Valentin Krasnogorov
Let's have sex!
Äàâàé çàéìåìñÿ ñåêñîì!
A play in two acts
Translated
from Russian by Eugene Reznikov and James Walker.
NOTE All copyrights to
this play are protected by Russian law and international laws, and belong to
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© Valentin
Krasnogorov
VALENTIN
KRASNOGOROV AND HIS PLAYS
Krasnogorov’s name is acclaimed
by theatergoers in Russia and all over the world. His plays, which include The Dog, Premiere After Party, Small Tragedies, Let’s Have Sex!, The Delights Of Adultery, Somebody Must
Leave, The Fall of Don Juan, Now or Never, Ladies by Ad, Love Medicine, Pelicans of The Wilderness, Several Hours
From the Lives of a Man and a Woman, That Weak Gentle Sex, The Bride’s Room, The Cruel Lesson, and Visit of a Young Lady, have
been positively received by critics and audiences alike. The 50 plays he
has written to date have been performed in more than 500 theaters.
Krasnogorov’s plays have been
directed by many prominent theater directors, such as Georgy
Tovstonogov, Lev Dodin, and
Roman Viktyuk. They are part of the permanent
repertoire of many theaters, and several have been peformed
hundreds of times, to rave reviews. The critical assessment that “Krasnogorov’s plays cross borders easily” is no empty
praise: they have been translated into a number of other languages, and
performed in Australia, Bulgaria, the Czech Republic, Cyprus, Estonia, Germany,
Great Britain, India, Mongolia, Montenegro, Poland, Romania, Slovakia, Turkey,
Ukraine, the USA, and elsewhere. Plays from the Krasnogorov
catalogue have received numerous awards for best drama at various international
theater festivals.
Krasnogorov’s theatrical mastery
spans a wide range of unique talents and skills. It is the combination of
biting satire, a keen sense of humor, the art of the grotesque and the absurd,
tender lyricism, and a deep appreciation of human nature that makes Krasnogorov’s theater pieces so sought after, so
delightful, so delectable. The conflicts in his plays are beautifully balanced
out by their easy yet brilliant dialogue, lively dynamics, and gripping
narratives. The author’s witty plots and paradoxical situations are quick to
draw readers and audiences into the world created by his imagination.
In addition to drama, Valentin
Krasnogorov has written novellas, short stories, and
essays. His biography is included in the Marquis Who’s Who in the World
(USA), the International Who’s Who of Intellectuals (Cambridge,
England), and other publications.
"Basic
of Dramaturgy. Theory, technique and
practice of drama", Krasnogorov’s book on the
essence of drama, has earned praise from notable figures in the theater. He is
also the founder and first president of the Dramatists Guild of St. Petersburg.
32 translations of Krasnogorov's
plays in English, French, and German are now available as Amazon ebooks.
About this play
From an Indian Review (Let’s
Have Sex Presented by
Tanariri Theatre, Bangalore)
Sensationalist as the title sounds, the play Let’s Have Sex, is about everything but sex. Sure, the word
is bandied about in almost every line in the dialogue & it is the thread
weaving the narrative that holds all the characters together. However, the
usage of sex as a theme is merely a razor-edged tool that Krasnogorov
uses to slash with timed precision, at the cocoon we
call public life.
Let’s Have Sex tip toes in to the realm of absurdist theatre
but irreverently switches to the style of its arch nemesis – realism – without
warning. Portraying elements of realist & absurdist theatre poses a
challenge to any production. One could choose to address this by either staying
true to the original style or refashioning it to either a completely absurdist
or completely realist production.
The obvious theme is sex & society’s relationship with it. The
dialogues pose radical theories on sexual & gender politics that only an
absurdist play can get away with – as all elements of reality are alienated
here. Commonly accepted social beliefs – of a man pursuing & winning a
woman, representation of women as creatures created for procreation alone – are
depicted in cringing detail.. The definition of sanity
& normalcy is questioned with hopeless despair & the play ends on this
note.
Let’s Have Sex is a play that looks at the hypocrisy of public life & its accepted
beliefs from an individualist standpoint that rises above social constructs
& barriers of bias. The script of the play is a read I highly recommend,
and if Krasnogorov’s writing appeals to you, you must
read Dog – another of his plays that’s translated to English!
Nitya
Andrew
SUMMARY
Every personage of this strange,
absurd play talks and thinks only about sex. But the frivolous title of this
comedy is delusive: the drama is complicated, tragic, and at the same time,
amusing. It is difficult to define the genre of this play. It may be called
both a psychological drama, and a theater of the absurd, a play that deals with
paradox, a philosophical play…. It may be defined as a comedy, but it will not
be a mistake to call it also a tragedy. The characters come from nowhere and
leave to nowhere. They are familiar to each other and at the same time seem to
see each other for the first time. There are 5 characters in the play: the
Husband, the Wife, the Sister, the Girl, and the Professor. They are quite real
and authentic. At the same time, it is difficult to understand, whether the
Wife really is someone’s wife, the Professor – a real professor, etc. There is
no plot in the traditional meaning of the word. The play is constructed on the
principle of a rondo: movement goes in a circle, or, more precisely, along a
spiral. The characters’ actions are motivated by loneliness, by their yearning
for love and emotion, their desire to escape from their problems. Or maybe all
these conversations are simply the product of a deranged mind? The play has
been staged in 2002 in Moscow by the most famous theater director of Russia,
Roman Viktyuk, and is an enormous success. The play has been transalated into
15 languages, performed by theaters of Australia, Bolgaria, Estonia, Finland,
Germany, Great Britain, India, Montenegro, Mongolia, Poland, Rumania, Turkey, etc.
2 men and 3 women. Interior .
Characters
husband
wife
professor
girl
sister
Part ONE
The stage can represent an empty space. The room may be furnished with nothing more
than a table, some chairs and an armchair.
The HUSBAND is reading a book. The WIFE enters. The
HUSBAND continues to read. The WIFE goes out, enters again. The HUSBAND
continues to read.
WIFE. Let's have sex.
HUSBAND. OK. (Continues to read.)
WIFE. Let's have sex!
HUSBAND. (Continues to read.) OK!
WIFE. I said - let's have sex!
HUSBAND. What?
WIFE. Sex!!
HUSBAND. Right now?
WIFE. Why not?
HUSBAND. Just let me finish reading this
page.
WIFE. What if I want it right now?
HUSBAND. What has come over you?
WIFE. Nothing. Do you have any
objections?
HUSBAND. Me? No. (Continues to read.)
WIFE. Well?
HUSBAND. Well, what?
WIFE. You said that you have no objection.
HUSBAND. To what?
WIFE. To doing it.
HUSBAND. Doing what?
WIFE. Put down the book, or I’ll throw it out the window.
HUSBAND. The book doesn’t have anything to
do with it.
WIFE. I know that it doesn’t. But you don’t want me throw you out the window, do you?
HUSBAND. What do you want from me?
WIFE. I have said, let's have sex.
HUSBAND. You interrupted me in a
particularly interesting place - he is sneaking up to her bed with a gun.
WIFE. Nobody sneaks up to my bed.
HUSBAND. That’s good.
WIFE. I am not so sure.
HUSBAND.
(Furtively glancing at
the book.) I think he’s going to kill her now.
WIFE. (Grabs out the
book away from him and throws it into the corner.) I will kill you now.
HUSBAND. What do you want from me?
WIFE. Nothing. A woman is not
supposed to want it. You are the one
who is supposed to want it.
HUSBAND. You seem very irritable today.
WIFE. There is nothing wrong with me.
HUSBAND. Did something happen at work?
WIFE. Do people have sex only when something happens at
work?
HUSBAND. No. Not necessarily.
WIFE. Thank God. Otherwise
else I would think that nothing ever happens to you at work.
HUSBAND. I think that now it is
not the right time, and this is not the right place.
WIFE. For you, never is the
right time and nowhere is the right place for sex.
HUSBAND. Somebody could come in
…
WIFE. But we’re alone now, so
let’s hurry!
HUSBAND. You know, it would be
inappropriate here.
WIFE. So tell me when and
where it would be appropriate for you? Why does it always have to be in the
matrimonial bed, always at the same time, on the weekend, ten minutes after the
light is turned off? Why not in the morning, why not in the afternoon? Why always
lying in bed? Why not standing up or sitting down? Why not on the floor or on a
table? Why not on the washing machine? Why not on a swing in the garden? Why
not on a roll of barbed wire? Why not by candlelight? Why don’t you take me by
surprise, without warning, when I’m not expecting it, where it’s inconvenient?
Why does it always have to be at home, in a warm and comfortable room, when
we’re yawning before going to sleep, in the same everlasting bed?
HUSBAND. Because… Because in the
bed is more convenient.
WIFE. More
convenient? Then why are the times on the back seat of a cramped car, or
in a forest on an ant hill, or on a dark backstairs the ones we remember
forever, while matrimonial caresses at home, in the soft, wide, convenient bed
so suitable for sexual pleasure are forgotten in ten minutes?
HUSBAND. Because... I don’t know
why.
WIFE. Why don’t you come up
to me when I’m washing the dishes and take me from behind? Why don’t you look
for a chance, why don’t you pursue me? Why I am always sure that you won’t do
anything unexpected? Why not at a symphony concert? Why not in someone else’s
apartment, where somebody might come in at any moment?
HUSBAND. Somebody could come in
here at any moment.
WIFE. Well, let them. Let
something happen at last. I don’t want to be stuck inevitably doing the same
thing over and over. I want unpredictability. I want to not know what awaits me
tonight. Maybe a meeting with a girlfriend in a cafe, or maybe a party at
somebody’s home... Or a quiet walk alone through the park, or taking a rest in
an armchair with a book in my hands, or an unexpected rendezvous on a dark
beach under the stars… Under the bright stars in a mysterious
black sky… White sand, pounding waves, the passionate
embrace of unfamiliar arms, hands greedily exploring a new and unfamiliar body
– my body – that longs impatiently for those arms … But none of this will ever
be, and I know precisely what will happen today, and tomorrow, and the day
after tomorrow. It seems as if my life has already ended, because I
already know everything; I’ve already gone through everything. There is nothing
new left to happen. I’m not living, I only continue to exist. I read the same
page of the same book, and it is so boring to me, boring, boring… It’s so
boring to me! Let's have sex!
HUSBAND. My
God, again?
WIFE. “Again”?
Did we already do it?
HUSBAND. In
general or today?
WIFE. What happened in general, I don’t remember anymore.
There never was anything, and there never will be. All that there is, is “now.”
