Warning: This is a monologue with some rough language.
Jim is centre stage, his eyes focus towards the audience.
JIM: Jack the hammer. He fucks a different girl every night, his easy-going persona and lad exterior make them weak at the knees. Eddie the poet. Spilling repeated garbage of his limited poetic knowledge, he gets lucky every other day. Then there’s me. Is there something wrong with me? I know my body isn’t like Jack’s, no ripped muscle and hairless skin, and my nervous jittering would dismantle any poetic beauty that Eddie could weave. If I’m unable to fuck with my looks or fuck with my tongue, what can I use? I got this date you see, fucking beauty and all. She got a steady job, big set of tits and damn right adorable smile. What the fuck I know, how did this mess of anxiety manage to pull this off? Well, I pulled in some favors with the lads, they managed to mold me into a right puller… online at least. Why the fuck are we meeting. I haven’t got anything worth her, I mean, I haven’t got laid in… I’m not shitting you… four years. A few bitching girlfriends and a broken ass ego will do that to you. So, I decided to not be me. You see I, Jim, don’t get anything. Jim hasn’t got any confidence, Jim isn’t a pussy fucking master, Jim can’t speak to girls without sweating a litre, let alone fuck one. So, she isn’t going to meet Jim. She is going to meet JIM, the new me, with Eddie and Jacks help Jim is now strong, confident, and girls will get drenched with one-half asked glance from me. I’m going to lie because I am scared, I am scared because original Jim is a boring, sad, and lonely man. So she is going to meet the new Jim. The Jim that has to get laid, the Jim that will finally gain me some sort of respect. I can’t meet Sal as me, so that’s why I’m going to lie.