The Man in Chair is a talkative, intelligent man, something of a
Okay. Now here it comes. The moment I was talking about [...] a moment that has fascinated me more than any other and that has brought me back to this record again and again. Here it comes. (Pause). You can’t quite make out what she says because someone drops a cane. Is she saying “live while you can,” or “leave while you can”? And that’s exactly what you think when you’re standing at the altar, isn’t it, “Live” or “Leave” and you have to live. [... ... ...] So, one day [...] you say “I love you” and you basically phrase it as a question, but they accept it as fact and then suddenly there she is standing in front of you in a three thousand dollar dress with tears in her eyes, and her nephew made the huppah, so what do you do? [...] You choose to live. And for a couple of months you stare at the alien form in the bed beside you and you think to yourself “Who are you? Who are you?” And one day you say it out loud…then it’s a trial separation and couples counseling and all your conversations are about her eating disorder and your Zoloft addiction, [...] and the whole “relationship” ends on a particularly ugly note with your only copy of Gypsy spinning through the air and smashing against the living room wall. But still, in the larger sense, in a broader sense, it’s better to have lived than left, right?
For full extended monologue, please refer to clips or the script edition cited here: Bob Martin and Don McKeller, The Drowsy Chaperone, Music Theater International, pp. 66-67.
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