How To
The Non-Expert: The Difference Between Men and Women
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week ROSECRANS BALDWIN addresses a reader’s question about the difference between her and her boyfriend’s libidos with a one-act play about dinner.
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Question: I need some help with my love life. I’m happy having sex two or three times a week, but my boyfriend wants it every night. How can we resolve this problem? —Jenni
Answer: A short play about dinner.
SCENE: A SMALL, DOMESTIC KITCHEN SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA. A YOUNG MAN NAMED STAN SITS AT A DINING TABLE IN THE DARK, WEARING ONLY BOXER BRIEFS. HE HOLDS A FROZEN DINNER IN HIS HANDS; THE BOX FEATURES A LURID PICTURE OF A NAKED CHICKEN; HIS HANDS ARE SWEATING. THE DOOR OPENS. HIS WIFE SARAH APPEARS.
Sarah: Stan, are you in here?
Stan: Oh yeah…
Sarah: Why are you sitting in the dark?
Stan: You mean what am I wearing in the dark?
SARAH FLIPS ON THE LIGHT. STAN GETS UP AND RUSHES TOWARDS HER, DROPPING THE LURID CHICKEN.
Sarah: Ew, quit it!
Stan: Come on, you know you’re hungry. Let’s dine.
Sarah: Get your hands off of me! Jesus, is this why you had the lights off?
Stan: I thought it put you in the mood!
Sarah: [pushes him away, notices the chicken dinner] Stan…is that a Lean Cuisine on the floor?
Stan: No.
Sarah: [picks up the chicken dinner] I can’t believe it.
Stan: It gets me worked up, all right?
Sarah: But you said you’d hidden them!
Stan: Well, what did you expect?
Sarah: I told you: I don’t care if you keep them around the house, as long as I don’t see them. [Holds up the box, pointing at a breast] This makes you hungry? And Lean Cuisine of all things…you think that breast is all-natural? My father used to keep Stouffers around the house, so I can understand a good hearty meatloaf. But Lean Cuisine?
Stan: [quietly] Stouffers doesn’t do it for me anymore…Come on babe, I wanna chow.
Sarah: Don’t use that word.
Stan: Sorry…I meant, let’s make dinner.
Sarah: I’m not in the mood.
Stan: But we never have dinner anymore!
Sarah: We’re definitely not going to now. I wasn’t hungry anyway.
Stan: How can you not want dinner?
Sarah: Stan, we had dinner last night. You had dinner twice last weekend!
Stan: So what? In some cultures people eat dinner every night!
Sarah: Oh, so now we have to be like everyone else?
Stan: I didn’t say that.
Sarah: I told you when we got married, I like dinner. Some nights there’s nothing I want more than a nice, candlelit dinner, with you, you moron. It’s just that I just don’t need dinner—
Stan: But I do! I love dinner. I love dinner regularly. When I come home I want to enter my house, I want to see my wife, and then I want to have dinner with her. It’s what every man wants! What’s so wrong with that?
Sarah: There’s nothing wrong with that.
Stan: Exactly.
Sarah: There’s something wrong with that chicken though…
Stan: Forget the chicken. Baby, Mr. Stomach is growling.
Sarah: [sighs loudly] So go have dinner with your friends.
Stan: Oh, so now you’re Mrs. Funny?
Sarah: Better than having a “Mr. Stomach.”
Stan: You know Bob Wiley? He and his wife have dinner twice a day.
Sarah: So that would be…lunch?
Stan: Soon it’ll be Miss Funny if you keep starving me like this.
Sarah: Oh, so now you’re starving. Now there’s a famine around the house.
Stan: Last night wasn’t exactly a big meal.
Sarah: Well, you ate pretty quickly, didn’t you? And frankly I could have used a little dessert.
Stan: [laughs, pulls her toward him] Girls are all the same. Look, let’s not fight.
Sarah: Honey, you know I like dinner. I’m just exhausted, and I’ve still got that cold. Can’t we have dinner on Saturday?
Stan: Baby, of course. We’ll take our time. Maybe we can mix it up a bit. I’ve got this fantasy going, where you’re working in a restaurant—
Sarah: [pushes him away, leaves the room] Forget it, sicko, you can make dinner for yourself—and you’re doing the dishes!
SARAH TURNS OFF THE LIGHTS AND SLAMS THE DOOR BEHIND HER. STAN PICKS UP THE LEAN CUISINE AND STARES LONGINGLY AT THE CHICKEN.
