SPEED DATING FOR DESPERATE HUMANS
(INSTRUCTIONS FOR A TOTAL DISASTER)
A Meta-Theatrical Comedy in One Act
By Gavarre
Benjamin
©
Benjamín Gavarre Silva
CHARACTERS
- JULIAN: The director and
dating coach. Passionate, intense, constantly interrupting.
- ELEANOR: The
self-proclaimed perfect corporate executive. Desperate for a second chance
in love. Armed with giant
binoculars.
- MATTHEW: The forced
modern gentleman. Chronically distracted, trapped in his own thoughts of
gears and engines. Die-hard
Formula 1 and motocross fanatic.
- BEATRICE: The
free-spirited, defiant woman. Mature, unapologetic, mysterious about how
she spends her disposable income.
- ARTHUR: A lost cause. An
anachronistic Don Juan. He is 30 but acts 65. Visibly nervous around
Julian's charm.
- LOUIE: The utility
actor and production assistant. Plays all the extras, a total slave to the
director's whims. Tender-hearted
and easily smitten.
CHORUS
STRUCTURE
When
the dates crash or the tension rises, the actors in the shadows split into two
stylized, choreographic groups:
- WOMEN'S CHORUS
(The Reality Check): Exposing the glaring red flags.
- MEN'S CHORUS (Not
a Big Deal, Bro): Trying to defend the indefensible or
changing the subject.
SCENE
1: THE GREEN LIGHT
(The
stage is in semi-darkness. Four individual small tables with two chairs each
are scattered across the space. Each table has an unlit overhead spotlight.
JULIAN stands downstage center with a whistle around his neck and a notebook).
JULIAN: Stop everything!
Welcome to the rehearsal. Forget about romance: this is Russian roulette. Love
is a high-speed farce where destiny always plays a cruel trick on us, a
skeleton in the closet, an illusion that refuses to die even after a brick to
the face... No! I already told you no, Vladimir, what part of 'no' don't you
understand! You naive fool! (Clears his throat) Ahem, sorry for the
personal projection... Cast, embrace the neurosis, and if the impulse takes
over, break character and we’ll debate it. Speed Dating for Desperate Humans!
Whistle ready, lights ready, and Louie, get it together! Let the madness—ahem—let
the disaster begin!
(He blows the whistle loudly).
SCENE
2: DATE 1 – THE HORSEPOWER MISUNDERSTANDING
(ELEANOR
and MATTHEW sit at Table 1. Eleanor tries to look like the ultimate corporate
power-woman. Matthew smiles with an artificial, practiced charm, his eyes
slightly glazed over).
MATTHEW: (With a deep
voice, staring intently into her eyes) I feel a connection. A wild energy.
As if fate had thrown us onto the same pasture.
ELEANOR: (Charmed) Oh, Matthew! How poetic. I feel exactly what
you're saying.
MATTHEW: I just can't stop thinking about them. The horses.
ELEANOR: Horses? How exquisite! I can picture you riding free, the wind
in your face, a stallion dominating nature...
MATTHEW: I’m talking about horsepower. The hybrid V6 engine… Formula
One! (His eyes roll back in ecstasy) Man... McLaren drives me insane.
ELEANOR: (Blinking, completely derailed) McLaren? Are you kidding
me? You too with the damn Formula One? It’s our first date, for God's sake!
MATTHEW: It's just that if they don't configure the downforce right, the
horsepower means nothing! (Out of nowhere, he starts humming a pop song
rhythmically) "And I... will always love yooouuu!"... Sorry, got
that song stuck in my head this morning. By the way, did you see how reckless
Lando was on the last circuit? But Lewis Hamilton, my king, as always… The
GOAT!
ELEANOR: (With a deadpan expression) McLaren? Lando, Lewis… let
me guess, you probably love Max Verstappen too.
MATTHEW: You like him too?! Look at that, we actually have a point of
connection.
ELEANOR: (Talking to herself, ignoring Matthew, past the point of no
return) Just like my last husband... Why does the factory keep making men
like this? Why?!
(Eleanor,
furious, aggressively opens her purse, pulls out a pair of massive binoculars,
shoves them against her face, completely ignores Matthew, and turns around to
spy on Table 2).
