The TAG’s Guide to Love The Milo Boat Club in Yarmouth pulsed with music and dancing. Soldiers from Camp 60, British Tags from East Camp and local girls crowded the dance floor Lights shimmered against the polished wood, casting a golden glow over the evening’s revelry. At a dimly lit corner table, Jim sat hunched over his drink, absently swirling the liquid as his thoughts darkened. Anxiety clawed at him, twisting his stomach into knots. What if she found someone else while he was away? The idea festered, unbearable in its weight. Bill approached, sensing the turmoil radiating from his friend. Jim barely acknowledged him, staring at the glass in front of him. “I just want to be alone,” Jim muttered, hoping Bill would take the hint. Bill sighed, settling across from him. He’s spiraling again, Bill thought, scanning Jim’s tense posture. Jim exhaled sharply. “What if she goes out with someone else?” His voice was thick with frustration. Bill’s brow lifted. He’s really working himself up over this. “And?” Jim threw up his hands. “So, what am I supposed to do?” Bill studied him for a moment. He wants an answer, but I already know what he’s thinking. “What do you want to do?” Jim’s jaw tightened. “Kill him.” Bill let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. Typical. He’s caught in an illusion that love is a battlefield. “A little drastic, don’t you think?” “Is it?” Jim shot back, gripping his glass. Leaned back, Bill observing him carefully. He’s convinced this girl is his entire world. “She’s the first girl you’ve gone out with, but she’s not the only girl in the world.” Jim shook his head. “She is to me.” Bill smirked, nodding toward the dance floor. Maybe a distraction would help. “What about her? That one’s been eyeing you for weeks.” Jim frowned. “She has?” Bill sighed, frustration flickering across his face. “Yeah. You’ve been too busy sulking to notice.” Jim glanced toward the dancers but shook his head. “I don’t know her.” Bill scoffed. “Well, you didn’t know the other girl until you asked her to that dance.” Jim drummed his fingers against the table, considering Bill’s words. “That’s true… but I can’t go out with someone else now.” Bill narrowed his eyes. This again. “Why not?” Jim hesitated, voice quieter now. “Because… I told her there’d never be anyone else for me.” Bill groaned, rubbing his temple. The things young men say when they think they’ve found ‘the one’. Jim shrugged. “I’m eighteen.” “Exactly,” Bill said, exasperated. “Every guy says that.” Jim leaned forward. “They do?” Bill rolled his eyes. “It’s practically tradition.” Jim frowned. “So, we don’t really mean it?” Bill sighed, watching his friend wrestle with the realization. “I suppose we do … in the moment. But life moves forward, things change.” Jim’s gaze drifted toward the girl Bill had pointed out. She was dancing with soldier, laughing, the light catching in her hair. “You think she’d go out with me?” Bill shrugged. At least he’s considering it. “Why not ask her?” Jim hesitated. “And if she says no?” Bill chuckled, shaking his head. The fear of rejection. “Then ask someone else.” But Jim remained firm, shaking his head with quiet finality. “No. I’m sticking with the girl I have.” Bill sighed. He’ll learn, he thought, as he leaned back and shock his head in dismay.

This story was created from a script dialogue of a Wartime Heritage, stage production.