Why do we live only in the past or in the future? Why not to try to live now,
and so that "now" can make us happy? Let's have…
HUSBAND.… Sex.
WIFE. Yes. For a change.
HUSBAND. I don’t know what has
come over you. You sound so cynical. Such a matter-of-fact and naked way of
putting it: “Let's have sex.”
WIFE. And what do you want me
to say? “Let's make love”? Love? Doesn’t that seem
ridiculous to you? Aren’t you embarrassed? Doesn’t it sound cynical? And you
don’t seem to approve of the word “naked.” Better to be clothed. In a long coat, for example. All buttoned up.
HUSBAND. In a decent society
they don’t talk about sex.
WIFE. You might think that in
a decent society they don’t have sex.
HUSBAND. They do, but they just
don’t talk about it.
WIFE. But each of us is not
first and foremost an executive, a teacher, an engineer, a doctor or a member
of parliament. First of all we are men and women. Why shouldn’t we think about
it and talk about it? Why should I be ashamed of what is natural? Of what gives
me pleasure?
HUSBAND. You shouldn’t be
ashamed, but you shouldn’t talk about it either.
WIFE. And what do they talk
about in a decent society?
HUSBAND. I don’t know. About money.
WIFE. You want me to talk to
you about money? About what you call your salary? Well then, let's talk about
money.
HUSBAND. No,
better not.
WIFE. And what is so cynical
in the word "sex"? It is matter-of-fact - I agree. But sex is a fact
of life. A part of our lovely, comfortable, boring, miserable
everyday life. You say, “Let's have supper.” So why can’t I say, “Let's
have sex”? Let's watch TV. Let's go shopping. Let's go to the movies. Let's
have sex. Let's take out the trash. Let’s do the laundry. Let's have sex. Let's
call up some friends. Let's…
HUSBAND. Enough!
WIFE.… Let's move the
furniture. Let's buy a teapot. Let's have sex. Let's go to bed... Does “Let's
go to bed” sound cynical too?
HUSBAND. It depends on with
whom.
WIFE. With
my husband.
HUSBAND. With your husband it
does not sound cynical.
WIFE. It doesn’t sound
anything at all.
HUSBAND. So tell me, are you
having a hard time at work?
WIFE. I’m having a hard time
at home. At home, not only do I not have sex, but I’m also forbidden to talk of
it.
HUSBAND. Why should we talk
about it?
WIFE. Precisely
because we don’t do it. And what else should I talk about? About the children that I don’t have?
HUSBAND. What has come over you
today?
WIFE. Nothing.
Today I want to talk about sex, again about sex and only about sex. Even if it’s just for today. Even if only
to talk. I kept silent about it all my life. I talked about everything
in the world. About Beethoven and the prices at the market.
About skirts and French painting. About
local elections and the boss’s tie. So really, do Beethoven, French
painting, prices, skirts, elections and the boss’s tie interest you and me more
than sex?
HUSBAND. Skirts interest you.
WIFE. And
you too.
HUSBAND. Everything about a
woman interests me.
WIFE. Yes. Everything
between her knees and her waist.
HUSBAND. I’m a normal man.
WIFE. I wish I was sure of
that.
HUSBAND. You are talking
recklessly.
WIFE. That’s good. I grew up
inhibited and uptight. Sex was forbidden. Nobody spoke about it. It was
obscene, done only at night. Only with the shades down and the lights off. So
that nobody would see, even yourself. It was forbidden
to remember it in the morning or discuss it at work. We were sexless. We had
nothing between our legs. And now they do it in broad daylight. Now they show
it at the movies. Now they write about it in children's books. Recently I found
twenty-two tips on how to use birth-control in a magazine for schoolgirls. And
I had never read about it before.
HUSBAND. So what do you want?
WIFE. To
take the taboo off of sex. To free it from sin.
To lift the veil of secrecy from it. To stop alluding to it. To call things by
their proper names. Penis. Orgasm.
Vagina.
HUSBAND. You’re crazy..
WIFE. Yes, I’ll repeat the
word "vagina" twenty times, two hundred times, until the word starts
to sound neutral, sterile, medical. Until you stop
reacting to it; until people who hear it stop giggling, or being offended by
the vulgarity of it, stop being indignant or getting excited. Vagina, vagina,
vagina…
HUSBAND. Stop it!
WIFE. Vagina, vagina, vagina…
HUSBAND. You’re crazy.
WIFE. And you’re a hypocrite.
A puritan. What is more attractive to you than a
vagina? What do you see in your dreams? What do you pay the most attention to
when you look at paintings in museums? What is the main thing for you in a
woman? The eyes? The smile?
Well, answer me!
HUSBAND. You’re crazy.
WIFE. I know. This life is
enough to drive anyone crazy. Have I ever truly lived? What have I seen? What
have I done? Home and work, home and work, home and work… And what happens at
home? What happens at work? Where is my life? What have I done with it? So
there is only one thing left to do – try to lose myself in sex and forget all
my petty problems. They not worth worrying about anyway, but still they
overwhelm and oppress me. To stop hating myself, even for just ten minutes. Not
to think, even for just one second. Not to remember. Not to care. Just feel. The joy of being alive. The pleasure. The delight of taking and
being taken. Man and woman are always in a state of war, and sex is the
one moment of truce, the one field of mutual understanding and attraction. The one moment when you don’t feel lonely. An act of unity, a time of reconciliation with life, an illusion of
love, a glimpse of happiness, an opportunity for self-affirmation.
Pause.
HUSBAND. Well, if you really want
to have sex with me…
WIFE. With you? What makes you think
that?
HUSBAND. You said, “Let's have
sex.”
WIFE. But I didn’t say, “with you.” Just “Let's have sex.”
HUSBAND. Not necessarily with me?
WIFE. No, not necessarily.
HUSBAND. With
whom then?
WIFE. Do you have anyone else that you
can have sex with but me?
HUSBAND. Not right at this
moment.
WIFE. What about other times?
HUSBAND. Theoretically - with
anybody.
WIFE. Leave the theory aside, let’s get
to the practice.
HUSBAND. I am tired of your
nagging.
WIFE. My poor, unfortunate
husband. He’s tired to death of sex. Apparently, forever.
HUSBAND. You know, I’ve had
enough of you. Maybe you really think I am your husband, but I don’t consider
you my wife. And I am not going to have sex with a strange woman.
WIFE. Why do you think I want to have
sex?
HUSBAND. Well, what do you want?
WIFE. Nothing. That’s the problem. I
don’t want anything. I’m depressed. Every day the same thing.
I am so depressed…
HUSBAND. So why torment me? Why
ask for sex if you don’t want it? Just to spite me?
WIFE. Have I no right to talk? I’m your
wife!
HUSBAND. Leave me alone! You are
not my wife! I hate the very word "wife"! My wife has ruined my life!
My wife has driven me crazy! Stop it! Leave me alone! (Leaves.)
WIFE. (Alone). A little more of this, and I really
will go crazy. I have to save myself. I need a change. As
soon as possible… Otherwise it will be too late. As
soon as possible… What to do? What to do?
PROFESSOR. (Entering). What to do? I’ll tell
you. Let’s have sex.
WIFE. That’s a surprising proposition.
PROFESSOR. Good! Sex shouldn’t be
planned. It’s only good when it’s spontaneous. It should be sudden like a
whirlwind, unexpected like an earthquake. It should catch us by surprise, when
we’re not hoping for it, where it doesn’t seem possible. Do you agree?
WIFE. Yes.
PROFESSOR. Then let’s start now.
WIFE. Not so fast.
PROFESSOR. But you said you agreed.
WIFE. I agree in principle. Not to your
proposition, but to what you said about the whirlwind and earthquake.
PROFESSOR. If you agree in
principle, then let’s get started. We can work out the details as we go along. Or when we’re done.
WIFE. I don’t have time.
PROFESSOR. Neither do I. So let’s not waste it. Let’s get started right away.
WIFE. I am not used to doing it “right
away.” I need time.
PROFESSOR. Nonsense. Imagine you’ve been
swept up by a whirlwind.
WIFE. Besides, we don’t really have time.
By the way, what time is it?
PROFESSOR. You’re kidding! Who has
sex with a watch in his hand?
WIFE. What makes you think that I want to
have sex?
PROFESSOR. Everybody wants to have
sex.
WIFE. But not me.
PROFESSOR. So what do you want to
do? Learn to speak German?
WIFE. I don’t want to do anything. And
definitely not have sex.
PROFESSOR. You don’t want to have
sex at all or just right now?
WIFE. Not at all.
PROFESSOR. That’s why you’ve called
me?
WIFE. Me? I didn’t called
you. Who are you, anyway?
PROFESSOR. I am a world-famous
professor of psychiatry, psychology and sociology. A
sexologist and sex pathologist. Treatment, consulting,
lecturing. I get rid of complexes, inspire
self-confidence, free people of their inhibitions. I cure frigidity and
impotence. I satisfy the unsatisfied. It’s very hard work. Lots
of calls. I get very tired.
WIFE. Are you a doctor?
PROFESSOR. Not
exactly. I am a sex consultant. I teach, give advice, help to solve problems, cure any
illness, everything.
WIFE. Why everything, if you’re just an
expert on sex?
PROFESSOR. Because
lack of sex is the cause of all illnesses. Now do you understand why you feel
bad?
WIFE. What makes you think that I feel
bad?
PROFESSOR. You told me you don’t
want to have sex. That’s a type of derangement.
WIFE. Do you think I’m crazy?
PROFESSOR. No, I didn’t say that.
Madness is normal because we all live in a mad world. The abnormal one is the
person who’s normal. But I’ll cure you.
WIFE. How?
PROFESSOR. I have a universal
remedy: sex three times a day. Instead of meals.
WIFE. I agree.
PROFESSOR. Excellent. But the patient has to
be very healthy to take this cure. Are you healthy?
WIFE. Yes.
PROFESSOR. Then there’s no need for
me to treat you. So let’s just have sex. Do you know what it is?
WIFE. I once knew, but I’ve forgotten.
PROFESSOR. Do you have a husband?
WIFE. A husband and sex are two different
things. And besides, I’m not sure if I have him.
PROFESSOR. What?! You don’t even
know if you have a husband?
WIFE. I have him, but I don’t know
whether he is my husband.
PROFESSOR. My dear, now I see. You
need to start life all over again. And I’ll help you. Nobody in the entire
world knows what sex is, but me. I have devoted myself to it completely. I have
given it the best years of my life. I studied it in libraries and archives, at
lectures and in museums, at conferences and seminars.
WIFE. And nowhere else?
