SERGE: You’ve got to go.
OTTO: She thinks I’m going to kill myself or something. She thinks I’m taking this job thing too hard. My analyst says I was overly involved in my work. My analyst says I’ve been looking for the wrong kind of fulfillment. My analyst makes me sick. Do you want a pretzel?
SERGE: No.
OTTO: Do you think you could ever love me again?
SERGE: No.
OTTO: Don’t toy with me. Don’t tease me along.
SERGE: I said no.
OTTO: Just tell me the truth. Just lay it on the line. I’m a grownup. I can take it. Be honest. You shilly-shally, that’s your problem.
SERGE: I’m in love with someone else.
OTTO: I remember the first time I saw you. In Barneys. You were spectacular looking, to me at any rate. Not that you’re not good-looking, I don’t mean that. But some people don’t think you’re as good-looking as me. I mean as I do. Everyone things you’re better looking than I am. Even my mother thinks you’re better looking than me. Did you know she shows your picture to people? People ask her if she has a son and she shows them your picture. You’ve made her very proud.
SERGE: Is there no way to stop you?
OTTO: I certainly hope not. Obviously you’re good-looking. You’re a model. You have to be good-looking to be a model. But then again, you only do runway. You’re not good-looking enough for print, are you? Is it chilly in here now? You could love me again, if I were thin.
SERGE: I doubt that.
OTTO: Oh, you may not think so, but I know it. I’m sure of it. I’m on a diet. I’ve lost eighty-five pounds. Can you tell? Do I look thinner?
SERGE: No.
OTTO: Well, actually, I gained four pounds. But I don’t think four pounds really shows up. I know in the past, when I’ve lost four pounds, it didn’t show. When was that? As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, I’m on a new diet. I have a Slim-Fast shake with every meal. Have you tried Slim-Fast?
SERGE: Of course not.
OTTO: You’re afraid to try new things, that’s your problem. I like you’re hair. Are you combing it differently, or at all? Slim-Fast is delicious! It goes fabulously with pretzels! (He pulls a can of Slim-Fast out of his bag) I’m not thirsty yet. Maybe later.—You’d love me again, if I was thinner. I told my analyst that I was going to come and see you, and you know what she did? She laughed! She burst into gales of laughter! She told me she was crying. She cries all the time. I don’t think she’s happy. I think she’s got serious problems. Would you love me again if I weighed a hundred pounds? Would you love me if I weighed fifty pounds? Would you love me if I looked like one of those living corpses in the photographs from the liberation of Auschwitz?
SERGE: I can’t say I’d love you. I might prefer you.
OTTO: So tell me, what’ve you been doing with yourself lately? I’m fascinated.
SERGE: I did the Gaultier show and Anna Sui menswear.
OTTO: Runway modeling must be soooo stimulating. Such a challenge.
SERGE: It’s fine. It’s easy.
OTTO: Tell me, do you ever worry that you’ll fall off the ramp? D’you ever worry that you’ll swagger, blindly, off the runway and into the lap of the editor from GQ?
SERGE: No!
OTTO: D’you ever worry that you’ll put the clothes on upside down? D’you ever traipse down the catwalk with your arms in the leg holes and the pants wrapped around your back, like a bolero jacket?
SERGE: I like what I do! The money is good. The people are nice.
OTTO: I bet they are. Why shouldn’t they be?—It is definitely freezing in here now. (He adjusts the thermostat) What have they got to be bitter about? All those stunning young boys with perfect chests and perfect hair. They all have squares on their stomachs and perfect little geometric rear ends. I’m a total failure! I’m washed up at thirty-eight!
SERGE: You’re thirty-three!!
OTTO: Must you be correct all the time? What is this neurotic compulsion you have to be correct? You have a fetish, that’s your problem.
SERGE: I don’t want to hurt your feelings—
OTTO (Pulling a pack of Yodels from his bag) Do you like Yodels? Probably not. I’ve always loved Yodels. When I was a kid I used to unroll them and eat them like a piece of pizza. It made them seem like more. My analyst says my parents never paid enough attention to me, so I have a neurotic fear of there never being enough of anything. I don’t know what she’s talking about most of the time. (He shoves a whole Yodel into his mouth)
SERGE: How often are you seeing her?
(Otto chews, savoring his food for a moment. Then, cheerfully:)
OTTO: Twice a day. Remember how happy we were?
SERGE: I don’t remember that we were particularly happy.
OTTO: You reinvent history, that’s your problem. We were in an advanced state of bliss! My living here with you was the happiest two years of my life.
SERGE: Two years?!
OTTO: Did I say two years? I meant four years. It just flew by in half the time.
SERGE: You never lived here!
OTTO: Time flies when you’re in love.
SERGE: We dated for a couple of weeks!
OTTO: You must’ve had it awful bad.
SERGE: GET OUT!!
OTTO (Sprawling on the bed): I loved this bed! I adored it! It was ecstasy
