i keep getting asked what exactly i am recovering from. so i thought, finally, i would type this up. the name is taken from a monologue i discovered a few years ago, which i was so impressed with that i ended up performing it for my psychology class at Evergreen. i've transcribed it pretty much verbatim as it is. enjoy.
The Recovering Male
by
Eric Bogosian
hi, uh, my name is Dave and i'm a recovering male. and, um, and i want to say first of all that i really agree with what Tim was just sharing about having shame for his penis. uh, just this morning i was taking a shower, and i happened to look down at my penis, and it just reminded me of what a bad person i am. and it's something i'm really in touch with right now. not my penis of course, although that has been an issue for me in the past. as many of you know, for a long time my mother used to whip me with a phone chord whenever i touched myself down there, and it's only been recently that i've stopped getting erections whenever the phone rang. but i don't want to talk about that today, i want to talk about where i'm at today. i'm in a pretty good place today, i just finished a course at the new school, Your Self, Your Shame, Your Orgasm... it was really good, yeah, because, you know, i used to just worry about my own orgasm, and now i worry about everyone's orgasm. and that's good for me. but i'm feeling kind of stuck, um, like on my way here tonight. a woman walks by me on the street, kinda tight sweater, large breasts, you know, really tight, you can kinda see the nipples pushing through the material, and just kind of jiggling as she's walking... i can't help myself, i have to check out her breasts. it's like i have to look, right, like i've never seen breasts before, you know? and then she walks by me, and i have to check out her butt, you know? like a Pavlovian dog, you know? BING! you know, look at the butt, like i've never seen a butt before. just, um... i feel like a human being trapped in a man's body. it's a nightmare, really. anyway, what i wanted to tell you about was, last week a friend of mine invited me to this recital, a woman he knew was giving at Carnegie Hall, she's a pianist. pianist. um, and i don't know anything about music, but i went along, you know, cause he had an extra ticket. and it was great, i mean, i guess she played Chopin and Beethoven i guess, it was cool, and liked it a lot. and there was this reception for her afterwards, so i went, i didn't really know anybody, i was just with my friend, and sorta sittin' in the corner, eatin' celery sticks, just kinda hangin' out by myself, and the next thing i know, my friend comes over with her, and, and she's shaking my hand, and i'm meeting her, and she's beautiful, she's got these big brown eyes, and long brown hair, smelled great, looking me right in the eyes, like, there's like this vibe, and she just did this amazing concert, right? i mean, she's amazing. and i'm shaking her hand, and all i can think is "i want to have sex with this woman." So inappropriate! i mean, where does that shit come from? I was so ashamed, i was ashamed of my shame. i ran out of the room, i locked myself in the bathroom, people are like pounding on the door, i'm in there, i'm crying. i'm trying to cry. fortunately i had my portable John Bradshaw with me. anyway, i shared this with my therapist, and she said i should write a letter to one of the women i fantasize about when i masturbate. so i did, and i read it to her over the phone, and she said i should bring it here today and share it with my group, so, uh, this is this letter that i wrote. i mean, i'm not supposed to send it or anything, i'm just supposed to read it... ahem.
(takes out letter)
Dear Michelle:
first of all, i don't know if your name is Michelle or not, but that is what i call you. maybe we will meet someday, and i will be able to learn your real name. maybe i will see you walking down the street, or in a subway, or maybe i will sit down in a movie theater and you'll be sitting next to me. i hope it will happen because then i'll be able to apologize to you for all the harm i've done. you're probably thinking, how could you have done me any harm, i don't even know you. and i know that that's true, probably hundreds of thousands of men fantasize about you every week. so in that way i know i'm not special. but i have to apologize. every Sunday i tear through the magazine supplements looking for you. where is she? where is Michelle? i look for you in the lingerie ads, the health club ads, the Club Med ads. i get frantic and then finally, every week i find you. Yes! in a string bikini, in a matching bra-and-pantie combo, maybe reclining in a steamy bathtub full of bubbles, almost revealing a nipple!
And then you are mine, all mine.
i hate to tell you what i do, but you belong to me, and i have you in every way i can think of. i consume you. i turn you inside out. you are my willing love slave and i am your love master. i relish your bum, i adore your boobs, i idolize your succulent, uh... vagina. i am in heaven. sometimes it lasts a long time, sometimes it's only a few seconds. but i have you, and let me tell you, you are Wonderful.
and then, as always, i debase you. at the very moment of sheer joy i can't hold back and my lifeforce splashes onto the very thing i love, your image, your picture. you are lost once more, covered in the product of my sticky love. i'm sorry Michelle, i really am. but i love you just the same. i'm just a man with a penis. and for that, i'm sorry.
and that's it, i don't want anybody sharing back to me, thank you.
