A Woman leans against a bar, drink in hand (gin martini, dirty, extra olives). Other Women and Men mill about, flirting. Man wearing fedora approaches.
Man: Hi there … (peering at nametag) … TK421. Want to get a drink sometime?
Woman: (Toasting.) Well, I’ve got a drink. Thanks.
Man: WHY DON’T YOU JUST ADMIT YOU DON’T LIKE BALD MEN.
Man storms off.
Woman: Wow. How did I manage to screw that one up?
Man 2 approaches. He carries a baby.
Man 2: Hey there … (peering at her nametag) … TK421. Great profile!
Man 2 offers baby to the Woman. She doesn’t take it. Awkward Pause. Man 2 moves on.
Woman: Jesus, what is this, No Exit? (Looks at audience.) Get it? No Exit?
Awkward Pause. The audience moves on. Man 3 approaches. He is small but not short, a little too young for her, but what the hey. They look at one another for a while, sensing an attraction.
Man 3/Woman (simultaneous): Hi/hey.
Woman: So … (peering at nametag) … THX1138. Hey! I get that!
Man 3: Cool.
He smiles a beautiful smile with just a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes. Runs his fingers through his hair. You see the Woman smell him. It’s nice.
Man 3: Yeah. You know, most kids wanted to be Han Solo. I’ve always felt I’m more of a Luke Skywalker.
Woman (deflating a little but hanging in there): Oh. So …
cute4X4 guy walks by, no shirt, covering face with sign. Man 3 stares at his ass.
Man 3 walks away, following cute4x4guy. Bartender appears.
Bartender: Hey! You know you’ll get more accurate matches if you answer more questions!
Woman: Yeah, I know, it’s just … accurate to what? Some fictionalized idea of the perfect person for me? Someone who on paper has no unacceptables but in reality might be a serial killer? I mean I just feel like maybe we’re doing this backward. I can’t seem to get a sense of anybody.
Bartender: Would you date someone who had ever had a relationship with someone of the opposite sex?
Woman: I mean, ever? Is that really someone’s criteria? And don’t you think there should be at least some attempt at standardization for these questions?
Bartender: Which describes you better, confrontational or non-confrontational?
Woman: That’s exactly what I mean – it’s not an either/or situation.
Bartender: How often do you smoke cigars?
Woman: I’m pretty sure that’s not a question for me.
Bartender: Is it cool for guys to wear earrings?
Woman: I don’t know, is it 1987?
Bartender (exploding): IT’S A COMPUTER PROGRAM FOR GOD’S SAKE JUST ANSWER THE QUESTIONS.
Woman: Computer program? What, like a holodeck? (Awkward laugh. Possibly with snort.)
Bartender (simmering): _
Woman (sheepishly): Martini, please.
Bartender freshens her drink. Disappears.
Woman: I am crushing it.
She leans there a moment, playing with her drink. Spills some. Looks around casually then licks the spill up off the bar. An idea.
Woman: Computer program, huh?
She begins to swish her hands around, manipulating the men around her ala Minority Report et al. She swishes a man into prominence, observes, swishes him to the side, others are brought forward. Some are compared side by side. She starts to giggle. Uses her hands to make the men dance. Poses them in positions of elaborate sexual shenanigans. Does that thing where when you pose men’s bodies like female models in fashion magazines you realize how ridiculous the positions of the female models are.
Woman: So this is what it feels like to objectify people!
Gets a little excited. Slips in her spilled martini and almost falls. The men are all crashed into each other by her waving hands. They stare at her.
Woman: It’s okay! I’m fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine here. (No one responds.) Oh forget it.
Woman returns to the bar. The Men resume circling among the women, flirting.
Woman (shouts at a passing Man): Hey you know what’s wrong with internet dating? Huh? No wingman!
The Man keeps walking. Bartender appears.
Bartender: Woman, you are making a scene.
Woman: Well, it’s what I do! (Looks at the audience.) Get it? Cause I’m (heavily slurring speech) in the theater?
Bartender: Uh-huh. So how does this thing end?
Woman (burping): Probably with a blackout. (Looks at audience.) Get it? Cause I’m dru–
The Woman passes out.
Blackout. End of Part Two.
… to be continued on the next Internet Dating: A Play.