STEPHANIE. Look, we are having the break...

STEPHANIE. Look, we are having the break up conversation. You are breaking up with me. That means I can talk about whatever I want. Those are the rules. So shut the f##k up and listen to whatever I have to say.

PAUL. I’ll give you seven minutes. That seems about right for a three month relationship.

STEPHANIE. Fine. So I’m in the gynecologist office—

PAUL. (walking away and returns) Wait a minute—

STEPHANIE. What are you doing?

PAUL. I’m setting a timer.

STEPHANIE. You’re such an asshole. No wonder I’m breaking up with you.

PAUL. (overlapping) I’m breaking up with--

STEPHANIE. Well, first of all, the room where they –check you out—

PAUL. Check you out?

STEPHANIE. I was trying not to say “give you a pap smear.” They weigh me with all my clothes on, including my boots. I weigh myself again when all I’m wearing is this hideous hospital gown. Four pounds. All day long, I’m wearing four pounds of clothes. I feel so weighed down. I feel--

PAUL. (overlapping) I’m not fond of winter either. But you’re used to it. I’m the one from California. I’m the one--

STEPHANIE. (overlapping) Hey—this isn’t about you. I only have seven minutes.

PAUL. (looking down at the timer) Six.

STEPHANIE. So there’s no space, nowhere to put your clothes—I hide my bra and underwear between my long johns and my long sleeved shirt, because you don’t want this woman, the ob-gyn, to have to see your underwear even though she’s going to put this silver prong up your--

PAUL. (overlapping) Aaahh---

STEPHANIE. I was worried because I had to have a cyst removed from my ovary when I was eighteen; it was the size of a softball--

PAUL. You never told me that.

STEPHANIE. She didn’t feel a cyst, which was a relief. I asked her if I should stop taking my birth control pills.

PAUL. Why would you do that when--

STEPHANIE. Because I want to get pregnant.

PAUL. Woah, Woah, What? Are you--Have you not been—

STEPHANIE. (overlapping) Don’t panic, commitment phobe—I didn’t mean I wanted to get pregnant with you. It has nothing to do with you.

PAUL. (overlapping) Of course it has nothing to do with me. I’m just the person you’re having sex with.

STEPHANIE. (overlapping) I want to get pregnant. Me. ME! I was asking if it was a problem that I’ve been on the pill since I was 15 and I’m now 31. That’s half my life.

PAUL. It’s actually more than—

STEPHANIE. Shut up, you fucking accountant. So (composing herself) I asked, does that affect my chances of--

PAUL. Does it?

STEPHANIE. No. She said that people worry about the pill suppressing ovulation. She said it used to be that women spent most of their lives pregnant or nursing, and therefore—not ovulating. And get this. I spent $314 for six minutes of her time, so she could tell me what’s not normal is to be 31 and not already have children. In New York City. Where no one has children--

PAUL. She just meant historically. Or because of your clock.

STEPHANIE. I started doing the math. I mean, I’m not old like you—

PAUL. I’m 37!

STEPHANIE. Exactly. And I want to have one child by the time I’m 35.

PAUL. You’re only 31! And 37 is not old.

STEPHANIE. 35. With one child. I want to be married two years before I have a child. 33. You’re engaged a year. 32. You date for a year before that. 31. 31! This is the year I have to find the father of my child, and I can’t believe I’ve wasted my time on you.

PAUL. I’m breaking up with you. You’re supposed to take these (looking down) four minutes to convince me to stay with you. And you’re doing a lousy job. And you forgot about the nine months of pregnancy. You should already be with your future husband. Oh well.

In the Meantime was developed with The CRY HAVOC Company

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