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
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