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   Act III 
  Dark. Spot lights fade up on MAN
  2 and MAN 1. They are in their traditional
  spots from Act I. 
  MAN 2                  So how was your date with my friend? 
  MAN 1                  I'm
  not sure it was a date.  
  MAN 2                  Where's
  the confusion? 
  MAN 1                  It's
  just so hard these days to tell when it's a date and when it's just two
  friends doing something together. 
  MAN 2                  True,
  true. A date is ultimately defined by having similar end games. 
  MAN 1                  What
  sort of end game? 
  MAN 2                  Sex
  of course.  
  MAN 1                  We
  didn't have sex! 
  MAN 2                  It
  doesn't matter. You'd eventually like to have sex with her? 
  MAN 1                  Yeah.
  Eventually. So does that make it a date? 
  MAN 2                  No.
  Her end game has to be, of course, wanting to have
  sex with you. 
  MAN 1                  Eventually. 
  MAN 2                  Eventually. 
  MAN 1                  And
  I suppose it would be way way out of line to ask
  her at any point "Are we going out because we merely have some common
  interests and enjoy each other's company or are these one-on-one outings a
  building process by which we set down emotional tendrils, grow the
  relationship, and eventually get it on?"  
  MAN 2                  You
  have learned well, my young padewan. 
  MAN 1                  So
  sex is like opening the box on Schrödinger's cat. What we do together is both
  a date and not a date. The question cannot be resolved until we, like, yee ha! ride 'em skipper! We're gonna use all
  the furniture tonight, baby!  
  MAN 2                  Absolutely.
  And whatever you do make sure you don't let the relationship evolve into a
  No-Girlfriend situation. 
  MAN 1                  A
  No what? 
  MAN 2                  A
  No-Girlfriend. She's yes to all sorts of
  boyfriend/girlfriend like activities: horror films, Christmas at your
  parents' place, rides to the airport. She is, however, no to one thing [holds up index finger then extends the
  rest of his fingers and flattens out his hand parallel with the bar] horizontalling. The only dimension that defines a
  relationship. 
  MAN 1                  Only
  you would reduce love to planar geometry. 
  Dark. Spot lights
  fade up on MAN 2 and WOMAN 1. They are in their
  traditional spots from Act I. 
  MAN 2                  So how was your date with my friend? 
  WOMAN 1           It was nice. 
  MAN 2                  "Nice"
  as in "he's a nice guy and I think we can be friends, nice?" or
  "nice" as in "some entirely new and unheard of female use of
  the word nice to describe a guy she just met and finds attractive,
  nice"? 
  WOMAN 1           "Nice" as in "he
  did nothing piggish and he knew how to keep a conversation going and I sort
  of wished he called me the next day but it was nice in a way he didn't,
  nice". 
  MAN 2                  Sounds
  nice. 
  WOMAN 1           Yes, very nice. One concern, if
  I may. 
  MAN 2                  Naturally. 
  WOMAN 1           He's not one of
  those Asian fetish guys, is he? 
  MAN 2                  What? 
  WOMAN 1           I never know initially if a guy
  is after me because he likes me or he's just one of those Asian fetish types. 
  MAN 2                  What's
  an Asian fetish type? 
  WOMAN 1           He likes Asian women. 
  MAN 2                  And
  if he disliked Asian women? 
  WOMAN 1           He'd be racist, of course. 
  MAN 2                  Well,
  then, let me make it clear at this juncture in our friendship, I like Asian
  women. 
  WOMAN 1           I always knew you were one of
  those Asian fetishers! 
  MAN 2                  Look,
  all I'm saying is I don't dislike Asian women. I don't care if she's white,
  black, Asian, or one of those green Star Trek women. An attractive woman is
  an attractive woman. Period! And what if I were to say I prefer Asian women?
  Hypothetically speaking, of course. 
  WOMAN 1           Hypothetically speaking then
  you just might probably be an Asian fetisher. 
  MAN 2                  That's
  entirely unfair. There are a lot of white woman that will only date like
  Latino guys or Jamaican guys. Why is that okay? No one slaps that woman with
  a label. People just say "oh, that's what she likes." But if a guy
  expresses some overt racial preference, he's got a fetish. And yet, if his
  tongue was hanging out every time a big breasted blonde woman walked by he'd
  be labeled "normal". I just so happen to
  like women with dark hair, who are intelligent, speak more than one language,
  like spicy food, work in the medical, accounting, or engineering fields. Okay
  so sue me if more Asian women match those criteria than Swedish women. 
