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The 26 Year Old Bar Mitzvah Boy
by Gabriel Davis

No, no. I’m not here to propose marriage to you again. You said no and I can respect that decision.  And I'm still fine with us seeing other people like you suggested.  Not here to like, win you back.  It's totally cool.

But I've been thinking a lot about what you said that night.  That I'm not ready, that I need to grow up, that I'm not a man, and you want a man.  I've been thinking about it and I wanted you to know, I think I figured out how to fix that, uh, issue. 

My bar-mitzvah - my transformation from boy to man at the age of 13.  I don't think I got it right.  I remember stuttering when I read the Shama. And my chanting, especially during the Haftorah, as I recall my bubbie telling me, it was a little off-key.  So I'm thinking, maybe, due to that, I didn't enter manhood properly.  Or perhaps I missed the entrance altogether. Or perhaps God locked the entrance, because he couldn't understand the torah portion through my heavy lisp. 

Anyway, since then I've really grown up a lot.  I mean, according to you, not into a real man, but... I mean, I don't stutter, I don't lisp, granted I still sing off-key, but...and then it hit me.  This is genius.  Brace yourself. Seriously, hold onto the door frame or something:  What if I got bar mitzvahed again?  What if I got re-bar mitzvahed?  I could nail it this time.  Just knock that bar-mitzvah out of the synagogue.

So I’ve been studying Hebrew. Went to a Rabbi these last six weeks.  Been training intensely.  I mean, Karate Kid training.  Not just reading the Torah, but wax-on wax-off stuff like going to Saturday services, making Gefilte fish from scratch, learning to drive a hard bargain at the grocery.  I even went back to Hebrew school and stood up to the current bully there.  Granted the kid was like 4'11'', but my heart was still pounding like crazy.

And after all that, I can feel it, I'm ready. Ready  for man-land.  Ready to pay a mortgage and take out a 401k and sell insurance or cars or be a banker or something.  And like, father some kids.  I am charged. I am pumped. And tomorrow is my big day. Tomorrow, thirteen years after my first bar-mitzvah I am going to do it again – and it is going to rock!  

Tomorrow before your eyes and my families' - may Bubbie rest in piece - I will become a man.  I will step up on that bema and you will WITNESS my TRANSFORMATION!

So, uh, anyhoo...that’s why I’m here.  Just wanted to, uh, hand deliver this invitation to my bar-mitzvah.  We're going to do a nice little reception after, we'll have a DJ, should be dancing part, maybe they'll play our song, or not, and uh no need to bring a gift, I know its on short notice.  And, um...if you could just fill out this little card – chicken or fish. Thanks for not slamming the door like last time.  (door slams)  Oh.  Okay.  So I'll see you tomorrow?



This monologue is from the play Goodbye Charles, available digitally (click here) and in print (click here)



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