SCENE
3: THE ESPIONAGE AND THE DIRECTOR'S ASSETS
(At
Table 2 sit ARTHUR and BEATRICE. Arthur is incredibly stiff, dressed like an
elderly gentleman from the Upper East Side. Beatrice yawns).
ARTHUR: Courtship isn't what
it used to be, Miss Beatrice. I... am a firm believer in traditional values and
good etiquette.
BEATRICE: (Perfectly polite) You are a good man, Arthur. It's
obvious you are very decent and received a very solid, old-school upbringing.
(Julian
approaches Table 2 from behind to correct Arthur’s posture. He bends over
excessively, giving his back to the audience).
ELEANOR: (Looking through
the binoculars, bursts out laughing) No way! You have to see this! Viral
TikTok material, right here!
ARTHUR: (Trying to speak formally, but his eyes are locked onto
Julian’s tight pants. He stammers) Because good bottoms—I mean, good...
good etiquettes... My word, what fantastic etiquettes… Yes, traditional values
imply observing... such a spectacular landscape... Like a professional athlete
at least… I can't take it!
ELEANOR: (Yelling from her table) For God's sake, Arthur! Stop
staring at the director's ass! Ha, ha!
ARTHUR: (Sweating cold, breaking character) Eleanor, come on! I
was just trying to stay focused on my scene! You're being a total neighborhood
gossip! And besides, it's Julian's fault, he put it right in my face! Like
three inches away!
BEATRICE: (Laughing) Oh, Arthur, I agree with you, credit where
credit is due, the director is packing.
ARTHUR: Let's be serious now… Especially you... since you are a
respectable lady.
SCENE
4: JULIAN’S META-THEATRICAL INTERRUPTION
(Julian
snaps upright and delivers a deafening clap).
JULIAN: Serious, please!
That’s enough! CUT! (The actors relax) Eleanor, good job with the
binoculars, good. But you need to look more shocked, more insulted, like the
director is your boyfriend and another man is trying to steal him. Louie! Get
in here, Louie!
(LOUIE
shuffles onto the stage, wearing an oversized, faded artsy t-shirt).
LOUIE: What do you need me
for now...
JULIAN: Take Eleanor’s binoculars. Act like you just caught Arthur
checking out my rear end. I’d do it myself, but I can't be judge and jury!
LOUIE: (Takes the binoculars half-heartedly, looks at Arthur with
zero emotion) Oh, look at that. Arthur is staring at the director's
buns.... Madness. Wow… Like that? Or with more shock?
JULIAN: Horrible! As an actor, you are a disaster! Step aside, I’ll do
it myself! (Snatches the binoculars, drops to his knees in melodramatic
despair) What is happening to this world! There is no morality left! I know
these pants fit me phenomenally well! But do you have to be so obvious?… A
little respect for my enviable physique, please! (Everyone applauds, some
enthusiastically, others ironically; Arthur even cheers) Enough, come on,
let's move on. Rotation!
(The whistle blows, signaling the transition).
SCENE
5: DATE 2 – THE POET AND THE MECHANIC
(The
whistle blows. Arthur moves to Table 3 with Eleanor. Matthew moves to Table 2
with Beatrice. We focus on
Table 3 first).
ARTHUR: (Trying to reclaim
his dignity) Eleanor, to forget our previous mishaps... let me speak to you
from the soul. I know some sublime classic poetry: "Shall I compare thee
to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate..."
ELEANOR: (Looking at him with pure disdain) Did you copy that
from a cheap tourist postcard from Union Square?
ARTHUR: No! It's the pinnacle of William Shakespeare!
ELEANOR: Sonnet 18, honey. Using poetry written by a dead guy on a first
date isn't romantic, it’s creepy. You are the most stagnant, boring, and
bizarre thirty-year-old I’ve encountered all week. What are you, a closeted
Victorian poet? Because honestly, that's so cliché by now, my friend.
ARTHUR: (Breaking character) Don't use that tone with me,
Eleanor. I prefer 'queer poet', thank you very much… Mr. Director!
ELEANOR: Alright, sorry, that was my character talking, not me, you know
we're cool... (Incisive) Queer? How modern… haha.
ARTHUR: Mr. Director!