PROFESSOR. If you mean nitty-gritty
experience, perhaps
that may be good for an amateur, but not for a top-notch professional. You
can’t even imagine what a rich world will be opened up for you when I start
sharing my knowledge! Primitive sex. Ancient sex. Greek and Roman sex. Medieval sex. Renaissance sex. Baroque and Classical sex. Romantic sex.
Modern sex. Oriental sex. French sex. Sex of all countries, times,
and peoples. And we’ll start learning all this right now.
WIFE. Right now? I clearly told you, I
am not in the mood for sex right now.
PROFESSOR. We’ll have sex in the
academic sense. A course of four hundred and eighty hours,
for a start. We will study the theoretical principles. The history. The social aspects. Practical applications. Tantra and the Kama Sutra. Pictures. Films. Physiology
and psychology. Hygiene and techniques. Exercises for the hands and legs. Voice training: shouting,
sighing, groaning. Resisting, relaxing, surrendering. Pretending.
WIFE.
I already
know how to pretend.
PROFESSOR.
I will
teach you how to pretend so well that you’ll believe it yourself.
WIFE.
And when I
learn all this, then what?
PROFESSOR.
Then
everything will still be the same. But you will never learn everything. Sex is
a boundless science. A science that brings us happiness. All your life is not
enough to explore it completely, even if you start from childhood and don’t
stop until you die. This subject should be taught in school. Why do we have to
learn algebra, which is of no use to anybody, and not sex, which everybody
needs all the time? Tell me, have you ever needed to know
WIFE.
Never.
PROFESSOR.
And yet sex
is with us always and everywhere. It accompanies us all our life. It warms us
in the winter and cools us in the hot summer. It soothes us but does not let us
rest. It’s a magic elixir which gives us a sense of youth and happiness. That’s
why we love it so much.
WIFE.
Right now I
detest it.
PROFESSOR.
Don’t
deceive yourself. It’s not sex that you feel an aversion to, but your partner.
Change partners. Three times a day. Start today. I will teach you. Right now.
You are a beautiful woman, and it is your duty to be happy. My services are
expensive, but I am willing to teach you for free.
WIFE.
I always
thought that in circumstances like this the teacher pays, not the girl. And I
didn’t call you.
PROFESSOR.
Called me,
didn’t call me, what’s the difference? Remember, we don’t have much time. Let’s
get started. One, two, three, go!
Pause.
WIFE.
How do we
start?
PROFESSOR.
You see,
you don’t even know how to start. One, two, three, go!
Pause.
One, two, three!
WIFE. Stop that. It
would be better if you teach me…
PROFESSOR. Teach you
what?
WIFE. How to live
differently. Not like I live now. Better. More sensibly.
PROFESSOR. To live
differently? It’s very simple. To live in another way you must live with
another partner. This idea might seem like a commonplace joke to you, but it’s
true. You can’t change yourself now – so left to your own devices you will
always live the same way you have before. But life with another man will force
you to live differently.
WIFE. Better or worse?
PROFESSOR. Worse for
sure. But differently. That’s what you want, isn’t it?
WIFE. I don’t even know
what I want. I only know what I don’t want. To live here. To live like this. A
miserable, boring life. Alone. People are alienated and crazy. Their favorite
pastime is tormenting each other. I want to run away. Doesn’t it seem to you
that everybody has gone mad?
PROFESSOR. No, it
doesn’t just seem that way, that’s the way it really is. So there is nowhere to
run away to.
WIFE. The years will
pass like peas in a pod, but each one uglier than the one before. The end will
come, and I’ll ask myself, what did I live for? Did I ever live at all?
PROFESSOR. My dear, life
does not and cannot have any meaning, except for the continuation of life. In
other words, the meaning of life is sex. Sex is the affirmation, continuation
and celebration of life. You and I are ants, and nature does not care about
each separate ant. Its goal is to preserve the anthill.
WIFE. I despise the
human anthill.
PROFESSOR. An anthill?
That’s an undeserved compliment for our society. Ants work together in harmony,
while we are a society of competitors, where everybody is wolf to each other.
WIFE. I don’t know how
to solve my problems anymore.
PROFESSOR. Don’t
complicate things. All problems come from sex. Happy sex - happy life, bad sex
- unhappy life. That's all. Is your sex life good?
WIFE. No.
PROFESSOR. And the rest
of your life?
WIFE. No.
PROFESSOR. Q.E.D.
WIFE. That’s why I want
to run away. Away from this life.
PROFESSOR. To tell the
truth, so do I. Who will you run away with?
WIFE. Alone. ... But it
would be better with somebody.
PROFESSOR. Together is
certainly better.
WIFE. Why don’t we run
away together?
PROFESSOR. I am asking
myself the same question.
WIFE. And what is your
answer?
PROFESSOR. Let’s do it.
That’s what I offered to do when I first got here.
WIFE. You offered to
have sex when you first got here.
PROFESSOR. Sex is just
an escape from life.
WIFE. I thought it was
life itself.
PROFESSOR. Let’s not
argue. We don’t have much time.
WIFE. So you’ll take me
with you?
PROFESSOR. I’ll abduct
you, steal you, take you away, carry you away in my arms.
WIFE. Where to?
PROFESSOR. Nowhere.
WIFE. That’s the
problem.
PROFESSOR. But we have
to run away all the same.
WIFE. Where to?
PROFESSOR. That’s not
important. The main thing is not to stop. Not to think. Not to look back. Give
me your hand.
WIFE. Right now?
PROFESSOR. Otherwise
someone will come and it will be too late.
WIFE. Then wait here,
I’ll just get some things to take with me.
WIFE
leaves. Pause. GIRL enters.
GIRL.
Let’s have
sex.
PROFESSOR.
So it was you who called me?
GIRL.
Me? Called
you? What for?
PROFESSOR.
To have
sex, I believe.
GIRL.
No, it
wasn’t me. But I’m ready.
PROFESSOR.
So who
called me?
GIRL.
If someone
wanted to have sex, just presume it was me that called. A very urgent call.
Let's start immediately.
PROFESSOR.
That’s just what I wanted to suggest. Who are you,
by the way?
GIRL.
I work with
the husband.
PROFESSOR.
It’s a
pleasure to meet you.
GIRL.
Whether
it’s a pleasure or not, we’ll soon find out, I hope. (Starts to unbutton her dress.)
PROFESSOR.
And why
don’t you have sex with the husband?
GIRL.
With whose
husband?
PROFESSOR.
With yours,
for a change.
GIRL.
I don’t
have a husband.
PROFESSOR.
But you
work with him!
GIRL.
I work with
him, but he is not my husband.
PROFESSOR.
That
changes things completely. If he isn’t your husband, it is simply your duty to
have unlimited sex with him. Especially since you work together. It’s very
convenient and saves time.
GIRL.
Unfortunately,
he’s terribly busy.
PROFESSOR.
Busy? At
work!? With what? Impossible! What can keep a person busy at work?
GIRL.
Sex, of
course.
PROFESSOR.
That’s
different.
GIRL.
I make out
his daily schedule for him and keep a record of his work: the beginning of sex,
the end of it, with whom, when, on whose recommendation, who’s next. It’s a lot
of work.
PROFESSOR.
If he’s so
busy, you should have sex with someone else.
GIRL.
That’s just
what I proposed to you.
PROFESSOR.
My
pleasure.
GIRL.
I want to
make sure of that.
PROFESSOR.
You are in
luck: you’ve found the right person.
GIRL.
Prove it.
PROFESSOR.
My
reputation does not require any proof. My name speaks for itself.
GIRL.
And who are
you?
PROFESSOR.
I am a
world-famous professor of psychiatry, psychology and sociology. A sex
consultant. I get rid of complexes, inspire self-confidence, free people of
their inhibitions. I cure frigidity and impotence. I satisfy the unsatisfied. I
teach, give advice, help to solve problems. I cure all illnesses.
GIRL.
I would
like to become such a consultant, too.
PROFESSOR.
Then I’ll
teach you. Do you know who said the famous words: "I have taken all
knowledge…."
GIRL.
“…to be my
province.”
PROFESSOR.
Exactly
right. It is me who said it.
GIRL.
I didn’t
know that.
PROFESSOR.
There are
still many things you don’t know.
GIRL.
So let's
study. I’m very curious. Let’s start right now.
PROFESSOR.
Good. We
shall begin by checking your sexuality.
The GIRL
starts to undress.
No, don’t undress!
It’s not necessary.
GIRL.
(Disappointedly). Not necessary? Then how will you
check me?
PROFESSOR.
I have a
special system of tests. Sit down facing me and concentrate.
They sit
down opposite each other.
Are you ready?
GIRL.
Yes.
PROFESSOR.
(Takes out a pen.) Tell me, what does this pen remind
you of?
GIRL.
Sex.
PROFESSOR.
Very
interesting. Well, what does this armchair remind you of?
GIRL.
Sex.
PROFESSOR.
What? Sex
again? But why?!
GIRL.
Everything
reminds me of sex.
PROFESSOR.
But tell me
what an armchair has to do with to sex?
GIRL.
Oh, it has
a lot to do with sex. If you only knew, professor, how many of my fantasies
involve an armchair! Unfortunately, they’re only fantasies and not memories.
PROFESSOR.
I am giving
you the highest score! A hundred points. You have a rich imagination.
GIRL.
I have a
normal imagination. The trembling sails full of desire to be opened and give
themselves up to the wind; the ray of sunshine piercing the moist depth of the
sea; the clouds merging with each other; the train confidently entering the
tunnel; the smokestack of a power plant; the trunk of a poplar; a candle – all
of these represent the same thing to me. A carrot is a man; a turnip, a woman.
A banana is a man, too – what a man! And potatoes, beet, apples, porridge – all
of these are women.
PROFESSOR.
You have
amazing abilities. I need to learn from you, not you from me.
GIRL.
The sister
says that I am crazy.
PROFESSOR.
Forget the
sister. Trust me. You are normal. She isn’t.
GIRL.
I live in a
world of symbols: a spoon and a plate…
PROFESSOR.
(joining in).… a cylinder and a piston…
GIRL.… a ring and a finger…
PROFESSOR.… an arm and a sleeve…
GIRL.… a seed and the soil…
PROFESSOR.… a blade and a sheath…
GIRL.… a key and a lock…
PROFESSOR.… all these are symbols
of the eternal union of man and woman. Each is meaningless and impossible
without the other.
GIRL.
Don’t stop
talking! It’s getting me so excited!
PROFESSOR.
Tell me,
what do you know about sex? No, let me put it another way. What don’t you know
yet about sex?
