Bride Locked in Bathroom

(comedic monologue for women 25+)

by Melanie White

Mom, I’m not coming out.  I don’t care what you say.  I’m not listening to you anymore.  I’m a grown woman, and I can make my own decisions.  I know you and Dad spent a lot of money on this wedding, but I just can’t go through with it.  I know he’s a great guy.  That’s the problem.  You and Dad like him too much.  Who wants to marry someone who your parents like?  I mean, he’s a musician, for God’s sakes.  You’re supposed to say, “What kind of future are you going to have with a musician?  He’ll probably cheat on you while he’s on the road with some bimbo groupie.”  Then I’m supposed to defend him.  “No, he loves me.  He would never do that to me.” But no…not only do you like him, you go to see him in concert – telling me things like “it looks like he’s got a promising future and other bullshit like that.  Are you trying some kind of reverse psychology on me?  I mean, really, you heard him sing – it’s more like yelling really.  And the music is so loud, you can’t even hear yourself think.  When I was a teenager, you were always telling me to “turn that crap down.”

I mean, you’re supposed to want me to marry a doctor or lawyer, or some other boring asshole like that.  Som- guy in s suit - that would make more sense.  But no, no, you approve of Slasher – a guy with 18 piercings (that’s right, there are two you don’t know about) and a heart tattoo.  I mean what self-respecting rocker has a heart tattoo – and he put my name in the middle.  You said you thought it was cute.  Do you know what kind of pressure that puts me under to make this whole thing work?  I mean, fuck the marriage.  You can always get annulled or a divorce or whatever.  But a tattoo lasts forever.

What if I can’t live up to his expectations?  I mean, just look at Valerie Bertarelli.  She couldn’t make it last with David Lee Roth’s brother, what’s his name?  Oh yeah, Eddie Van Halen – the guy that had that goofy smile on his face all the time.  And just look at her.  She’s gorgeous.  Even in my wedding dress, I’m not as gorgeous as her before she went on Jenny Craig.  And this should be the day when I look the prettiest in my whole life.  I say we just call the whole thing off, and I’ll take the honeymoon in Europe.  Maybe I can find myself or at least a French guy named Pierre who can make me forget this whole Slasher fiasco.