ROOMIES ONLY
By GAVARRE BENJAMIN
© BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA
Contact this address if you have produced it or wish to do so: gavarreunam@gmail.com
ROOMIES ONLY
A DARK COMEDY OF FRAGILE MASCULINITY AND URBAN ANXIETY
CHARACTERS:
- MATTHEW (29): Obsessive-compulsive neat freak. Hides his deep need for affection under a thick layer of intellectual cynicism.
- ZACKS (29): Anxious, passive-aggressive competitor. Tries way too hard to look modern and trendy, but is low-key terrified of the future.
- TIFFANY (27): Professional, focused. Just wants a quiet place to survive her master’s degree; gets frustrated easily.
- OLIVER (28): The boyfriend. Shameless, plays at being a seducer, weaponizes a super shallow version of modern "wokeness." Talks a big game but never follows through.
SCENE 1
(The apartment of two friends in San Francisco. It’s a modern space but a bit of a mess. Two empty coffee mugs sit on the table. MATTHEW paces back and forth. ZACKS is adjusting a pair of pretty tight jeans, strategically and slightly ripped at the thigh.)
MATTHEW: Did you seriously put on Carolina Herrera? What is this, a Tinder date in the Mission, or are we just meeting a potential roommate?
ZACKS: It’s my natural scent. Besides, we agreed on making a good impression.
MATTHEW: We said "Strictly business impression," Zacks. We signed a pact, dude. Zero personal attachments, zero shared-sheets drama. The last subletter stiffed us on three months of internet bills because he caught feelings for you, and then everything got weird.
ZACKS: He had attachment issues, that wasn’t my fault. And don’t talk to me about professionalism when you’re wearing that shirt that makes your biceps pop like you just crawled out of a CrossFit box.
MATTHEW: This is my normal shirt.
ZACKS: Yeah, right. And those pants of yours... what’s with the peek-a-boo thigh action? You can see half your leg. Are you gonna discuss utilities or audition for a nineties boy band? It’s pathetic for someone pushing thirty, Matt.
MATTHEW: It’s style, Zacks. It’s called ventilation. You wouldn't know.
ZACKS: ... You look like a guy trying too hard to sneak into a club without showing ID. (He reaches out and yanks a loose thread on Matthew’s ripped jeans.)
MATTHEW: Dude, what the hell! Don’t you dare!
(Zacks pulls too hard. A loud, violent rip echoes: Matthew’s jeans tear completely open from thigh to knee, exposing his underwear.)
MATTHEW: (Screaming) Oh my god! Are you serious?! Those were my favorite pair! My balls are practically hanging out!
ZACKS: It was an accident! Just throw them away already!
MATTHEW: And what do we do now? She’s gonna be here any second and I look like a Mad Max extra. I have to go change!
ZACKS: Run, go! I’ll cover the door!
(Matthew’s cell phone buzzes on the coffee table. It’s on speaker by default. A cheerful, distracted female voice fills the room.)
VOICE OF TIFFANY: Hey, guys! So, we are right outside, just trying to find parking. Quick question though... it’s totally cool if I bring my boyfriend, right? We decided to move in together to save money, so we can split everything four ways—it's gonna be so great! Be up in a minute!
(The call cuts off. Dead silence. Matthew, with his pants hanging in shreds, and Zacks stare at each other, completely frozen by the revelation.)
ZACKS: (In a whisper) Did she say... "we"?
MATTHEW: She said "boyfriend." And she said "four ways."
ZACKS: That changes... everything. The whole vibe of the house is about to go down the drain.
MATTHEW: (Staring at the door, cold and calculating) Zacks... we cannot let this happen.
ZACKS: No, we can't.
MATTHEW: Zacks, activate protocol-abort. Pour the bitter coffee. I’m going for my ugly sweatpants. We are shutting this down.
(The lights cut to black quickly as the sound of the elevator reaching the floor is heard.)
SCENE 2
(Fifteen minutes later. Matthew is now wearing basic sweatpants. Zacks is trying to maintain a relaxed posture. Sitting on the couch across from them are TIFFANY, holding a folder with documents, and her boyfriend, OLIVER, looking way too relaxed, casually tossing his car keys.)
MATTHEW: (Slapping down two glasses of water with faint, oily smudges on the glass) Sorry about the presentation. The dishwasher kicked the bucket, so we just... rinse things quickly. As long as nothing is floating, we call it a win.