GIRL.
I have to
admit, I don’t know what sex is at all. I’ve never had it. That’s why it’s so
interesting to me.
PROFESSOR.
We shall
start having it, and we shall have it for a very long time, all day long, from
morning till evening, and from evening till morning, and you will learn
everything. We’ll start right now.
GIRL.
Now? I’m
afraid we can’t do it now.
PROFESSOR.
Why?
GIRL.
We can’t do
it here.
PROFESSOR.
I know. But
why not try?
GIRL.
(Looking around and lowering her voice.) Can you keep a secret?
PROFESSOR.
Yes. But
you’d better not tell it to me anyway.
GIRL.
No, I’ll
tell you. I want to escape.
PROFESSOR.
You, too?
Where will you go?
GIRL.
Where
everything is different. And why do you say, “you, too”? Do you want to escape,
too?
PROFESSOR.
Who
doesn’t?
GIRL.
Then we
will run away together, while we have the chance.
PROFESSOR.
Dear, how
can I run away? I don’t run anymore, I shuffle. I don’t breathe, I gasp for
breath. A few steps more and my run on this earth will be finished.
GIRL.
Oh, don’t
talk about these awful things! Follow my example and think only of sex. Think
about it all the time, so you won’t think about anything else. Do you
understand me? I forbid you to think about anything else. We’ll run away from
here, and you’ll live another thousand years. Are you ready to go?
PROFESSOR.
(Stretching out his hand.) With you – to the ends
of the earth.
GIRL.
Let's leave
at once, right now, without losing a moment, not stopping, not looking back,
otherwise it will be too late. (She pulls
the Professor toward the exit, but he stops suddenly.)
PROFESSOR.
Wait! I
just remembered; I can’t.
GIRL.
Why? Are
you afraid?
PROFESSOR.
I am. But
that’s not the point.
GIRL.
What then?
PROFESSOR.
I just
promised a lady that I would run away with her.
GIRL.
So…?
PROFESSOR. I ought to at least
explain to her…
GIRL.
Why do you
think you have to explain anything? Are you the first man to leave a woman?
PROFESSOR.
No, but…
GIRL.
Did you
have an affair with her?
PROFESSOR.
Not
exactly, but…
GIRL.
Whether you
did or didn’t, it doesn’t matter. Sex is no reason to talk things over or
prolong a relationship.
PROFESSOR.
But since
we’ve gotten to know each other...
GIRL.
(Interrupting). So what? Sex is no cause for
acquaintance. But if you’re so scrupulous, leave her a note. Get out your
remarkable pen. Write: (Dictates).
“My dear, don’t worry. I have run away with another woman. I won’t be back
anytime soon.”.
PROFESSOR.
(Gets out his pen and starts writing, then
stops.)
I should tell her myself. Or maybe the three of us could run away together?
GIRL.
Will she
agree?
PROFESSOR.
Why not?
GIRL.
A threesome
is not so interesting.
PROFESSOR.
On the
contrary, it can be even more interesting.
GIRL.
Well then,
go and talk to her. I’ll wait here. But don’t leave me alone for long! I hate
being alone. It makes me feel sick.
PROFESSOR.
I’ve been
sick of being alone for a long time now.
PROFESSOR
leaves. HUSBAND enters.
HUSBAND.
Let’s have
sex.
GIRL.
OK.
HUSBAND.
I’m
serious.
GIRL.
I could
tell right away that you’re not joking.
(Starts to unbutton her dress.) Well?
HUSBAND.
Right now?
GIRL.
Certainly
not tomorrow.
HUSBAND.
Right here?
GIRL.
Where else?
HUSBAND.
Who will
start first?
GIRL.
Don’t we
have to do it together?
HUSBAND.
Yes, but
somebody has to take the initiative.
GIRL.
You have
already done it. You offered; I agreed. Now it’s your turn again.
HUSBAND.
What should
I do?
GIRL.
Do what you
offered to do, I think.
HUSBAND.
That would
be great. But I don’t know how to start.
GIRL.
That’s the
most difficult part.
HUSBAND. What do you suggest?
GIRL.
To tell the
truth, I don’t have any experience.
HUSBAND.
You’ve
never had an affair with a man?
GIRL.
Never! But men
sometimes had an affair with me.
HUSBAND.
And how did
they start?
GIRL.
All sorts
of ways.
HUSBAND.
I think
we’re supposed to talk for a while first.
GIRL.
What for?
HUSBAND.
I don’t
know. That’s how it’s done.
GIRL.
What should
we talk about?
HUSBAND.
I don’t
know. Books, movies, painting…
GIRL.
And how
long do we have to talk?
HUSBAND.
I don’t
know. It depends.
GIRL.
Why not to
talk afterwards?
HUSBAND.
We can talk
afterwards, too, but somehow you don’t want to anymore. Usually the talk comes
first.
GIRL.
Well, if
that’s the way it’s supposed to be, then talk. But make it quick.
Pause.
HUSBAND.
Under other
circumstances I would offer to take you out to a cafe.
GIRL.
Thanks. I
already had a cup of coffee today. I thought you were proposing something else.
HUSBAND.
That offer
remains valid.
GIRL.
So, what’s
the matter?
HUSBAND.
You see,
sex should not begin from the end; it should begin from the beginning. There
should be a resistance, there should be a struggle, and there should be a
victory. That’s what brings satisfaction.
GIRL.
We have
resistance. On your part.
HUSBAND.
I’m not
resisting.
GIRL.
Oh really?
Are you being aggressive, then? Well, I surrender. It’s impossible to resist
you. So, we’ve had resistance; we’ve had victory; now it’s time for
satisfaction.
HUSBAND.
But first
let's talk.
GIRL.
Haven’t we
talked already?
HUSBAND.
We haven’t
even started to talk.
GIRL.
Is that so?
Well then, let's talk.
Pause.
HUSBAND.
What will
we talk about?
GIRL.
Tell me
about your Don Juan list of conquests. I suppose it’s incredibly long.
HUSBAND.
Yes, I have
a lot to tell …
GIRL.
Well, how
many women have you had? Tell the truth. Twenty? Thirty? A hundred?
HUSBAND.
Maybe more… (After a pause.) To tell the truth
though, not quite that many.
GIRL.
Well then,
how many? Ten?
HUSBAND.
Not quite.
GIRL.
Less than
ten? And you call that a list? Still, I want to know, how many? Nine? Eight?
HUSBAND.
(Reflecting). Including my wife?
GIRL.
On the Don
Juan list? Absolutely not. You can only include women on the list; is your wife
really a woman to you?
HUSBAND.
Then… I
have to admit… I… I don’t have a Don Juan list. I mean, I do have a list, but
there are no women on it.
GIRL.
So get
started it!
HUSBAND.
Right here?
GIRL.
Yes, right
here, right now.
HUSBAND.
You know,
right here, just like that, it doesn’t seem right.
GIRL.
What do you
mean, “just like that”?! We’ve already been talking for five or ten minutes
now!
HUSBAND.
That’s not
much. Imagine that you’re about to start traveling across a country that is
completely new to you. Is your purpose just to reach the final point? No. You
will be looking forward to the whole journey, from beginning to end, over all
the hills and valleys, cliffs and canyons, roads and trails. Or, if you open a
new book, will you start reading from the last page? Without a beginning there
is no plot, without a plot there is no climax. And do you think that the goal
of a climber is just to be on top without making the climb? Without having to
make an effort, without the climb, there is no summit point, no climax.
GIRL.
I’ll have a
climax. But, of course, it depends on you to some extent. So let’s have sex,
finally!
HUSBAND.
But we are
already having it!
GIRL.
Really? I
am an inexperienced girl, and easy to fool, but it seems to me that we’re doing
something else.
HUSBAND.
Sex is not
what you think, it’s not just the last fifteen minutes. It’s not the curtain
falling at the end of the last act; it’s a drama that has to be played out from
beginning to end. Words, gestures, looks, serenades, flowers, gifts, advances,
retreats, proposals, evasions – they all are a part of the great game called
sex. It’s a ceremony, a series of rituals as old as the rutting of deer or the
mating dance of cranes. It is a way of life, the foundation of culture. Fine
clothes are not just worn to be taken off at the right moment. The most refined
rules of etiquette, novels and poems, the sighs of violins and songs of flutes,
pictures and sculptures of the beautiful Venus – all of these are created to
convey the yearning of body and soul.
GIRL.
Listen…
HUSBAND.
No, you
listen to me! What an intricate interrelation of the sexes mankind has devised!
Certain parts of the body are concealed. Different clothes for different sexes.
Different standards of behavior for men and women. The “strong heroic man” and
the “weak fragile woman.” Don’t you see that none of this is accidental? It all
fits together, doesn’t it?
GIRL.
Are you all
right?
HUSBAND.
What do you
mean?
GIRL.
You’re
acting as though you’re from the century before last. You talk too much.
HUSBAND.
You
oversimplify life.
GIRL.
And you
make it too complicated. Sex is a very useful, very simple and very necessary
thing. Unfortunately, people go about this simple, pleasant and useful act in
complicated, roundabout ways and spend a lot of effort, time and money on it.
Why not simply approach someone, give them a big smile, stretch your hand and
say, “Let’s have sex!” Like saying, “Good morning” or “Good night.” And how can
it be a good night without sex?
HUSBAND.
You’re
right.
GIRL.
“Let’s have
sex!” should be used as a greeting. What better way to express an openness and
willingness to make contact?
HUSBAND.
You’re
right. And what would be the response to this greeting?
GIRL.
Something
casual. Like, “Thanks, my pleasure.” Or, “Always at your service.” Or just,
“Sure.”
HUSBAND.
And how
would we say goodbye?
GIRL.
There’s no
need to change anything. The words “See you later” already have a certain
sexual connotation. You can hear in them a promise of something sweet,
intimate, and long awaited .... At least I can. (Speaks quietly to herself.) “See you later ….”
HUSBAND.
See you
later. (Goås toward
the exit.)
GIRL.
Where are
you going?
HUSBAND.
You said,
“See you later.”
GIRL.
(Stopping him.) I was talking to myself. I swear,
you are crazy.
HUSBAND.
I’m
completely normal. Maybe a bit old-fashioned, that’s all.
GIRL.
That is crazy. But we’ve talked enough. Now
it’s high time to do something! We live in a time of action. If you’re not
always running to keep up, you’ll fall behind.
HUSBAND.
(Anxiously). Who can outdo me?
GIRL.
Anybody!
You talk, talk, talk, and meanwhile someone will come and snatch me from under
your very nose.
