JAKE’S WOMEN
by Neil Simon
MAGGIE
Well, unfortunately, it wasn’t mine, either. For as long as I can remember, I was molded
and shaped in the form of somebody else’s concept of a woman, never mine. The church
taught it to me, parochial schools taught it to me, my mother, my father,–God, you
couldn’t get out of the Midwest without its stamp of approval. I was taught to be a good
girl, a wife and a mother but never a person. You could be a carbon copy but don’t mess
with being an original. That’s what you married eight years ago, Jake. A good girl. As
good and as obedient as my mother, never suspecting, of course, that it was three martinis
a day that kept her obedient...and then one day I woke up and said to myself, "I don’t
want to be anyone’s concept of me except me...not even Jake’s"...You are so important to
me, but you’re also so consumed with creating your own images and characters, planning
every detail in their life, molding them and shaping them into your creations, your
concepts. And I said, "Jesus, I just left all this in Michigan, what do I want it in New
York for?"...and the minute I tried to step out on my own, to try to be someone I created,
that I controlled, you made me pay so dearly for it. You made me feel like a
plagiarist....and so one day in Chicago, I let myself become a very bad little. Girl. The
next morning I looked in the mirror and sure didn’t like what I saw. But I saw the
possibility of becoming someone who would have to be accepted on I her terms and
certainly not someone who was considered a rewrite of someone else. And until you
begin to see me, Jake, my Maggie, I am getting out of this house, out of this life and out
of your word processor...I may be making the biggest mistake of my life but at least it’ll
be mine...Dear Lord, Creator of the Universe, forgive. And if not, not.