2/5/99

ADAM: Okay, so I’m on a first date tonight, and the other guy is late. I’m half tempted to leave to teach him a lesson, but so far, he’s only late by my watch. According to the restaurant clock and the one at the bank across the street he’s still got a couple of minutes. So, I guess he’s not really late yet, but it sure feels that way. As you’ve probably guessed, I have some time issues. I recognize this, and I even realize they’ve been a problem with boyfriends in the past. It’s one of those things I’m hoping to work on in this relationship—whoops! See?! There I go, speeding up time again. It’s not a relationship yet, it’s just a date. I mean, I hardly know the guy, just met him last week at the bar just before close, and he suggested we get together tonight for dinner. Here. [Looks at watch.] I hope I heard him right about the time. I’d been dancing and was still suffering from disco-deafness. I’m pretty nervous now, but you should have seen me at home, before. I was a wreck. I spent an hour in the shower trying to get every possible body part he might see perfectly spotless. I triple-lathered all potentially offending crevices with Lever 2000 and Irish Spring, just to be sure. I even left the conditioner in for an extra minute, before rinsing and repeating. Then another hour in front of the mirror, getting the whole package together. Hair, skin, eyebrows, zits. All removed or buffed or placed to perfection. [As he describes the next part, he assumes a pose.] I found that if I suck in my stomach, turn my head just right with the chin slightly down, and smile just so, I look…pretty good. But it would be hard to get through the entire date just like this. Eventually, I’d lose control, he’d see the real me, and buh-bye. Wait! That’s negative thinking—can’t have negative thinking! This is gonna go well! I’m worth dating, I’m worth dating… I managed to calm down, and get out the door, and I was nearly here when I realized with a start that I’d forgotten cologne! I only panicked for a moment, then remembered an old trick from high school. I went to the newsstand, bought a GQ, and rubbed a few fragrance-add samples on my neck. Okay, so I have a few paper-cuts, but at least I smell good. God, I wish I didn’t have to worry about all this shit, I wish I could trust that God or karma or mutual compatibility would draw us together, but instead I obsess about the details, trying to get the little stuff right, in hopes that maybe some of the big stuff won’t show. Truth is, I probably have a lot to offer a guy, but he’s never gonna stick around to find out if my breath stinks, or my hair is bad, or I don’t say just the right thing. Sure, I believe in forgiving mistakes in a relationship, but at this point, one bad moment could be proportionally so huge as to stop the whole development. Shit, I’m starting to get worked up. I better calm down before I sweat and look unattractive. Don’t worry. Breathe deep. Just listen to the Muzak.

[CHRIS enters, stops.]

CHRIS: Just look at him. Gosh, isn’t he cute? This is gonna disrupt my entire plan. See, I promised myself I wasn’t gonna sleep with him tonight. It’s too soon. I want to get to know him first. See, it takes me a while to be comfortable enough with a guy to be really good in bed. And, just for the record, I can be really good in bed. Unfortunately, in this day and age, if you don’t sleep with a guy on the first few dates it’s considered rejection, or like you’re hiding something. But if you go to bed with him right away, you can’t relax enough and it really sucks, so either way you’re fucked…figuratively speaking. So, I promised myself I’d take it slow, see what develops. But he is really cute, don’t you think? He did the sweetest thing the other night—I’d asked for his number, to which he smiled and said yes, but the bar was out of napkins, so he took my pen and wrote his name and number on my palm. All the while he was writing, electric sparks were running up and down my spine. [Holding out hand] I drove home like this just so I wouldn’t risk the chance of smudging it. You can still see part of his name and either a nine or a seven. I know it’s silly, but it’s so cool with someone seems to like you that every little think they do seems pretty amazing. Like look at him. How he’s calmly swaying, singing along to the overhead music. He seems to know every word to "Muskrat Love." Hmmm. But, it’s like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Just out for dinner with a new date. No big deal. God, if only he knew how nervous I was. [Stares a bit longer as George sways.] Okay, just one kiss—I want just one kiss, and I’ll be satisfied. That’s our mission tonight. One kiss. [Approaches George, fourth wall up.] Hi.