(The
spotlight on Table 3 dims halfway and fully illuminates Table 2: Matthew and
Beatrice).
MATTHEW: (Staring intently
at Beatrice’s hands, completely mesmerized) Your hands are fascinating,
Beatrice. They are small, strong... sensual. They have the firmness of someone
who knows how to adjust a suspension system without a second thought.
BEATRICE: (Smiling slyly, using a hand fan) Oh, really, Matthew?
How observant. Not many guys notice that I spend my weekends covered in mud at
a motocross track, or staying up all night watching the qualifying rounds for
the Monaco Grand Prix.
MATTHEW: (Fascinated, leaning closer, dropping his artificial charm
entirely) I don't believe it! I am in pure ecstasy... Finally, a woman who
understands revolutions per minute! I only pretend to be this modern gentleman
because Julian forces me to, but... I am completely crazy for your world of
combustion, tires pushed to the absolute edge, and the scent of melting
asphalt. Beatrice, you are pure adrenaline at two hundred miles an hour in a
world driving with the emergency brake on!
BEATRICE: (Seductive, leaning toward him suddenly, snapping her fan
shut) Then you better buckle your seatbelt, Matthew... because I don't know
how to use the brakes.
JULIAN: (Interrupting from the shadows, thrilled) Yes! Pure fire!
Now that is sexual tension! Hold onto
that energy for the chorus!
SCENE
5B: THE DIRECTOR’S THERAPEUTIC MELTDOWN
(Suddenly,
JULIAN’S phone goes off, blasting a ridiculously dramatic opera ringtone.
Julian interrupts the scene, furious).
JULIAN: CUT! CUT! Who on
earth forgot to put their phone on silent? (Revises his own pocket, freezes)
Oh, it's mine. One second, it's my therapist... or my ex, which at this point
is the exact same hell. (Answers, pacing like a caged lion) Hello? I
told you not to call me, Vladimir! I am in the middle of a creative climax! Did
I pack my things from your Brooklyn apartment? Every single sock! And do you
know what this play reflects? Your pathological narcissism! You are the Russian
roulette of my life, Vladimir, a skeleton that refuses to leave my closet! (Hangs
up dramatically, throws his hands in the air, breathing heavily. The actors
stare at him, frozen. He clears his throat, instantly snapping back to
composure) Ahem... sorry for the neighborhood catharsis. Theater is
therapy. Where were we? Ah, yes! Matthew, Beatrice! I love that tension of
melting asphalt and sin! Eleanor, stop spying on Arthur and get in there! Smells like drama! Drop the bomb!
SCENE
6: THE CHORUS AND THE SEMI-CHORUS SHOWDOWN
(Break.
The overhead lights on the tables snap off. A cold, sharp light turns on. The
actors quickly group up on the sides of the stage, striking exaggerated,
dramatic poses).
WOMEN'S
CHORUS (ELEANOR, BEATRICE): (Taking a step forward, pointing at the audience) Red alert! Red
flag! Talk is cheap, actions speak louder! Better off alone than in bad
company!
MEN'S
CHORUS (MATTHEW, LOUIE, ARTHUR): (Taking a step forward) Red alert!
Red flag! Too much demand for a broken supply! Better off alone than in bad
company!
WOMEN'S
CHORUS (ELEANOR, BEATRICE): Air out your dirty laundry, drag the skeletons out of the closet.
MEN'S
CHORUS (MATTHEW, LOUIE, ARTHUR): Expose your miseries, we can smell the sin
from a mile away!
ELEANOR: (Breaking the
formation aggressively, shoving Beatrice out of the group) Oh, let Beatrice
speak! She loves playing the high-society lady, but Matthew just exposed her
taste for melting asphalt and underground drag racing! I already know your
little secrets!
BEATRICE: (Blindsided by the
betrayal, defending herself) At least I have a life, Eleanor! I don't use
giant binoculars to be a professional stalker; you literally know the secrets
of every tenant in the building. Get a boyfriend, get a dog, and let the rest
of us live!
ELEANOR: (Offended) Stalker?
Me? I only repeat what the walls are screaming! Last Saturday you were spotted
holding hands with the pizza delivery guy… and word on the street is you handed
him a massive stack of cash!