  WOMAN 1           Okay, sorry,
  there are some exceptions. I'm just a little sensitive. If you met some of
  these creeps you'd understand. They seem like pretty nice guys at first.
  Then after about a date or two the guy announces that he "likes Asian
  women" as if it were some sort of magnanimous gesture on his part. He
  then drops such key phrases that he likes Asian women because they're
  "demure" (i.e. "subservient"), "feminine" (i.e.
  "no body hair"), and "exotic" (i.e. "in possession
  of secret sexual techniques unknown to white women"). My god, the lot of
  them are really nothing more than shallow, sex-crazed anal freaks who have
  written off an entire race of women because they got dumped on prom night! 
  MAN 2                  I
  had no idea. 
  WOMAN 1           No you don't, do you? You have
  no idea how hard it is sometimes. Not only do I have the normal problems of
  trying to weed out the married cheaters, the ax
  murders, and the future stalkers with anger management problems, but then I
  have to figure out if a guy is an Asian fetisher or
  even an egg. 
  MAN 2                  An
  egg? 
  WOMAN 1           Those are dudes who are white
  on the outside but yellow on the inside. They're not interested in dating me,
  per se. They're trying to date me and a thousand years of Korean history. They're
  not aggressively scary like the Asian fetish types. They just get boring
  really quickly. They're so predictable. Everything they want to do revolves
  around Korean or Asian culture. You know I really like eating Greek food and
  then seeing a German opera. I rarely want to spend every weekend eating
  Korean food, seeing a Korean film retrospective at the art gallery, and then
  going to Koreatown for no rae
  bang. 
  MAN 2                  No
  ray what? 
  WOMAN 1           At least you're not an Egg.
  It's Korean karaoke. 
  MAN 2                  I
  can assure you, he's not an egg or one of those Asian fetish types either. 
  WOMAN 1           Good. I think he has some
  possibilities. 
  MAN 2                  Oh
  yeah? 
  WOMAN 1           Yeah. But don't tell him I said
  so. I don't want him to think I'm easy. 
  MAN 2                  Your
  secret is safe with me. 
  Dark. Spot lights
  fade up on MAN 2 and MAN 1. They are in their traditional spots
  from Act I. 
  MAN 2                  Dude, good news, she likes you! 
  MAN 1                  Get
  out of here. 
  MAN 2                  Yes.
  But you didn't hear it from me. 
  MAN 1                  No
  probs. Unless you have a problem with this.  
  MAN 2                  Why
  would I have a problem with this? 
  MAN 1                  You
  spend a lot of time with her. I feel like I'm stealing one of your women.
  We're best friends. I don't want this to come between us. 
  MAN 2                  When
  did anything like a life-long friendship ever stop a man from trying to steal
  another man's woman? 
  MAN 1                  True.
  So, now that it's looking like I'll be off the market, I guess I can devote a
  bit of time finding you a woman. 
  MAN 2                  Why
  couldn't you do that before? 
  MAN 1                  Because
  I was single too. We were both competing for the same pool of available,
  attractive women. You know, now that I'm not in competition with you, I find
  your wit and stylish clothing less irritating. 
  MAN 2                  Thanks. 
  MAN 1                  [motions to audience] Hey,
  what about her. She's cute. She looks like Julia Roberts. 
  MAN 2                  [Does not even look] Forget it, I hate
  Julia Roberts. The woman is fugly. 
  MAN 1                  She's
  a helluva lot cuter than that co-op you were
  slobbering over last month. 
  MAN 2                  Which
  co-op? 
  MAN 1                  The
  short one with the facial hair. 
  MAN 2                  Oh
  yeah her. She was sort of cute. Sue me for noticing. 
  MAN 1                  You're
  trying to tell me a five-foot one-inch tall bearded woman is more attractive
  than Julia Roberts? 
  MAN 2                  No.
  What I'm saying is it's all relative. At a software
  company where there are more stalls in the women's restroom than there are
  actual women in the company, a five-one bearded woman looks pretty good. If
  Julia Roberts was an intern at work, you can bet I'd take the long way to the
  coffee room just to go by her cubicle every day. But against the pantheon of Hollywood
  goddesses, a fantasy world where I could have any woman, Julia Roberts
  wouldn't get a second look from me. 
  MAN 1                  Oh
  well, excuse me, Hef. 
  Dark. Spot lights
  fade up on MAN 2 and WOMAN 1. They are in their
  traditional spots from Act I. 