ADAM: Oh, hi. [Sticks out his hand as CHRIS goes to hug him, then tries to convert to hug as CHRIS backtracks to handshake. Confusion, the awkward semi-hug.] You made it.

CHRIS: Couldn’t wait. [eye contact, then shy] I mean, I hear the food here is great.

ADAM: Yeah, it is.

CHRIS: So, you’ve been here before.

ADAM: No…but I mean it looks really, good, and I’ve been watching people and they really seem to like it.

[Both are pretty nervous now, and are looking at their shoes with furtive, mis-timed glances at each other.]

CHRIS: Shall we go in?

ADAM (too fast): Yes! Um, yeah. [attempt at humorous gallantry] After you, sir.

CHRIS (picking it up flirtatiously): Why thank you, sir.

ADAM (to audience, as they are sitting): Okay, a little awkward, but salvageable. Calm down. Breathe.

CHRIS (to audience): Just a kiss, just a kiss, he’s a cute guy, no big deal… [Looks at ADAM, then back to audience. "Jeffrey in Gym" Whimper.]

ADAM: So, how are you?

CHRIS: Fine. And you?

ADAM: Fine. And you? Oh, I just asked that, didn’t I? Um, are you hungry? Do you want to start with some appetizers?

CHRIS: Yeah, whatever, that sounds good. What—

ADAM (interrupting): What—Oh, I’m sorry…what where you saying?

CHRIS: No, nothing, you go…

ADAM: I was just asking what looked good to you.

CHRIS: Oh, funny, so was I.

[They laugh a little too hard. Then back to menus.]

CHRIS: So…

ADAM: What?

CHRIS: What looks good?

ADAM: Oh… [studies the menu, then to audience] The pressure of choosing the right appetizer could kill a guy. [back to CHRIS] Um, how ‘bout, um…crab cakes?

CHRIS (instantly enthusiastic): Great! [shuts menu]

ADAM: Oh, good. [pause. George starts nervously hitting his water glass with his fork.]

CHRIS: You know, that reminds me of that old wedding tradition. You know, where everyone bags on their glass until the happy couple kisses. I wonder who kisses if you’re not at a wedding.

[ADAM starts banging the glass as they draw closer to each other, smiling, heads turning slightly. This is gonna be a good kiss.]

CHRIS (turning to audience at the last possible second): Of course, that was the moment the waiter chose to show up.

ADAM (to audience): An ex-boyfriend of mine, no less. Never date bitchy waiters in a small Midwestern town. It will come back to bite you in the ass!

CHRIS: The evening did go better after that, though. By the time dessert came, we even had a good banter going. No kiss yet, but a good banter.

ADAM: I was having a really good time. But as the evening was drawing to a close and he was walking me home, I began to get the jitters. What if he didn’t like me? He seemed to, but maybe he was just being nice. I needed some assurance, really, and I was afraid. I was gonna need it quick.

CHRIS: As we approached his house, we grew silent. We both knew this was make or break time, but didn’t know how to proceed.

ADAM (to CHRIS): Well, this is it. End of the line. Home.

CHRIS: Nice.

ADAM: I had a really nice time tonight.

CHRIS: So did I. (pause) So did I.

ADAM: So… (pause) Maybe I should go in.

CHRIS: Yeah. I gotta get home.

[pause. No one moves. Eyes finally meet.]

ADAM: Well, bye then. [He moves toward CHRIS.]

CHRIS (moving toward ADAM): Yeah, goodnight.

[Kiss prelude]

ADAM (turning to the audience at the last possible moment) Okay, so it was really nice.

CHRIS: Perfect really. Excellent technique.

ADAM: And as I went in…

CHRIS: But as I drove home…

BOTH: I was struck with the now inevitable possibility of a second date.

[ADAM’s happy face morphs to concern. CHRIS’s nervous face morphs to happy.]