For The Love Of…

In this comedic monologue for young women from the play, “For The Love Of…”, Natalie breaks up with her boyfriend, Chad. At least, that’s what we think she’s doing. (At the end, we see her talking to a mirror.)

NATALIE: It’s not me—it’s DEFINITELY you. Let’s just start with the socks and sandals. I mean, is this a fashion statement or a cry for help? Because honestly, it’s giving “lost tourist at Disney World.” And I tried to be cool about it, I did. But when you wore them to brunch—BRUNCH, Chad—there was no coming back from that.

And then there’s your texting. Three hours, Chad. Three hours to reply, “k.” That’s not a response, mmkay? I’d be like, “Hey, hope your day’s going well,” and you’d leave me hanging like I was waiting for a Hogwarts letter. But the moment you needed something, suddenly your thumbs worked just fine. “Can you pick up my dry cleaning?” Oh, now it’s urgent?

And don’t think I forgot about your pet snake. I told myself I could handle it, that I could be cool, but let’s be honest—Steve is terrifying. No, Chad, I don’t want to “hold him.” I already hold you together emotionally, and that’s enough reptiles for one lifetime.

But you know what broke me? The laundry. The “I don’t separate my colors because it all gets washed in water anyway” line? Chad. My guy. That’s why your white T-shirts are now pink! And then I had to listen to you complain about it, like I’m your unpaid stylist.

But this isn’t just about socks or snakes or even the fact that you still think putting your Venmo in your Instagram bio is “entrepreneurial.” No, this is about me. I deserve more. I deserve someone who doesn’t treat their car like it’s an extension of their personality. “The Chadillac?” Really? I didn’t sign up to date a midlife crisis.

I deserve someone who plans a date instead of saying, “Wanna hang?” Someone who eats vegetables without calling it “rabbit food.” Someone who…ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this…knows how to fold a fitted sheet.

So, Chad, this is goodbye. I’m done. I’m moving on to someone who knows the difference between a body wash and shampoo. But, like, I hope you’re happy. I really do. I just think we’re…different. You know? We’re just not…compatible.

And Chad? Please don’t ever text someone memes of minions saying “I’m bananas for you.” It was never cute.

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