina is moving around a bit too. She’s feeling the heat from the monologue. During the monologue, he keeps thinking to himself, “How could a person not love a vagina or sex?” He has his arm around Sabina’s shoulder, his hand resting just above her breast.

When the woman finishes with her monologue, the lights dim again. Everyone applauds, shouts and cheers. When the lights come back on, all the women that spoke throughout the show are on the stage. They all bow as the audience applauds. It is a standing ovation. The applause takes several minutes. Then people starts leaving the theatre. They enjoyed the show. Sabina feels empowered as they walk out to their car. Everyone talks about it as they’re leaving. She has a big smile on her face. In front of them they notice a celebrity walking in front of them. She is skinny with black hair and wearing casual clothing. They don't go and ask for an autograph. They just admire her from afar.

On the drive home, Sabina talks about the show. He then asks the question that he has been thinking during the show. “How could anyone not like sex?” Sabina gives him a strange look, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. “I mean, maybe it was intended for procreation but the collateral of it is pleasure—all kinds of pleasure from it. There’s no harm in feeling good.”

Sabina nods in agreement. “Yes, my vagina feels good about that,” she jokes. She could see that his prick was hard. She reaches over to touch it over his jeans, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his prick, over his pants.

“The climax is amazing, the sensation of it is just, you know, you can’t get enough of it.”

“Some people are just frigid I guess. I’m glad I’m not,” she protests, squeezing him, making him grunt a little. “Did you like the show?”

“Yes I did. I could see as she was talking about the guy staring at her vagina in the background. Like an improv show in the background. And I had the image of a vagina in my head,” he chuckles.

“I bet you did. I was getting wet listening to her. But it was sad listening to the other women though.”

“—Yeah! I was beginning to feel depressed.”

Sabina only kept her hand on him for a while the whole drive home. She had to concentrate on her driving, not getting into an accident or pull over. “You hungry?”

“Yes!”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Well, there’s one thing I want to eat,” he jokes.

She knows what he’s talking about. “You’ll have to wait until we get home. So what are you hungry for?”

“How about Wendy’s?”

“Mmmm. I haven’t eaten there in a while. That sounds good.”

She drives to the one Wendy’s restaurant in town. Only the drive-thru is open. All he can think about is vagina. It is ingrained in him tonight.

The smell of the burgers makes its way into their taste buds, tantalizing their hunger. They go over to the couch and eat, with the television on, watching a movie on HBO. Every so often they kiss, in between chewing their food. She knows what he is thinking about. He was thinking about it: her vagina. They’re quiet as they eat, watching television and exchanging glances. Slowly the sexual urge fades as their stomachs get full. The libido has calmed down. After stuffing their faces with food, instead of the sexual encounter that he has been expecting, it has dissipated into sitting on the couch together in embraces and tender caresses.