Stan: [whispers woefully] No one cooked like mom…
Question: I need some help with my love life. I’m happy having sex two or three times a week, but my boyfriend wants it every night. How can we resolve this problem? —Jenni
Answer: A short play about dinner.
SCENE: A SMALL, DOMESTIC KITCHEN SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA. A YOUNG MAN NAMED STAN SITS AT A DINING TABLE IN THE DARK, WEARING ONLY BOXER BRIEFS. HE HOLDS A FROZEN DINNER IN HIS HANDS; THE BOX FEATURES A LURID PICTURE OF A NAKED CHICKEN; HIS HANDS ARE SWEATING. THE DOOR OPENS. HIS WIFE SARAH APPEARS.
Sarah: Stan, are you in here?
Stan: Oh yeah…
Sarah: Why are you sitting in the dark?
Stan: You mean what am I wearing in the dark?
SARAH FLIPS ON THE LIGHT. STAN GETS UP AND RUSHES TOWARDS HER, DROPPING THE LURID CHICKEN.
Sarah: Ew, quit it!
Stan: Come on, you know you’re hungry. Let’s dine.
Sarah: Get your hands off of me! Jesus, is this why you had the lights off?
Stan: I thought it put you in the mood!
Sarah: [pushes him away, notices the chicken dinner] Stan…is that a Lean Cuisine on the floor?
Stan: No.
Sarah: [picks up the chicken dinner] I can’t believe it.
Stan: It gets me worked up, all right?
Sarah: But you said you’d hidden them!
Stan: Well, what did you expect?
Sarah: I told you: I don’t care if you keep them around the house, as long as I don’t see them. [Holds up the box, pointing at a breast] This makes you hungry? And Lean Cuisine of all things…you think that breast is all-natural? My father used to keep Stouffers around the house, so I can understand a good hearty meatloaf. But Lean Cuisine?
Stan: [quietly] Stouffers doesn’t do it for me anymore…Come on babe, I wanna chow.
Sarah: Don’t use that word.
Stan: Sorry…I meant, let’s make dinner.
Sarah: I’m not in the mood.
Stan: But we never have dinner anymore!
Sarah: We’re definitely not going to now. I wasn’t hungry anyway.
Stan: How can you not want dinner?
Sarah: Stan, we had dinner last night. You had dinner twice last weekend!
Stan: So what? In some cultures people eat dinner every night!
Sarah: Oh, so now we have to be like everyone else?
Stan: I didn’t say that.
Sarah: I told you when we got married, I like dinner. Some nights there’s nothing I want more than a nice, candlelit dinner, with you, you moron. It’s just that I just don’t need dinner—
Stan: But I do! I love dinner. I love dinner regularly. When I come home I want to enter my house, I want to see my wife, and then I want to have dinner with her. It’s what every man wants! What’s so wrong with that?
Sarah: There’s nothing wrong with that.
Stan: Exactly.
Sarah: There’s something wrong with that chicken though…
Stan: Forget the chicken. Baby, Mr. Stomach is growling.
Sarah: [sighs loudly] So go have dinner with your friends.
Stan: Oh, so now you’re Mrs. Funny?
Sarah: Better than having a “Mr. Stomach.”
Stan: You know Bob Wiley? He and his wife have dinner twice a day.
Sarah: So that would be…lunch?
Stan: Soon it’ll be Miss Funny if you keep starving me like this.
Sarah: Oh, so now you’re starving. Now there’s a famine around the house.
Stan: Last night wasn’t exactly a big meal.
Sarah: Well, you ate pretty quickly, didn’t you? And frankly I could have used a little dessert.
Stan: [laughs, pulls her toward him] Girls are all the same. Look, let’s not fight.
Sarah: Honey, you know I like dinner. I’m just exhausted, and I’ve still got that cold. Can’t we have dinner on Saturday?
Stan: Baby, of course. We’ll take our time. Maybe we can mix it up a bit. I’ve got this fantasy going, where you’re working in a restaurant—
Sarah: [pushes him away, leaves the room] Forget it, sicko, you can make dinner for yourself—and you’re doing the dishes!
SARAH TURNS OFF THE LIGHTS AND SLAMS THE DOOR BEHIND HER. STAN PICKS UP THE LEAN CUISINE AND STARES LONGINGLY AT THE CHICKEN.
Stan: [whispers woefully] No one cooked like mom…
—Published March 18, 2005