TIFFANY: (Suspiciously) No worries, Matthew. Thanks. So, like I mentioned in the email, my budget is totally fine for the deposit, and... (She looks at Oliver.)
OLIVER: Yeah, I mean, the original plan was just Tiff moving out of her current place. But since we’re both working on some creative startups around Oakland, we figured, why pay two rents when we can optimize our resources? So, we're both moving in. The room is pretty spacious, a King bed fits, right?
(Matthew and Zacks exchange a fast, icy glance.)
ZACKS: S-Sure. The square footage is there. What I'm not sure about is... the eco-balance of the apartment. You see, we signed a strict roommate agreement two years ago. It includes a zero-relationship-drama clause.
TIFFANY: Oh, no, we don’t cause any trouble, seriously. We’re super low-key.
MATTHEW: That’s exactly what Bobby used to say. Our last roommate. Lived here two years. At first, it was all peace, meditation... until one Tuesday at three in the morning, we woke up to these blood-curdling screams. We thought we were getting robbed.
ZACKS: We ran into the living room with a golf club. And nope, no robbers. Bobby was having a threesome. With a married couple he met on a location-based app. The noise was... structural, you know? The windows were vibrating.
TIFFANY: (Shifting uncomfortably) Wow... that’s awful. So disrespectful.
MATTHEW: That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was Wednesday morning. I walk into the kitchen for coffee, half-asleep, and there’s Bobby, in his boxers, happily flipping pancakes for the married couple. He just introduced them like it was nothing. "Hey guys, meet Peter and Salma." We had to eat breakfast with them. It was a psychological trauma that Zacks and I still haven't processed. You're pushing thirty, trying to decide if you should pass the butter to "Peter"... while your brain replays the audio from last night... believe me, it was too much.
(A tense pause.)
OLIVER: (Laughs) Dude, that is an absolute gem of a story! Talk about community sharing... And they even made breakfast, haha...
TIFFANY: (Elbows Oliver hard) Oliver, stop! It’s not funny. (To the roommates) I am so sorry you had to deal with that. We are definitely not like that... In fact, Oliver would barely even stay over on weekends because...
ZACKS: But that’s the point, Tiffany. If you guys move in together, the playing field changes. We’d also have the right to bring girls back to our rooms whenever we want to balance out the communal space. And if this place turns into a revolving door for single guys in their thirties having a life crisis, we lose all order. Are you guys planning on spending every single night here? We need to know.
TIFFANY: (Visibly overwhelmed) No... I mean, I didn’t know the vibe here was so... intense. I was just looking for a quiet space to focus on my master’s.
OLIVER: (Leans back on the couch with a playful grin) Look, guys, don't sweat it. We gotta be flexible in this city. If it's just a matter of math and space... instead of fighting over who brings who, we could just easily start a four-way dynamic right here in the house and save ourselves the hassle of outside guests, right? That way, nobody feels left out.
(Dead silence fills the room. Zacks blinks, frozen. Matthew locks eyes with Oliver. Tiffany goes completely rigid.)
TIFFANY: (Standing up abruptly, grabbing her papers) That is a terrible fucking idea, even as a joke, Oliver. You are so incredibly immature.
OLIVER: Babe, it’s a joke, relax...
TIFFANY: No, it’s not a joke! You’ve been making these "modern" comments all week and I am completely done. (To the roommates) Sorry for wasting your time. It’s crystal clear to me that this apartment is not for me. Excuse me.
(Tiffany stomps towards the exit and slams the front door behind her. Oliver sits for a moment, weighing the situation. He gets up calmly and looks at the friends.)
OLIVER: Uh-oh. I think she’s actually pissed this time. Oh well, she was due for therapy this week anyway. (Walks toward the door but stops) Hey... real question, though. I love the room. And honestly, she and I were about to break up anyway, this just speeded up the process. Do you guys take single guys?
MATTHEW: Single rent is higher. And the cleaning rules are non-negotiable.
OLIVER: Works for me. I’ll go calm her down, put her in an Uber, and I'll be back in an hour for the keys and the bills list, cool? See ya later, roomies. (Winks ambiguously and exits).
EPILOGUE
(The same apartment, a year later. There are traces of Oliver's passage—maybe a Fight Club poster, or a piece of furniture that is too modern to fit, like a massive air fryer. MATTHEW and ZACKS are sitting on the couch sharing a cold pizza straight from the box. There is a silence of deep fatigue, but also of relief.)
