I've always needed a shoulder to cry on; ever since I was a little boy. No one really cared when I did cry, which made it even more of a challenge to find someone who would be there when I cried. I needed someone I could trust; someone who I could spill my pathetic guts to. I've sort of given up looking for a long while after my first relationship with a woman ended. She detested me, which I've now come to learn that it was alright. I felt I didn't know her enough to talk to her about my problems…and therein lies another problem. I have problems, which is a problem. A busy producer can't have problems….
It all loops around to the problem that's yet to be solved.
What the hell am I doing with my life? I've sat on my couch and actually planned with a mousy accountant…planned to scam hundreds—maybe thousands—of people into giving us money for a play that was definitely not going to work.
It worked.
Much to my dismay, I even sat in a jail, planning—with myself—ways to pulverize said mousy accountant into next Tuesday. Of course, there was a good reason. Unlike the nonexistent reason for my betrayal…Leo Bloom—the name even sounds mousy—had taken the two million dollars that I had painfully earned and ran with his gorgeous girlfriend to Rio. Without me. That was our plan, the bastard. Our plan was to go to Rio with the two million dollars I'd so painfully earned.
She was absolutely beautiful. Her name was Ulla…something. Ulla…something Swedish. She was Swedish…and she was very pretty. Very tall, blonde hair…and Leo ran with her to Rio without me.
I was so hurt when I got that postcard; the one from Leo basically saying that he's having a frickin' blast without me. At first, I thought, who cares? I don't need that little rat anyway. I'm good right here in—
Sing-Sing.
Alright, so I'd pretended one too many times that I was in El Salvador—completely random, but that's not the point. The point is that he betrayed me. He'd left me…after I thought we were friends. He'd left me to fend for myself. Seeing that postcard, and thinking of him and that Swedish shell in a beautiful country on an equally beautiful beach, probably making equally beautiful love….
It killed me. It absolutely tore me to shreds. I'd never felt so alone in my life, sitting in that jail cell and re-reading the blasted postcard. The jealously grabbed my heart, squeezed it, ripped it out, and threw it on the ground in a sinister conceit. My life was ruined that day.
When Leo betrayed me, I was destroyed. He'd been my best friend through everything that happened before he left…he'd been there to help me plan the scam, regardless of the fact that he didn't want to participate in it in the first place. He'd been the shoulder I cried on—so to speak; I'd never cried—and was the person I could tell all my problems to. Actually, that never had to come about, given I didn't think he'd care about my problems. Producers are too busy to have problems. But he'd been through it all with me. I really thought he was going to be there for me when it came to this jail thing.
Apparently, I was wrong.
It never even occurred to me that he'd take the money and run. Nor did it occur to me that it'd do so much damage to me…but now he's in Rio with Ulla, having a gay ol' time. It hurts so bad….
It could've been me. It really could've been me. I could've been the one making beautiful love on the beach…I could've been the one with the beautiful country view…I could've been there….
I could've been there….
I could've been there with him.