Peter enters and sits in a chair.
PETER: People say shit they don't mean all the time, you know. You do it. I do it. You run into an buddy, you say, "hey we should hang out, grab some beers," whatever. You don't really mean it. Maybe you don't really have anything in common with the guy any more. You probably stopped hanging out for some reason, could be anything really. Twenty year old girls, they say lots of shit. I think they don't know if they mean it or not. Now, I know I'm not, like, an old guy but I'm not a kid either. I'm not like a lot of these other late twenty somethings living at mom and dad's house sipping homemade organic kool-aid talking about how the establishment is keep me down or how I'm just trying to find myself. Fuck that. Those people are lazy. Some of'em with their two or three degrees, just blame everyone but themselves for their lack of motivation. I read this article about it a couple months ago. It's like a total social phenomenon, late on-set adulthood, otherwise none as being a cry baby. Shit. Anyway, this isn't what I meant to talk about. I'm sorry. Gimme a sec. (Peter takes a drink of water.) It's just, I'm hanging out with Melba the other night at my place, we still haven't done it by the way. I don't want you thinking I'm a perve. So, yeah. We're at my place. I made stir fry. We ate, drank A GLASS of wine. Afterward, we're hanging out in my living room she's going through my Cds, which says is funny that I even have so many, and she pulls out Miles Davis Sketches of Spain. She says, hey let's listen to this. So I say a-ight. We put it on, we cuddle on the couch. She says she likes it. Then she tells me her friend Melina is planning on visiting Spain in a couple of months and she thinks she might want to go with her and I say, "cool, you should go." She says, "I think I might. I just need to scrounge up the cash. She's gonna be there for almost two months." Now, when Melba tells me this she's got this glow in her eyes. She's serious about going but in back of my mind I'm thinking, damn this sounds like a pipe dream. Like when I was in high school and me and my friend Benny use to talk about opening up a body shop that did custom work. We believed ourselves but we didn't have any follow through. So now, I'm feeling like a jackass because who the fuck am I to judge this young woman's desires? She could be making a check list right now of all the things she needs to get done to make it happen. I don't know. Then I realize this, how do I compete with Spain? I been thinking about it a lot. I'm this older guy and I think Melba finds that kind of exciting but shit, how long is that going to last? How long before she meets one of these skinny little hipster dudes that knows all her favorite bands and blogs about whatever the hell he blogs about. I mean shit. I don't get any of that stuff. I work in the accounting department. I look at ledgers all day. What's cool about that? Nothing. (Peter takes another drink of water.) I know what you're thinking, I'm over analyzing this. I'm been hanging out with girl for like a week and I'm already freaked about shit that hasn't even happened. I just...I don't like being vulnerable. I don't like it.