HUSBAND.
(Scared). Will you leave
with him?
GIRL.
If someone
takes me, I’ll leave. I’m a young, inexperienced girl, I don’t know how to
resist.
HUSBAND. Please – don’t leave!
GIRL.
Well,
alright. You said that we have to have some kind of foreplay. Let's play then.
Pretend this is not the first time we’ve met, but the second.
HUSBAND.
And then
what?
GIRL.
When we
meet the second time, we don’t necessarily have to talk. The formalities are
over, and we can get right to the main act.
HUSBAND.
No, I can’t
do it. Sex is an art, an act of creation …
GIRL.
So let’s
procreate!
HUSBAND.
But at
least tell me something about yourself first. What’s your name, what are your
interests…
GIRL.
I don’t
have any interests. I’m a young, inexperienced girl – pure, enthusiastic, and
romantic – who is interested only in sex.
HUSBAND.
And nothing
else?
GIRL. What “else” is there? (Thinks.) Maybe, also math.
HUSBAND.
Mathematics?
GIRL.
I once calculated
that at any given moment at least ten million people in the world are having
sex. Think of that! While we’re talking now and wasting time, at this very
moment five million couples pairs all over the world are doing what you and me
are not doing. If you laid them all out in a straight line six feet apart – the
width of a king-size bed – they would form a chain over five thousand miles
long! Can you imagine that? A cosmic process! A factory! It takes my breath
away!
HUSBAND.
Mine too.
GIRL.
So let's join
them!
HUSBAND.
Right here?
GIRL.
Right here,
right now. Hurry! We don’t have much time, you know!
The
HUSBAND hesitantly approaches the Girl, but suddenly shudders and listens in
fear.
HUSBAND.
Hush!
GIRL.
(Frightened). What?
HUSBAND.
Somebody’s coming!
Both
listen.
GIRL.
I just knew
that this would happen!
HUSBAND.
Hush!
Both
listen. Silence.
GIRL.
There is no
one coming. Hurry, let’s do it! Otherwise it will be too late.
HUSBAND.
Maybe
later? Not now and not here?
GIRL.
Are you
afraid?
HUSBAND.
Aren’t you?
GIRL.
To tell the
truth, I am. But you have to take the chance sometime. You have to prove
sometime that you have the right to do what you want.
HUSBAND.
Maybe
tomorrow?
GIRL.
And
tomorrow you won’t be afraid?
HUSBAND.
I’ll never
stop being afraid. I’m afraid all the time. I’m afraid to make a mistake. To
say sometime wrong. Take the wrong bus. Shake the wrong hand. Take the wrong
side. Bet on the wrong horse. Everybody is climbing, climbing, climbing, and
I’m afraid I can’t keep up. I don’t have the elbows, claws and teeth to make my
way through the jungle. I’m afraid of tomorrow. I’m afraid of next Friday. I
wait in fear of next month. I’m afraid I’ll lose my job. I’m afraid I’ll get
sick. I’m afraid of women. I’m afraid of old age. I’m afraid to die. And even
more afraid to live.
GIRL.
Calm down.
HUSBAND.
And this
damn money. Money, money, money! It’s all anyone thinks, talks and cares about.
Wives don’t want love from their husbands, just money. That alone is enough to
drive you crazy.
GIRL.
Aren’t you
afraid to always be afraid?
HUSBAND.
Of course I
am. Don’t you see what’s going on all around? Every day is the same, without
purpose and without hope. Nothing changes, and if it does change, then it’s
only for the worse. We are caught in a net and flop around like fish; we open
our mouths to scream, but nothing comes out; nobody hears. We keep running just
to stay in place – round and round in the same wheel, in the same cage, today
just like yesterday, tomorrow just like today, the day after tomorrow just like
always. We struggle to make our way up, up, up. Up the down escalator. All the
time we have no time. We want to have time to do everything we want to do, to
make all the money we want to have. We reach out, clutch hold and scramble up.
We’re almost there, so close, just one more step, just a little more effort –
grab it, take it! But there is nothing to grab because you can’t hold on to
happiness. That’s how we spend our lives; you can never get those years back. And
what is it all for, what for? You want to run away from this life, run as fast
as you can. But you just don’t have the strength to do it. You start to get out
of breath; you stop, look back and think. You get scared, and then you start
running again. So let's run away. There’s no time left!
GIRL.
You think
too much. You shouldn’t think. There is no tomorrow. There is only today. Don’t
think, OK?
HUSBAND.
You think
that we shouldn’t think?
GIRL. I think we should run
away, that’s all.
HUSBAND.
Where to?
GIRL.
The
important thing is not where to, but where from. Away from the place that we
hate, away from here. Here where nothing is possible, where everything is
forbidden, everything has to be by the rules and according to schedule. We’ll
escape to a better world, where everyone is free, where nothing is forbidden,
where there’s not a ceiling overhead, but a big high blue sky with big white
clouds floating by. Where people laugh; where they’re happy, and sing and
dance; they’re cheerful and never sick, and nobody tells them how to live or
what they have to do.
HUSBAND.
Is there
really such a world?
GIRL.
Yes, it
exists! It’s a world where no one is afraid, where everybody goes to bed
whenever they want to, with whomever they want to; where there is plenty of sun
and plenty of sex. Where no one is boss and everyone is happy.
HUSBAND.
And where
will we live without money?
GIRL.
Wherever we
want! We’ll live on a bench. In the bushes. On a soft green meadow. In a boat.
Yes, in a boat! We’ll lie in it, embracing, and it will rock gently and carry
us away, always to somewhere new. A brass band will meet us on every pier, and
the music will ring out, and they’ll shower us with flowers, and we’ll drift
and drift and have sex, and we’ll go so far that nobody will ever find us.
HUSBAND.… Nobody will ever find
us .… OK, let’s do it!.
GIRL.
When?
HUSBAND.
Right now.
GIRL.
Perfect.
Wait here for me. I’ll go get a glass of water, take a tranquilizer, and then
we’ll be ready to go.
HUSBAND.
Just come
right back, otherwise I’ll start thinking again.
GIRL.
And what
then?
HUSBAND.
I’ll start
having second thoughts and change my mind.
GIRL.
I forbid
you to think. You understand? Follow my example.
HUSBAND.
I’ll try.
GIRL.
Sit here,
don’t move, don’t do anything and don’t think. I’ll be right back, and we’ll
begin a new life!
The GIRL
goes out. The HUSBAND waits for her impatiently. There can be an intermission
here. The HUSBAND can stay on the stage, waiting for the GIRL.
PART TWO
The action
between the first and second acts can proceed without an intermission.
GIRL.
Perfect.
Wait here for me. I’ll go get a glass of water, take a tranquilizer, and then
we’ll be ready to go.
HUSBAND.
Just come
right back, otherwise I’ll start thinking again.
GIRL.
And what
then?
HUSBAND.
I’ll start
having second thoughts and change my mind.
GIRL.
I forbid
you to think. You understand? Follow my example.
HUSBAND.
I’ll try.
GIRL.
Sit here,
don’t move, don’t do anything and don’t think. I’ll be right back, and we’ll
begin a new life!
The GIRL
exits. The HUSBAND waits for her impatiently. The PROFESSOR enters.
PROFESSOR.
Let’s have
sex.
HUSBAND.
Thanks, my
pleasure.
Pause.
PROFESSOR.
Well?
HUSBAND.
What?
PROFESSOR.
I’m waiting
to see what will follow your "thanks".
HUSBAND.
I thought
it was a greeting.
PROFESSOR.
No, it was
a business offer. So?
HUSBAND.
I’m
willing.
PROFESSOR.
Then we’ll
get started.
HUSBAND.
(Looking around). I don’t see any women here.
PROFESSOR.
We can
manage perfectly well without them.
HUSBAND.
Without
women?!
PROFESSOR.
Certainly.
There’s you, there’s me, so there is a couple. What else do we need?
HUSBAND.
I beg your
pardon, but who are you?
PROFESSOR.
I am a
world-famous professor of psychiatry, psychology and sociology. A sexologist
and sex pathologist. Treatment, consulting, lecturing. I get rid of complexes,
inspire self-confidence, free people of their inhibitions. I cure frigidity and
impotence. I satisfy the unsatisfied. It’s very hard work. Lots of calls. I get
very tired.
HUSBAND.
I’m not
sure I understand exactly what you are offering concretely.
PROFESSOR.
To have
sex. What could be more concretely?
HUSBAND.
Professor,
with all due respect to you, to your wisdom, knowledge and age, to your gray
hair and infinite understanding, you are no substitute for a woman to me.
PROFESSOR.
Tell me,
are you an intelligent person?
HUSBAND.
I hope so.
PROFESSOR.
Very well.
Tell me, what is the most important thing in a partner for you – the body or
the soul?
HUSBAND.
The soul,
certainly.
PROFESSOR.
Then what
difference does it make what body this soul has, male or female?
HUSBAND.
For me – a
very big difference.
PROFESSOR.
Imagine a
kindred soul so fine, sublime, gifted, intellectual, sympathetic …
HUSBAND.
I have been
searching for such a soul for a very long time. But this soul should inhabit a
nice body, not too skinny and not too plump. And it is also important to me
that this soul would have a normal woman’s breasts, slender legs and blue eyes.
PROFESSOR.
In other
words, you’re against homosexual love?
HUSBAND.
Absolutely.
But I can understand lesbians. Who wouldn’t be attracted to a blushing, soft,
gentle, fresh, supple, appetizing, young female body. But any attraction to a
man is unnatural.
PROFESSOR.
But, you
see, some women find men to be rather attractive.
HUSBAND.
A
perversion. Women will always have their follies.
PROFESSOR.
Well, I’ll
find you a woman. By the way, I have just been talking to two ladies.
HUSBAND.
So have I.
PROFESSOR.
I have
every reason to believe that they will not object.
HUSBAND.
They’re
willing.
PROFESSOR.
Which do
you prefer - a plump blonde or a slim brunette?
HUSBAND.
That’s a
hard choice. What did you say, “a slim blonde or a plump brunette”?
PROFESSOR.
No, the
other way around – a plump blonde or a slim brunette.
HUSBAND.
I would
prefer a compromise.
PROFESSOR.
Namely?
HUSBAND.
A slender
redhead.
PROFESSOR.
And I
thought you would choose both.
HUSBAND.
That’s a
good idea. Where are the women?
PROFESSOR.
I don’t
know. Let’s get back to the subject. What I am offering is not a coarse carnal
act, but an educational process. In other words, I give lessons. Treatment,
consulting, lecturing.
HUSBAND.