  WOMAN 1           I was thinking
  about fixing you up with my coworker Cheryl. 
  MAN 2                  Have
  I ever met Cheryl? 
  WOMAN 1           No. She's fairly new. 
  MAN 2                  Do you have a photo? 
  WOMAN 1           No,
  I don't. But I've told her a
  lot about you and she's pretty keen to meet you. 
  MAN 2                  Hrm. So
  this would be like a blind date? 
  WOMAN 1           I guess. But the way you say
  "blind date" makes it seem like I'm suggesting lung surgery.  
  MAN 2                  I've
  never had much luck with blind dates. You ever go on a blind date? 
  WOMAN 1           You know once my dad tried to
  fix me up on a blind date. 
  MAN 2                  Your
  dad? How weird is that? 
  WOMAN 1           Yeah, it's kind of
  embarrassing, actually. I was 21. My father and mother had been married at 18
  so in their minds, I was rapidly approaching old maid status. I had come home
  from a night class. My dad was sitting on the living room couch with a stack
  of letters in front of him on the coffee table. He called me over. He
  explained he had run an ad in the local Korean paper requesting letters from
  young men of noble character between 21 and 25 who might be interested in
  dating his daughter, a smart, traditional lady with traditional Korean values
  and American citizenship. He received over two hundred and fifty letters. He
  told me he spent a week narrowing it down to these seven letters. He offered
  them to me. I should now choose. 
  MAN 2                  Did
  you? 
  WOMAN 1           No! He totally picked the wrong
  time. It had been a bad day for me. The kind of bad day only a hormonal woman
  in her early, early twenties can have. On top of trying to grapple with
  issues of school, friendship, romance, fertility, work, and the frightening,
  ever looming future, I was retaining water and none of my friends had noticed
  my new shoes, which were hurting my feet, possibly because they were new or
  possibly because I had gained an enormous and obvious amount of weight since
  I bought them three days ago. My friends were purposely avoiding commenting
  on my shoes because then they would have to tell me "you're too fat to
  wear those shoes". And now this. Now here was my father in my face
  trying to tell me... tell me what exactly? Tell me that the only hope I had
  of ever finding a man was by taking out an ad? My own father was telling me
  this? I ripped the letters from his hands, burst into tears, and ran to my room.
  I bunched the letters into a big ball and threw them into my garbage pail. I
  crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep. 
  MAN 2                  Sounds
  traumatic. 
  WOMAN 1           Yeah, well, around two in the
  morning I woke up and began thinking. "Dad read through two hundred and
  fifty letters and found only seven men worthy of me? What sort of men does
  dad think are worthy of me?" I got out of bed, removed the letters from
  the trash, and got back into bed with them. I smoothed out the letters in
  front of me and started reading. Four of the letters had pictures and three
  of them were really, really cute. One was an intern at a children's hospital.
  Another just started work as a commodities broker. The third, Peter, was 24
  and in law school. Peter was a third generation child of the family that
  controls the Samsung empire. 
  MAN 2                  Good
  work, pa! 
  WOMAN 1           You're telling me! In the
  morning, I put the law student's letter in front of my dad and sort of
  mumbled "He seems okay." 
  MAN 2                  Did
  you ever meet him? 
  WOMAN 1           Oh yeah. He became my first
  serious boyfriend. For having the kind of looks, brains, and old money that
  let you get away with being supremely cocky, he lacked a dominant asshole
  gene typically found in his type. When I finally had to break up with him, it
  was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.  
  MAN 2                  Why did you break up with him? 
  WOMAN 1           He was bucking to get married
  and I couldn't conceive of marriage until I was in my early 30s. Ever try to
  break up with someone that your parents love like a son? I had to tell them
  he was getting all creepy and that's why I broke up with him. 
  MAN 2                  Was
  he getting creepy? 
  WOMAN 1           No, that's just a story I made
  up to convince my family I was making a rational choice. He was a prince to
  the end. About the only thing that bothered me about him was he would say odd
  things. I think they were meant to sound romantic in their original Korean.
  However, when he said them in English they lost a lot in the translation. I
  can still picture him leaning over a restaurant table and saying to me in this
  bedroom voice "I want to wrap my loving arms around you like seaweed
  around well-prepared sushi rice". 
  MAN 2                  Do you ever regret breaking up with him? I mean, a young,
  good-looking, nice, rich lawyer doesn't come along every day. 
  WOMAN 1           Yes, many times I do regret
  breaking up with him.  