ZACKS: (Chewing) I can't believe he finally took his last bottle of magnesium and protein powder. I feel like we lived twelve months inside a TikTok algorithm.
MATTHEW: We have to give him credit for one thing: the bastard had a flair for chaos. How many "girlfriends" did you count in a year? I stopped counting at the third Vanessa. Well, the second one was named Prudence! But she had that same energy of wanting to redesign our living room.
ZACKS: Three official girlfriends and about a hundred thousand "shared life projects." And always in the kitchen during parties... And to think about how scared we were on day one. Do you remember? When he blurted out that four-way comment with that psychopathic smile. I spent the first three months sleeping with my door locked, swearing that at any moment he was gonna walk into my room with lube and a polyamorous contract. In the end, it was all just an act, dude. He talks a big game, but he never delivers.
MATTHEW: It was all a game, dude. Just cheap seduction tactics. He loved messing with us, seeing the panic on our faces when he got too close in the kitchen or when he suggested that we "share energy"... All talk, no action. A closeted pickup artist who just wanted someone to validate his memes.
ZACKS: Yeah, but it wears you down. That hyper-modern masculinity where it's all "I’m so free and woke, but I leave my dirty underwear in the communal laundry room"—it's insufferable. I’m glad he had to go. His vibe was draining us. Last month I almost bought ripped jeans again.
MATTHEW: God forbid. We’re too old for induced identity crises. The good thing is we got the wheel back. We're back to order. Back to the beautiful, predictable, boring single life of our thirties.
(A firm, cheerful knock at the door: "Knock, knock, knock".)
ZACKS: Don’t tell me he came back because he forgot his yoga mat.
MATTHEW: Go look. If it's him, tell him we're dead.
(Zacks opens the door. TIFFANY and OLIVER are standing on the threshold, holding hands and beaming.)
OLIVER: What's up, my eternal roomies! What's shaking? You gotta let us in, we're in a rush.
TIFFANY: Hey, guys! So good to see you.
ZACKS: Tiffany? Oliver? I thought... well, I thought you guys were killing each other in the parking lot a year ago.
OLIVER: (Laughs) Nah, man, hazards of the trade. Modern love is cyclical. We broke up, we got back together, went to couples therapy, broke up again... And well, we have an exclusive scoop for you! (They show an engagement ring).
TIFFANY: We’re getting married! On the beach, something super organic and pet-friendly.
MATTHEW: (Gets up, with slight irony) Wow... okay. Honestly, congratulations. What a major surprise. Who would've thought a four-way dynamic would end up in a legally binding duet.
OLIVER: Gotta settle down, brothers. The market out there is brutal. But hey, you are obviously invited, you'll get the digital pass on WhatsApp. Don't you dare miss it!
ZACKS: We'll be there, Oliver. Wearing my most formal pants, I promise. Congrats to both of you.
TIFFANY: Thanks, guys. I'm so glad Oliver lived with you, I feel like he matured a lot... or at least he knows how to use an air fryer now. See you at the wedding!
OLIVER: Keep it real, roomies!
(Oliver and Tiffany leave laughing. Zacks closes the door slowly and collapses onto the couch next to Matthew.)
ZACKS: Man. Everything moves so fast out there, dude. People hate each other, propose threesomes, stop talking, get married on the beach... and here we are, fighting over pizza crusts.
MATTHEW: It’s just that you always eat the best part and leave me the burnt cardboard.
ZACKS: (Cynical) I left you the sesame seed crust, Matthew.
MATTHEW: Ah, how generous, my friend.
ZACKS: (Smiles half-heartedly, comfortable in the usual tension) Yeah... Well. The bright side is, in the middle of this urban mess... we have each other.
(Matthew immediately turns to him with dramatic suspicion. Zacks catches the tension and clears his throat quickly).
ZACKS: Like... as roomies, of course. Obviously. In other words, equitable distribution of expenses, maintenance of the home... *cough cough*... you know. Strictly business.
MATTHEW: (Smiles half-heartedly, relaxing) Strictly business, Zacks. Get another beer.
(Zacks gets up towards the kitchen while Matthew puts on music and makes rhythmic movements, but without dancing at all, as if he were doing a sports warm-up, but also as if he wanted to dance. Zacks arrives with the beers and stares at him from the kitchen with a smile of absolute complicity. The lights slowly go down to black).
THE END