What is
there to lecture about?
PROFESSOR.
How can you
even ask that? Sex is a kind of transaction. And, as in any transaction, you
must be considerate, discreet, skillful, and most important, persuasive. Are
you persuasive in sex?
HUSBAND.
I don’t
know what to say …
PROFESSOR.
Don’t
hesitate to admit your weakness. Such shyness is a prejudice. Unfortunately,
our society has not yet freed itself of its primitive values. Why isn’t
shameful to be a fool, an alcoholic, or a cheat, but it is to be impotent? If
you don’t have a leg or an eye, if you are short-sighted, skinny or fat, if you
are stupid and rude, it is not shameful. If you can’t support your family, it’s
pardonable. But woe to you if you’re incapable of this one thing. You must hide
it from everyone… (Sighs.) But, if
you think about it, who cares, really, except your girlfriend?
HUSBAND.
As for me,
I’m OK, I think. But I want to be successful. Earn a lot of money. I work hard,
I’m very busy. I think a lot. There’s no time left for sex. And, to tell the
truth, no strength either.
PROFESSOR.
That’s just
your mistake. You’re busy, but not with the right things. Only sex makes us all
equal, only sex frees us from feeling inferior to the arrogant highbrow elite.
If you’re sure of yourself as a man, you will be sure in everything else.
HUSBAND.
You think
so?
PROFESSOR.
I don’t
think so, I know so. Success requires an enormous effort. You have to study for
a long time, struggle, strive, push others aside, grit your teeth, pay your
dues and kiss ass. The only self-affirmation you get is from sex. It makes you
feel strong, important, necessary, and even superior, without studying anything,
without knowing anything, without any intelligence or talent. So you can enjoy
life. That is the advantage of sex over anything else you can do. If you are
successful in sex, you can’t be a loser. And, vice versa, if you’re a failure
at sex, nothing goes right. (Bitterly).
Believe me, I know.
HUSBAND.
There’s
some truth to what you’re saying.
PROFESSOR.
The naked
truth. I’m willing to teach you for twenty years and then you’ll see that… (Suddenly presses his hand to his chest,
groans and falls into an armchair.)
HUSBAND.
What’s
wrong?
PROFESSOR.
My heart…
HUSBAND.
Do you have
your pills?
PROFESSOR.
(Breathes heavily.) Usually, a sister comes and gives
me a shot.
HUSBAND.
Should I
call the sister?
PROFESSOR.
(Hastily). No, don’t do that! I’ll feel
better soon… Or maybe not. (Pause).
My life is over - and what is there for me to remember? If I could start my
life all over I wouldn’t want to. In kindergarten I dreamed of going to school
as soon as possible. At school I dreamed of finishing it as soon as possible.
At the university I dreamed of being on my own as soon as possible. At work I
dreamed of retirement since my first day on the job. When I got married, I
dreamed of divorce. Whenever I had sex with a woman, I dreamed of another woman
and different sex. All my life I dreamed of another life. What now? Start all
over and live the same life, dreaming of something else?
HUSBAND.
So you too
dream of another life and different sex?
PROFESSOR.
Not of
different sex anymore. Once I had it every day. Then every other day. Then once
a week. Then once a month. I can’t understand it: as the years go by, I have
more and more skill and experience, but for some reason less desire. There is
more and more theory and less and less practice. Why is that? And, you know, my
work is very hard. Lots of calls. I get very tired.
HUSBAND.
So do I.
PROFESSOR.
I’m too old
for this kind of work. When I was younger the hand of my clock stood at ten or
eleven, and now it barely reaches eight. To tell the truth, it stopped at six a
long time ago .… I try to remember now and I can’t – when was it?
HUSBAND.
When was
what?
PROFESSOR.
When was
the last time I had sex?
HUSBAND.
Did you
ever have it?
PROFESSOR.
Oh yes,
lots of it. At lectures and in libraries. At seminars and conferences. But even
that was a long, long time ago.
HUSBAND.
Don’t give
up.
PROFESSOR.
Yes, my
friend, everything in the world has changed for me now. There are juicy steaks,
but no teeth. Beautiful women, but no money. There is a rich past, but no
future. There is everything, but there is nothing. Soon I too will not be. (He clutches his chest again and groans.)
HUSBAND.
Maybe I
should call the sister?
PROFESSOR.
(Scared). No! (Pause). People used to believe that a guardian angel watches over
us all our life. But at the appointed hour he abandons us, and the angel of
death takes his place. What do you think does he look like?
HUSBAND.
I don’t
know… An old woman dressed in black, holding a scythe… Or a grinning skeleton.
What do you think?
PROFESSOR.
Sometimes I
feel death so very close, but I can’t see it. Maybe, it comes in the guise of
an ordinary soldier with a tommy-gun, or a surgeon with a scalpel, or a sister
with a syringe...
HUSBAND.
(Echoes him.) Yes, a sister with a syringe…
PROFESSOR.
The worst
thing is that it’s always near. It may knock on the door at any minute. Wave
the scythe. Press the trigger. Stick in the needle. (Quietly.) Look, is that her?
HUSBAND.
(Frightened). Who? The sister with the syringe?
PROFESSOR.
(Whispering). I’m afraid she has already come.
HUSBAND.
Where?
PROFESSOR.
I don’t
know. I always have the feeling she’s somewhere close by, behind my back,
watching me.
HUSBAND.
(Whispering). Me too.
PROFESSOR.
Go see.
HUSBAND.
(Looks around the room and checks the exits.) There’s nîbody here.
PROFESSOR.
Thank God. (Sighs). We must hurry up and live
before she puts her hand on our shoulder. And what are we doing? How are we
using the hours we have left? Do you ever wonder: where do all the days go
away? Meanwhile And meanwhile she may come at any moment, this witch with her
syringe.
HUSBAND. Yes, there’s nowhere to hide from
her. I keep thinking about her myself.
PROFESSOR.
(His hand on his chest, listens to himself.) I think I’m getting
better… (Gets up from the armchair,
cautiously takes a few steps and quickly cheers up.) We’ll still get by for
a while! Forgive me for this moment of weakness, this attack of fleeting
pessimism! There are so many pleasures in the world! A good steak, a glass of
red wine, the sun, women, flowers! Life is fine, my friend! Especially if
there’s sex in it! By the way, I forgot to ask, who are you and what are you
doing here?
HUSBAND.
Me?… I… uh
PROFESSOR.
It’s not at
all important, though. What’s important is that both of us are young and
healthy. We must hurry up and live! Let's sing, let's dance! Turn on the music!
A fiery
tango starts to play.
Wonderful! Superb! Perfect! Listen
to me: I have a splendid idea…
GIRL.
(Entering). Let’s have sex.
PROFESSOR.
That is
just what I was going to say. Would you like to dance, and we can discuss the
details.
The
PROFESSOR and the GIRL dance.
GIRL.
Which
details interest you?
PROFESSOR.
What,
where, when.
GIRL.
Sex, here,
now.
PROFESSOR.
With whom?
GIRL.
With you.
The
HUSBAND breaks in and starts dancing with the GIRL.
HUSBAND.
What were
you talking about?
GIRL.
The
professor was interested in the details of my offer.
HUSBAND.
I’m
interested in them too.
GIRL.
I’m ready
to reveal them. (She makes a provocative
move.)
HUSBAND.
Very
impressive details.
GIRL.
And the
entire offer?
Now the
PROFESSOR breaks in and dances with the GIRL. During the subsequent dialogue
she passes from one partner to another.
PROFESSOR.
Which of us
is your offer addressed to?
GIRL.
Both of
you.
PROFESSOR.
Together or
one after the other?
GIRL.
Do you
really think I’m that depraved?
PROFESSOR.
So, one
after the other?
GIRL.
So,
together.
HUSBAND.
You’re
kidding!
GIRL.
Not at all.
To have sex with two people one after the other is deceit and infidelity. To do
it together is honest, interesting and fun.
HUSBAND.
I’ll have
to think about that.
GIRL.
Again?
You’re thinking again? (Passing
to the Professor.) And what about you?
PROFESSOR.
As I
understand, you propose a group dance.
GIRL.
You think
it’s better to do it alone?
HUSBAND.
Together,
you and me, just the two of us.
GIRL.
Two, three,
four together – what’s the difference? Just not to be alone, never be alone...
HUSBAND.
But think
about this: while one lady is being entertained by two men at once here, maybe
another woman somewhere is left all alone.
GIRL.
So call her
here!
HUSBAND.
(Perplexed.) Whom?
GIRL.
The woman,
so we can all be lonely together.
HUSBAND.
I was
speaking hypothetically; I didn’t mean anyone in particular.
GIRL. Never
mind. Go and find her. Cherchez la femme!
The
HUSBAND and the PROFESSOR exit. The WIFE enters.
WIFE.
Let’s have
sex.
GIRL.
OK.
Pause.
WIFE.
But who is
there to do it with?
GIRL.
Don’t you
know?
WIFE.
No.
GIRL.
So why did
you say, “Let’s have sex”?
WIFE.
I thought
you might know.
GIRL.
If I knew,
I wouldn’t be sitting here alone.
WIFE.
Did you
offer yourself to anybody?
GIRL.
To
everybody.
WIFE.
And?
GIRL.
No result.
WIFE.
Maybe they
were afraid you would ask for money?
GIRL.
No, I
explained I was ready to do it for free.
WIFE.
And?
GIRL.
Same
result.
WIFE.
Did you
offer them money?
GIRL.
No. Only
myself.
WIFE.
That was
your mistake.
GIRL.
I know.
WIFE.
You should
have offered to pay.
GIRL.
I know. But
I don’t have any money. That’s the problem.
WIFE.
When you
have money, you don’t have to look for men. They will look for you.
GIRL.
Nobody
looks for me.
WIFE.
That’s too
bad. We need to have a family,
house, money, social status. And for all this we need a man.
GIRL.
Where can
we find a man like that?
WIFE.
Such a man
simply doesn’t exist. That’s why it’s better to have several of them.
GIRL.
I know. But
I don’t have money. I have only myself.
WIFE.
What do you
do at work?
GIRL.
I do my
work, what else.
WIFE.
I mean what
work? Sex?
GIRL.
No. Work is
when you do something that you don’t want to do, but you get paid for.
WIFE.
Sometimes
men pay for sex.
GIRL.
They don’t
pay me.
WIFE.
Me either.
Pause.
WIFE.
Are you
married?
GIRL.
No.
WIFE.
That’s too
bad. A woman should be married. I would like to be married, but without a
husband.
GIRL.
