Georgeanne: (Looking in mirror) God. Look at me. I am totally pathetic. I just don’t want to be alone. Is that too much to ask? I mean, I still believe in marriage. I do. (Trisha laughs ruefully.) You don’t?
Trisha: To be perfectly honest with you, Georgeanne, I think any woman who chooses marriage in this day and age is out of her fucking mind.
G: Don’t you believe in love?
T: I certainly believe in consideration. And respect. And I definitely believe in sex, because it’s healthy and necessary. But love, what is that? I have had so many guys tell me they loved me, and not a single one of them has made any difference in my life.
G: Maybe you haven’t met the right one.
T: Oh, please. I’ve met him more times than I’d care to admit.
G: Well, maybe you just haven’t given him a chance.
T: I have given him too many chances.
G: Oh, come on. What’s the longest relationship you ever had, how many hours did that last?
T: Well, why drag it out? He’ll just start trying to run my life or else he’ll want me to be his mother.
G: Not all men are like that.
T: I have yet to meet one who isn’t. And I seriously doubt if I ever will.
G: How can you live like that?
T: Well, in the first place, it’s not a major tragedy, I’m just being honest.
G: Maybe you’re right. I’m probably just a hopeless romantic, doomed to go through my life being disappointed. (At window.) There he goes. Sniffing after little Miss Navy Blue Linen. God. Look at the way he walks…he sure can wear a pair of pants.
T: I mean, what’s the payoff? For having had that many women? Does it make him feel accomplished? Wiser? Or has it just become this drug he has to have?
G: Well, you’ve slept with just as many guys. What’s the payoff for you?
T: I have not slept with as many guys!
G: How many guys have you slept with?
T: I don’t know. A hundred.