Valentin Krasnogorov - THEATER PLAYS

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. (Go е s 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.