For me it’s
not important to be married, but I want a husband.
Pause.
I wonder why women are so unlucky
nowadays? It seems like the more progress we make, the less happy we are.
WIFE.
I think we
just can’t compete with computers. We’re not as smart and contain less
information.
GIRL.
And we are
less exciting than a picture on the screen.
WIFE.
Maybe women
were not created just for sex?
GIRL.
(Indignant). What do you mean “not for sex”?
For what then? Why do we have our earrings, bracelets, chains, necklaces,
brooches, and rings? Why the perfume, creams, powder, mascara, and lipstick?
What are the combs, tweezers, scissors, and hairpins for? Only to attract, to
entice, to be liked! To be liked for what? For just one thing! We were created
for sex, we live for it. That is why we should dedicate
ourselves completely
to
this purpose, one hundred percent, not missing a single day, hour or minute!
WIFE.
But there
are exceptions...
GIRL.
No
exceptions. Even the driest, strictest, coldest, prudish old maid is a walking
sexpot.
WIFE.
You’re
right. (After a pause). Maybe I’m
just not attractive?
GIRL.
(Puts on glasses and looks at the Wife.) No, you are still quite
something.
WIFE.
Do you like
what you see?
GIRL.
Yes.
WIFE.
Maybe, we
can get by without men? Since they are nowhere to be found....
GIRL.
No, I can’t
have it that way. But I can understand gay men, though. Who wouldn’t be
attracted to a strong, muscular, young male body. But a female body ... No way. (Removes glasses.)
WIFE.
You wear
glasses?
GIRL.
I only put
them on when I’m having sex. So I can see everything.
WIFE.
What is
there to see?
GIRL.
Sex should
involve all of the sense organs. Eyes. Ears. Nose. Hands. Legs. Skin. So I
carry glasses in my bag all the time, to be ready. To tell you the truth, I
haven’t yet had a chance to put them on. It’s my dream – to put on the glasses,
close my eyes and enjoy.
WIFE.
You are
crazy.
GIRL.
No, I’m
just enthusiastic and romantic. I keep searching. Not a day without a line..
Not an hour without an adventure. And I’m still bored. I’m tired of searching.
I want to have something constant and steady. Steady sex. Every day. Every
hour. Sex early in the morning. Sex late in the morning. Sex at work. Sex on
lunch break. Sex in the bus on the way home. Sex in the evening in front of the
TV. Sex in bed before going to sleep. Sex in the shower. Sex in my sleep. Sex
before. Sex after.
WIFE.
After what?
GIRL.
After
everything. Before everything. Instead of everything. Always. Everywhere. With
everybody. (Sighs). If I didn’t know
that I’m already crazy, I’d think I’m losing my mind.
WIFE.
So you love
to love?
GIRL.
Oh yes! If
I could, I would love all the men in the world!
WIFE.
Why do you
love sex so much?
GIRL.
How can you
not love it? Sex is the opposite of loneliness. Sex means two people together.
At least two. That’s already a salvation. It’s the culmination and embodiment
of intimacy. Besides, I love sex because it helps to satisfy our main need – to
talk. To my heart’s content, openly, frankly. That’s why it is called “intimate
relations.” A unique opportunity to tell everything about yourself. And to
listen too, but the most important thing is to tell someone else. How it’s
going between you and him. How it’s going between you and others. How it’s
going between him and others. How it’s going between others and others.
WIFE.
He and I
don’t talk while we’re doing it.
GIRL.
And
afterwards?
WIFE.
Afterwards?
What is there to talk about afterwards?
PROFESSOR
(Entering.) Girls, there is no need to talk afterwards, before, or instead.
Stop talking, stop wasting time, let’s have sex.
GIRL.
Thanks, my
pleasure.
PROFESSOR.
Then sit
down, get out your notebooks, and we shall start.
GIRL.
I am
willing to do it sitting down, but what are the notebooks for?
PROFESSOR.
For taking
notes.
GIRL.
Taking
notes? I’ll remember everything without any notes.
WIFE.
As for me,
I have no desire for group lessons. And
besides, I’m jealous.
PROFESSOR.
My dear,
you’re out of fashion. Jealousy has been out of date for a long time now. Even
a brainless hen isn’t jealous. How can an educated woman of the twenty-first
century talk about being jealous?
GIRL.
The hen is
not jealous because it’s her nature to bring up her chicks without a husband,
and therefore she doesn’t need him. People raise their children together, and
that is why jealousy is genetically inherent in a woman. Necessary or not,
reasonable or not, we are jealous.
PROFESSOR.
With all
due respect, I must say that you display surprising erudition and intelligence
for such a young, inexperienced girl.
WIFE.
And
besides, you just promised to run away with me.
GIRL.
And with
me, too.
PROFESSOR.
It’s very
strange. As soon as I offer to have sex, everybody wants to run away. But I’m
ready. Let’s go!
GIRL.
Let’s go
who?
PROFESSOR.
Both of
you. Let’s run!
All three
run after each other around the room. The HUSBAND enters and joins the run.
After a few rounds, he stops.
HUSBAND.
(Panting.) Enough running. It would be better
to have sex.
The
girl, Wife and PROFESSOR. (Stopping and catching
their breath.) Thanks, my pleasure.
PROFESSOR.
By the way,
we have already met today.
HUSBAND.
Better to
greet each other twice, than not at all. Where are you running to?
PROFESSOR.
We aren’t
running, we’re talking
HUSBAND.
About what?
GIRL.
About sex,
of course.
HUSBAND.
Why do we
only talk about sex all the time? I’m sick of it. Let's talk about something
else.
GIRL.
What?
HUSBAND.
I don’t
know. Just not about that.
WIFE.
I agree.
I’m tired of it too. Not a word about sex!
PROFESSOR.
It’s
settled then.
Pause.
WIFE.
What will
we talk about?
HUSBAND.
About
something intelligent. Like normal people.
GIRL.
(With enthusiasm.) Sure!
Pause.
WIFE.
Let's talk!
Let’s have a clever and cheerful conversation. OK?
GIRL.
That’s what
I’ve dreamed about for a long time.
PROFESSOR.
So have I.
Pause.
HUSBAND.
It’s
pleasant to talk about something intelligent, isn’t it?
PROFESSOR.
(With enthusiasm.) It certainly is!
GIRL.
Sure!
Pause.
WIFE.
Well, why
are you all so quiet?
GIRL.
What about
you?
WIFE.
I just
don’t know how to start. (To the
Professor). You begin, you’re the professor, aren’t you?
PROFESSOR.
Ì-ì... Well, to tell you
the truth, being a professor I have gotten used to talking only on professional
subjects.
GIRL.
And what is
your profession?
PROFESSOR.
You know -
sex. I can talk about sex forever.
WIFE.
No, sex is
a forbidden subject.
GIRL.
(Sighing). Yes, it’s prohibited
WIFE.
Naturally. So
we agreed.
Pause.
HUSBAND.
Well, I can
start.
Everyone
prepares to listen.
Mm-mm… One day a
husband unexpectedly comes home early and finds his wife with a lo...
WIFE.
(Interrupting). Stop! We have agreed to speak only
of intelligent things. And no sex.
HUSBAND.
About
intelligent things? Well then... (After
thinking a bit). One day an intelligent husband comes home early and finds
his intelligent wife in bed with a very intelligent lover…
Pause.
WIFE.
And what
then?
HUSBAND.
Nothing. He
found out a lot of new things that day.
Pause.
PROFESSOR.
Who else
wants to talk about something intelligent?
Pause.
Is
it possible that no one has anything to say about literature, theater, music?
GIRL.
To tell the
truth, the literature doesn’t interest me.
WIFE.
And I don’t
like music.
HUSBAND.
I know
nothing about theatre.
PROFESSOR.
So I must
conclude that in modern society where everyone is equal in their lack of
culture, the only subject that always interests absolutely everybody, that
everyone loves and understands is sex.
WIFE.
Well, if we
can’t talk about intelligent things, let everyone talk about what’s interesting
for them.
Pause.
GIRL.
I wonder
what else can be interesting, other than sex?
Pause.
For example, I’m interested to know
if sex can ever be uninteresting.
WIFE.
It happens.
PROFESSOR.
To be
honest, nothing interests me anymore.
Not even sex.
GIRL.
I am not
interested in sex either. But sex is interested in me. Very much so.
WIFE.
We have
slipped into sex again. Can’t we talk about anything else?
GIRL.
(Glumly.) About something
intelligent?
PROFESSOR.
Only about
intelligent things.
Pause.
WIFE.
Let's talk
about love. May we speak about love?
PROFESSOR.
About love?
Certainly.
GIRL.
Why can we
speak of love, and not sex? Aren’t they both the same thing?
PROFESSOR.
Absolutely
not.
GIRL.
In my
opinion, “love” is simply an ancient word for sex.
HUSBAND.
The word
“sex” was probably censored back then, and the word “love” was used instead.
GIRL.
No. Love,
it seems to me, is some other thing. I don’t remember exactly what. We studied
about it at school... It’s something that took place in the distant past.
WIFE.
So what’s
the difference between them?
PROFESSOR.
Well,
what’s important in love is the partner, while in sex it’s the process.
GIRL.
What if the
partner is good and the process is bad?
PROFESSOR.
Besides,
it’s thought that women prefer love, while men prefer sex.
GIRL.
That’s not
true. I am a young, inexperienced girl, and I don’t know what men prefer. But I
do know what women want.
HUSBAND.
Professor,
what’s better – sex or love?
PROFESSOR.
Sex,
without a doubt. Sex is good for your health, while love is harmful.
WIFE.
Why?
PROFESSOR.
Love
involves too many negative emotions. Excitement, jealousy, demands, depression,
excuses and whatnot, while sex provides only pure pleasure. Love leaves us with
distressing memories, taut nerves and bitter disappointment, while sex only
creates pleasant exhaustion and a strong appetite.
HUSBAND.
And
besides, love takes up a lot of time. All these conversations, bouquets, walks,
talks, invitations, presents... Who can afford it nowadays? Who can find even a
free half hour? Having sex only takes a few minutes.
GIRL.
Yes, sex is
somehow more modern.
HUSBAND.
Look, what
an intelligent conversation we are having!
GIRL.
And not at
all about sex!
WIFE.
(Nervously). The problem is that we’re only
talking again. And wasting time.
HUSBAND.
What else
can we do?
WIFE.
I don’t
know. I only know that we have to do something. Are any of you pleased with
your life?
Pause.
I’m asking all of
you, are you pleased with your life?
PROFESSOR.
No.
GIRL.
No.
HUSBAND.