(Everyone
on stage gasps exaggeratedly, closing in like gossiping neighbors).
MATTHEW: (Stepping forward
immediately, defending Beatrice with explosive energy) Hold on a second! If
it was the kid with the red motorcycle, that engine has a modified carburetor
that doubles the fuel efficiency! Beatrice was just funding local engineering!
And polyamory is aerodynamic, Eleanor, don't be so old-fashioned!
SCENE
7: THE GREAT EXPOSURE OF SKELETONS
JULIAN: (Leaping from his
chair, ecstatic) Yes! Mechanical defense and neighborhood venom are pure
gold! Strip away your private vices! Let's hear it, Beatrice!
BEATRICE: (Unapologetic,
crossing her legs proudly) Oh, please, are you all going to play the
puritan card now? This is New York City, not some small-town church group. Yes,
I gave him a stack of cash. And Marco, "the delivery guy," delivered
his body and soul in a fabulous night of pure entertainment. That's why I paid
him extremely well. And Matthew is more than invited to the next session to
inspect the suspension!
MATTHEW: (Proudly,
adjusting his collar) Mechanical challenge accepted!
ELEANOR: (Stepping forward,
exasperated, her voice cracking) Oh, come on, Betty! How much is your
alimony? At your age, you must have an entire trust fund just to afford
motorized collagen! (Her vulnerability slips through) It’s just not
fair! You slave away twelve hours a day in a corporate midtown office, buy
expensive lingerie, read self-help books, and the only guys I get are broke men
who want me to pay for their therapy or talk to me about Shakespeare! You get a
pizza pilot and I just collect boring ex-husbands!
BEATRICE: (Softening a bit,
amused) Well, Eleanor... the secret is to let go of the emergency brake.
But you prefer staring through binoculars.
ELEANOR: (Snapping back,
trying to regain her executive posture) You little hypocrite! The only
thing respectable about you is your designer makeup!
SCENE
8: ARTHUR’S LIBERATION
ARTHUR: (Slams his hand on
the table and stands up, his eyes shining) Enough! You know what...
Beatrice and Matthew are right! To hell with appearances, to hell with William
Shakespeare, and to hell with the charade!
JULIAN: (Taking notes
frantically) Yes! Go for the breakthrough! The awakening of the character!
ARTHUR: It's true: I try to
play the classic ladies' man just to fit into this society, but the truth is...
I like guys too! They drive me crazy! And you, Julian, with those tight
director pants, you've had me breathless since the first table read!
(Dramatic
silence on stage. Julian freezes with his pen mid-air).
JULIAN: Sublime! What a plot
twist! (Adjusts his shirt, visibly flattered) I mean, my body is a work
of art, I know, but I am the director; I cannot get involved, it wouldn't be
professional. We need an emergency understudy! Louie! Step in as the wildcard
of love!
LOUIE: Again? No, wait a
minute, Julian! I'm the production assistant, not Arthur’s romantic backup.
JULIAN: It's for the love of
art, Louie! And you love theater, I know you do! Sit down right there! (Forces
Louie into a chair) Action!
ARTHUR: (Looks at Louie,
smiles warmly, relaxed) Hey... I like your ripped t-shirt. It's very...
artsy. Very Bushwick.
LOUIE: (Timorous)
Really? I actually found it in the theater's wardrobe trash bin... but thanks.
Hey, do you like low-budget horror movies?
ARTHUR: I love them! They are
my ultimate guilty pleasure! You know, you have a beautiful smile.
LOUIE: (Less shy)
Truly? Nobody has ever told me that before…
(Louie
and Arthur lock eyes, completely smitten).
(The
Chorus and Semi-Chorus unite in the background, clapping rhythmically,
celebrating the unexpected love).
WOMEN'S
CHORUS (Eleanor, Beatrice): They're in love, they're dating… They're in love.
MEN'S
CHORUS (Matthew): They're dating, they're dating…
ALL: They're holding
hands, they're kissing, they're making out… In public…
SCENES
9 & 10: THE CLIMAX OF THE ABSURD (SLAPSTICK EFFECT)
JULIAN: Excellent! But we
must not stop! Lightning round of urban desperation! Absolute rotation! Move
the tables!