The Recovering Male
by
Eric Bogosian
hi, uh, my name is Dave and i'm a recovering male. and, um, and i want to say first of all that i really agree with what Tim was just sharing about having shame for his penis. uh, just this morning i was taking a shower, and i happened to look down at my penis, and it just reminded me of what a bad person i am. and it's something i'm really in touch with right now. not my penis of course, although that has been an issue for me in the past. as many of you know, for a long time my mother used to whip me with a phone chord whenever i touched myself down there, and it's only been recently that i've stopped getting erections whenever the phone rang. but i don't want to talk about that today, i want to talk about where i'm at today. i'm in a pretty good place today, i just finished a course at the new school, Your Self, Your Shame, Your Orgasm... it was really good, yeah, because, you know, i used to just worry about my own orgasm, and now i worry about everyone's orgasm. and that's good for me. but i'm feeling kind of stuck, um, like on my way here tonight. a woman walks by me on the street, kinda tight sweater, large breasts, you know, really tight, you can kinda see the nipples pushing through the material, and just kind of jiggling as she's walking... i can't help myself, i have to check out her breasts. it's like i have to look, right, like i've never seen breasts before, you know? and then she walks by me, and i have to check out her butt, you know? like a Pavlovian dog, you know? BING! you know, look at the butt, like i've never seen a butt before. just, um... i feel like a human being trapped in a man's body. it's a nightmare, really. anyway, what i wanted to tell you about was, last week a friend of mine invited me to this recital, a woman he knew was giving at Carnegie Hall, she's a pianist. pianist. um, and i don't know anything about music, but i went along, you know, cause he had an extra ticket. and it was great, i mean, i guess she played Chopin and Beethoven i guess, it was cool, and liked it a lot. and there was this reception for her afterwards, so i went, i didn't really know anybody, i was just with my friend, and sorta sittin' in the corner, eatin' celery sticks, just kinda hangin' out by myself, and the next thing i know, my friend comes over with her, and, and she's shaking my hand, and i'm meeting her, and she's beautiful, she's got these big brown eyes, and long brown hair, smelled great, looking me right in the eyes, like, there's like this vibe, and she just did this amazing concert, right? i mean, she's amazing. and i'm shaking her hand, and all i can think is "i want to have sex with this woman." So inappropriate! i mean, where does that shit come from? I was so ashamed, i was ashamed of my shame. i ran out of the room, i locked myself in the bathroom, people are like pounding on the door, i'm in there, i'm crying. i'm trying to cry. fortunately i had my portable John Bradshaw with me. anyway, i shared this with my therapist, and she said i should write a letter to one of the women i fantasize about when i masturbate. so i did, and i read it to her over the phone, and she said i should bring it here today and share it with my group, so, uh, this is this letter that i wrote. i mean, i'm not supposed to send it or anything, i'm just supposed to read it... ahem.
(takes out letter)
Dear Michelle:
first of all, i don't know if your name is Michelle or not, but that is what i call you. maybe we will meet someday, and i will be able to learn your real name. maybe i will see you walking down the street, or in a subway, or maybe i will sit down in a movie theater and you'll be sitting next to me. i hope it will happen because then i'll be able to apologize to you for all the harm i've done. you're probably thinking, how could you have done me any harm, i don't even know you. and i know that that's true, probably hundreds of thousands of men fantasize about you every week. so in that way i know i'm not special. but i have to apologize. every Sunday i tear through the magazine supplements looking for you. where is she? where is Michelle? i look for you in the lingerie ads, the health club ads, the Club Med ads. i get frantic and then finally, every week i find you. Yes! in a string bikini, in a matching bra-and-pantie combo, maybe reclining in a steamy bathtub full of bubbles, almost revealing a nipple!
And then you are mine, all mine.
i hate to tell you what i do, but you belong to me, and i have you in every way i can think of. i consume you. i turn you inside out. you are my willing love slave and i am your love master. i relish your bum, i adore your boobs, i idolize your succulent, uh... vagina. i am in heaven. sometimes it lasts a long time, sometimes it's only a few seconds. but i have you, and let me tell you, you are Wonderful.
and then, as always, i debase you. at the very moment of sheer joy i can't hold back and my lifeforce splashes onto the very thing i love, your image, your picture. you are lost once more, covered in the product of my sticky love. i'm sorry Michelle, i really am. but i love you just the same. i'm just a man with a penis. and for that, i'm sorry.
and that's it, i don't want anybody sharing back to me, thank you.