No.
WIFE.
So why are
we sitting here, chattering and pretending to be happy?
GIRL.
Who
pretends? I don’t.
HUSBAND.
But what
can we do?
WIFE.
What I
proposed a long time ago – run away.
GIRL.
We can’t
escape from ourselves.
WIFE.
So what can
we do?
GIRL.
We have to
act, we have to finally change something. It doesn’t matter what. Wreck it,
break it, set it on fire. I don’t know about you, but I’d love to do something
like that.
WIFE.
We all
would.
PROFESSOR.
We must
unite. We must rise up! All of us
together.
GIRL. Yes, unite!
HUSBAND.
It’s not so
easy. We are all so different...
PROFESSOR.
We’ll come
together! Develop a common platform…
GIRL.
What
platform? Leave that for later. The only way to come together quickly is sex.
People can sit in the same office for a hundred years, meet each other at
parties, drink together and go to picnics every weekend, but that won’t make
them as close as a single night spent together!
HUSBAND.
(Excited). So let's come together!
PROFESSOR.
Right! Sex
is the only language that everyone understands and enjoys, from Eskimos to
Mongols. That’s why it brings peace, mutual understanding and goodwill. Long
live sex!
GIRL.
(Pulls the tablecloth off the table, attaches it
to a mop and swings it like a banner.) Hurrah!
GIRL.
Freedom -
now!
HUSBAND.
(Jumps up on the table.) Long live the
revolution!
WIFE. We have nothing to lose, but our
chains!
GIRL.
Genitals of
the world, unite!
The SISTER
enters, carrying a box of medicines.
SISTER.
Let’s have… (Stops). What’s wrong with you? What’s
happened?
Pause. The
HUSBAND climbs down from the table, the GIRL lowers the flag. Everyone is
tense.
WIFE.
Nothing
happened.
SISTER.
Why are you
all you looking at me like that?
GIRL.
We’re
looking the way we normally look.
SISTER.
“Normally?”
WIFE.
Who are you
and what are you doing here?
SISTER.
You know
perfectly well who am I. So stop talking. We’d better have … (To the Girl, who has made an impatient
movement.) What? Do you object?
GIRL.
Me? Not at
all.
SISTER.
Good. So
let’s have our evening treatment.
PROFESSOR.
We don’t
want it.
SISTER.
My dear, if
we can’t live the way we want, we all have to live the best we can.
GIRL.
We don’t, we
can’t, and we won’t.
SISTER.
You have
to.
WIFE.
Nobody has
to do anything.
SISTER.
Come on
now, let’s be good little boys and girls.
HUSBAND.
We’re
already good enough.
SISTER.
You want me to use force?
WIFE. Forget about force. It’s on our
side!
GIRL.
I have an
idea! We’ll give her a shot. It will
calm her down.
WIFE.
Do you know
how?
GIRL.
What’s
there to know? You think I never shot up?
SISTER.
What is
this – Mutiny on the Bounty?
GIRL.
We told you
– no treatment today.
WIFE.
Or
tomorrow.
HUSBAND.
Not ever.
PROFESSOR.
We are free
people.
SISTER.
There is no
freedom. Duty, self-control and discipline are required everywhere.
WIFE.
Stop this
lecturing. We don’t know you and don’t want to.
SISTER.
But I know
you very well.
GIRL.
What do you
know about us?
SISTER.
You have
seen that people are malicious. Selfish. Aggressive. Stupid. You were deceived,
hated, used and abandoned. And you decided to run from life. Didn’t you?
GIRL.
Go away, we
don’t like you.
SISTER.
That’s
because I am your mirror. A mirror you don’t want to look into. But I’ll still
make you look into it.
WIFE.
(Ironically). I wonder what I’ll see there.
SISTER. You’ll see yourself. Look closely. You imagine
yourself being somebody’s wife, even though you’re not married and never were.
An old maid with complexes. You read a lot of novels about unhappy marriages
and you fuss about how you’re tired of family life and of your nonexistent
husband. But do you know how hard it really is to see your tired, apathetic
husband every night, with that perpetually dissatisfied look on his face? In
your case history it says that you’re a virgin. That alone is enough to drive
you crazy. If it’s true, you really do need sex therapy. So stop complaining
and find yourself a husband. If you can.
WIFE. (Gloomily). It’s easy
for you to say.
SISTER.
A woman
should be inviting, alluring. But you wear a tired scowl on your face; it makes
you look like you just drank some vinegar. And you expect to attract men
looking like that?
WIFE.
And how do
you think I should do it?
SISTER.
Fewer
complaints and more cosmetics. More lipstick and smiles. A shorter skirt, and a
lower neckline. If you want to run from men, run, but don’t run so fast that
they can’t catch you. Push them away, but do it so that they hold you even
tighter. Resist, but only to make the conquest more pleasing for them. Refuse,
but in a way that makes it clear you will give in. Be cold, only so that he
will warm you up and not you freeze him. .
GIRL.
Every
schoolgirl knows that lesson. Even I do.
SISTER.
(To the Girl). And you, “a young, romantic,
inexperienced girl” … Have you forgotten that you have already been married
three times? Three times! A normal woman can’t even endure one marriage. Did
you drive your husbands crazy, or vice versa – I don’t
know. And you keep wondering, “Why do they always leave me? What is there about
me that others don’t like? Are all these men to blame for abandoning me, or is
it my own fault?” And so you invent a new biography for yourself, trying to
deceive others and, most of all, yourself. But does it work?
PROFESSOR.
Maybe
you’re the one inventing a new biography, not her?
SISTER.
By the way,
professor… Tell me, how are you going to run away in your condition? Your
children got rid of you, there is nobody to look after you, and you are going
crazy with your loneliness
and their ingratitude.… Who is waiting for you and
where? Sit here quietly, eat your mashed vegetables, and lecture on the theory
of sex. You won’t find anyone to listen to you anywhere else. Besides, if I am
not mistaken, you are not professor at all, but a former high school English
teacher. But no one can make a living teaching literature nowadays, it has gone
out of fashion. Sex is far more popular, so you’ve declared yourself a
sexologist. (To the Husband). And
you, young man, I advise you to marry.
HUSBAND.
Me?
SISTER.
Your former
wife – no, not this woman here, another one – threw you out of the house so you
wouldn’t bother her and her lover. Since then you’ve been afraid of all women.
You’re afraid that they will take away your freedom. That they will want you to
marry them. That they will be unfaithful and leave you. That they will take up
all your time and spend all your money. That they will make you quarrel with
your mother and come between you and your friends. That you will be bored and
unhappy with them.… Stop being afraid of life! Be strong. Though in this life
it’s harder to be strong than to be weak…
HUSBAND.
But I
thought…
SISTER.
Stop
thinking. Thinking is dangerous. Learn to live without thinking. Don’t think
what will happen in ten years. Or in one year. Or tomorrow. Learn to live
today. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. Every one of us should say this
to himself ten times a day. “Tomorrow” is a bad word. Tomorrow we may be ruined.
Lose our job. Get sick. Die. If you think of all of this, it can drive you
crazy.
WIFE. You have an
interesting tale to tell about each of us, but what about you? If you’re a
mirror, would you like to look into it yourself?
SISTER. No.
WIFE. Then we’ll help you
do it. (Brings a
mirror to the Sister’s face.) Who do you see?
The SISTER
does not answer.
Don’t want to say?
So I’ll tell you. First of all,
you’re not a sister.
the
SISTER. That’s lie. Who am I,
then?
WIFE. I don’t know.
Someone who likes to make up stories about other people, a tired, sick woman
who, for some reason, thinks she is a sister. And why would we even care who
you are?
PROFESSOR. (To the Sister). I suppose you think
we’re in an asylum? That’s absurd. I could just as easily say that it’s a
hotel.
GIRL. Or a resort.
WIFE. Or that we’re at
home.
HUSBAND. Or at work at
the office.
PROFESSOR. So stop
lecturing us and trying to cure us.
WIFE. Take care of your
own problems. We’re going to run away from here.
SISTER. Where to?
HUSBAND. To a better
place.
SISTER. You have no place
to go. There’s nowhere better, everywhere is only worse. Here, everywhere, and
always.
GIRL. We’ll run away
anyway.
SISTER. You will never
get away from here. You are not so crazy that you want to return to the world
of normal people. That world is a big madhouse full of emptiness and violence.
PROFESSOR. How can something be “full of emptiness”?
SISTER. It is. And stop deceiving yourselves. You’re sick and you know
it.
HUSBAND. So what should we do?
SISTER. (Wearily). Go to sleep. It’s late.
Nobody moves.
Well, why don’t you go?
HUSBAND. I don’t want to stay
alone in my room.
PROFESSOR. Neither do I.
SISTER. Go on. I’m very
tired. I’m on duty tonight. It’s going to be a long, long night…. And I’ll be
alone. Worse than alone.
Nobody leaves.
WIFE. Can’t you ever have even a few kind words for
us?
The Sister keeps silent.
GIRL. Have pity on us. We’re so lonely and miserable.
SISTER. Go on. Leave me
alone.
Everybody reluctantly leaves. The SISTER remains alone.
You’re lonely and
miserable? I should have pity on you? Which one of you knows what real
loneliness is like? Absolute, solitary loneliness? What do you know of true
longing for real sex? Which of you understands true longing for real life? Do
you understand what it means to be a sister in a place like this? To work with
lunatics who you can’t even talk to normally? To listen to their accusations
and complaints and realize that it won’t be long before I go crazy myself?
Every morning I enter this mad, mad, mad world, and in the evening I go back to
a world that seems even more insane. But I still have to work; I have to live.
And what for? To give you your pills and shots and to feel your hatred? Do you
know that I already take the same pills and I give myself the same shots?
Because insanity is contagious, no matter what the doctors say.
Have pity on you? Yes, I
understand you. You talk about sex, but it’s actually your thirst for love and
warmth. You’re tired… You’re tired of real life and try to find refuge in an
imaginary world. If you only knew how well I understand! I’m tired too. I need
some peace and quiet. Peace… Not to think. Not to plan. Not to hope in vain.
Not to think…
Long
pause, silence. The SISTER approaches one of the doors and knocks.
(Through a door.) Let's have sex.
No answer.
The SISTER knocks more loudly and repeats.
Do you hear me?
Let's have sex!
No answer.
The SISTER approaches another door.
Do you hear me?
Hey! Let's have sex!
No answer.
The SISTER knocks at the next door. Then at the next one. No answer. Then the
SISTER addresses to the audience (probably there is an invisible door between
her and them).
Let's have sex!
The end