Getting it Right - A Monologue

There was a time when my whole life spun around these three guys named Rob.

I moved out on Rob, my roommate, to live with my lover, Rob. Then, in a matter of months, we agreed I should get my own place, and after that, I saw so much more of Rob, my best friend, that I fell in love with him.

He and his male lover both seemed to like me a lot.

My ex-lover fell back in love with me. He had it all planned how we should get married, but he’s twenty years older than me. I mean, who wants to be a widow!?

Oh, Rob is very nice, and we could be great friends, but it’s not fair to lead him on. The guy deserves a woman in his life and with me anywhere in the picture, his feelings for everyone else get thrown off balance.

For my part, when I’m not around my best friend, Rob, I can dismiss his attractions and say gays are not developed enough for women. Then, whenever I see him, I try to fathom what will bring him to his senses. And mine.

Rob, the original roomie found a new place with someone else when I joined my lover. I loaned him a vibrant print that didn’t fit with Rob-the-Lover’s art. Too modern.

Rob took the print as a loan knowing it had been a gift to me. (I got it from a shrink I used to see. He had framed a matching one for his office. Sweet. But his wife saw it and kept it for their home.)

I don’t see the shrink anymore. Still, the print had been a gift and I expected to get it back. But by the time I found my own place, Rob had moved on again. The print was gone—No forwarding address.

Maybe it’s just as well. The thing kinda made me dizzy.

The other Robs, both, gave me their own original paintings. Their colors are fine, but the dimensions don’t fit my new place.

When I found a pile of stretchers and unpainted frames in Soho, I lugged them all uptown thinking I’d pass them along to one of the Robs, but neither Rob showed interest, so I gave the frames to a thrift shop.

Now don’t ask me why, but I kept back two for myself, and I don’t paint!

But I nailed them together: an empty shape within an empty shape. It fits perfectly to frame the wall above my fireplace.

I call it conceptual art.

Getting it Right - A Monologue


New York, United States

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Did you ever get twisted out of shape trying to make a relationship work? Sometimes you have to accept that there’s nothing there.

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