(A
very fast, choreographic sequence begins. Strobe/disco lights. Louie runs in
and out carrying random props. The characters' paths completely cross due to
the chaotic speed).
MATTHEW: (To Beatrice,
crossing paths on stage) Beatrice, your engine needs an urgent oil change!
BEATRICE: (Dodging him with
a dance step) And you need a driver who actually knows how to handle you,
handsome!
ARTHUR: (Chasing Louie)
Louie, forget the popcorn, you are my main feature!
ELEANOR: (Plants herself
downstage center, puts her giant binoculars on backward in a rush, corrects
them, and points straight at the lighting booth, yelling with a massive,
crazed, joyful smile) To hell with dating apps! The lighting tech is
sending me smoke signals with the spotlights! And he has arms that could hold
high-voltage cables! That's my type! I’m coming for you, handsome!
LOUIE: (Dressed as a
waiter, interrupting Arthur, holding a phone to his ear) Hello? The
heartbreak hotline? Your bill, sir! That'll be a twenty-dollar tip and a kiss
from Louie!
ARTHUR: Bring on the kiss!
JULIAN: (Yelling, standing
on top of a chair) And Vladimir is a toxic narcissist! More rhythm! More
speed! I want intensity! Collapse, actors, collapse!
(The
actors run at full speed, colliding across the stage. In the frenzy, Matthew
crashes into Arthur’s table, Arthur trips and falls over Louie, Eleanor loses
her balance while blowing kisses to the tech booth and drops her binoculars,
and Beatrice crashes head-on into Matthew, knocking over a couple of chairs.
Everything ends in physical chaos, with the actors tangled on the floor,
exhausted and in ridiculous positions. Eleanor ends up hugging Matthew’s leg like a lamppost).
SCENE
11: THE META-THEATRICAL BREAK (AMABLE ENDING)
JULIAN: (Blows his whistle
three times desperately from the top of the chair) CUT! CUT! CUT!
(The
chaos stops instantly. The harsh, bright white light of a midday rehearsal
turns on. The actors remain on the floor, exhausted over the broken tables,
sweating and breathing heavily. Julian looks down at them from his chair,
visibly moved, wiping away a tear).
JULIAN: Beautiful... truly,
what a gorgeous dramatic arc. The chaos of the metropolis personified in your
neurotic bodies. It's pure art, guys. The aesthetics of disaster.
ELEANOR: (Breaking
character, letting go of Matthew’s leg, sitting up with difficulty, taking off
one high heel and smiling with relief) Julian... the rehearsal is going
amazing, seriously... but we are completely fried. I feel like I just ran a
marathon in corporate stiletto heels.
MATTHEW: (Taking off his
blazer, rubbing his knee) Yeah, chief... the body can't take this much
intensity anymore. My jaw is literally cramping. But man, that rhythm was
incredible.
ARTHUR: (Giving Louie a
friendly pat on the back as he helps him up) I'd say today’s work really
paid off. What do you guys think if we grab a late-night New York slice and
some ice-cold beers around the corner? My treat.
ELEANOR: (Dusting off her
blazer, compassionate and laughing) If Arthur is paying, I’m in. But maybe
we should just stay here and order a pizza... I promise not to spy on the
polyamorous delivery guy, Betty.
BEATRICE: (Laughing, putting
her arm around Eleanor) Oh, Elenita, if you want, I can introduce you to
Marco, he has a mechanic friend you are going to absolutely love. Let's head
out, we need the air. Pizza and beer sounds perfect.
ARTHUR: And beer!
LOUIE: And lots of beer!
JULIAN: (Fascinated,
climbing down from the chair and packing his notebook) Accepted! We earned
that break. Head on out, I'll catch up with you guys in two minutes.
(The
actors get up laughing, putting their arms around each other's shoulders,
picking up a couple of fallen chairs as they head toward the dressing rooms.
Eleanor walks arm-in-arm with Beatrice, laughing. Julian is left alone center
stage. He walks toward the proscenium, looks directly at the audience with a
witty, reflective smile).
JULIAN: Note to self for
opening night... Romantic failure almost always comes with a consolation
prize.
(Julian
winks at the audience. FAST
BLACKOUT).
THE END