  MAN 2                  You'll
  have a helluva time finding better.  
  WOMAN 1           Sometimes a woman doesn't care
  about doing better. Sometimes you just want to do differently. 
  Dark. Spot lights
  fade up on MAN 1 and WOMAN 1. WOMAN 1 is in her
  traditional seat from Act I. MAN 1 is in MAN 2's spot again. 
  MAN 1 and WOMAN 1 are
  laughing a bit, discussing something between themselves 
  Spot light fades up
  on MAN 2. MAN 2 is in MAN 1's traditional spot from Act I. 
  MAN 2                  So
  now where'd you two little love birds get off to
  tonight? 
  WOMAN 1           We went for Thai
  food. 
  MAN 1                  It
  was great. It was really spicy. 
  WOMAN 1           That
  wasn't at all spicy. I suspected it wasn't going to be that good. I was the
  only Asian in the place. 
  MAN 1                  You
  know you do that a lot. 
  WOMAN 1           Insult your favorite
  restaurants? 
  MAN 1                  No.
  You have this habit of counting Asians. 
  WOMAN 1           Hey? 
  MAN 1                  No
  matter where we go, you always give me an inventory of the number of Asians
  in the place. 
  WOMAN 1 begins to protest but she's cut short by MAN
  2 
  MAN 2                  He's
  right. You're always making comments like 'lots of Asians at this mall' or 'I
  think I've doubled this town's Asian population'. 
  MAN 1                  [to MAN 2] Well, I liked it. We'll have to go
  there for lunch one day. 
  MAN 2                  What's
  it called? 
  MAN 1                  Magic
  Thais. 
  MAN 2                  Magic
  Thais. Magic Thais. Why does that sound familiar? 
  MAN 1                  Did
  you ever read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? 
  MAN 2                  Of
  course. It's a pun on Majicthais. He's one of those
  two philosopher in Hitchhiker's that were bested by
  Deep Thought. 
  MAN 1                  Exactly.
  All their menu items are named after Hitchhiker's characters. There's dishes like Marvin the Paranoid Android Pad Thai
  and Zaphod Spicy Chicken with Peanut Sauce. 
  MAN 2                  Errr... on second thought maybe I'll pass on that. Sounds
  a bit too cutesy. I love Thai food but I'm growing a little tired of these
  Thai puns restaurant reviewers load up their headlines with. "Thai one
  on!" [shakes head in disgust] 
  MAN 1                  The
  food is Fan-thai-stick! 
  WOMAN 1           Indulge your Fan-Thai-see! 
  MAN 1                  Hold the rosemary, give me the Thai menu! 
  WOMAN 1           Thai
  me up, Thai me down this food is good! 
  MAN 1                  Make thai-er
  tracks to this place! 
  WOMAN 1           A great place on a Thai-ght budget! 
  MAN 1                  It's a Thai-dy
  little place! 
  MAN 2 is glaring at them 
  MAN 2                  Are
  you guys having fun? 
  MAN 1                  I
  have to use the little boys room. 
  MAN 2                  Me
  too. 
  MAN 1                  If
  you'll excuse me. 
  WOMAN 1           Certainly. 
  MAN 1
  gets up and moves towards the back of the stage, into the dark. MAN 2 whistles to self and taps fingers on bar top. 
  WOMAN 1           I thought you said you had to
  go to the bathroom too? 
  MAN 2                  Yes.
   
  WOMAN 1           So why aren't you going? 
  MAN 2                  Men
  never go to the bathroom together. It's polite to give another guy at least a
  ten second lead. [looks at watch]
  Okay, safe. 
  MAN 2 gets up and moves
  towards the back of the stage, into the dark. 
  Lights fade up behind
  the bar. There are four evenly spaced urinals. A row of sinks and a hand
  dryer is further towards the back of the stage. 
  Lights on the bar
  fade out. 
  MAN 1 is facing the
  audience, standing behind the left-most urinal. MAN
  1 is in the process of relieving himself. To the far right, perpendicular to
  the line of urinals is a group of sinks and an electric hot air hand dryer. MAN
  2 enters the restroom from the left. MAN 2
  considers the row of urinals and takes up a position behind the right most urinal and begins relieving himself. MAN
  1 finishes and flushes. MAN 1 turns to MAN
  2. 
  MAN 1                  So
  I need new eyeglasses --  
  MAN 2                  [gives MAN 1 a dirty look] -- excuse me I'm
  urinating here. Do you mind waiting? 
  MAN 1                  You
  can talk and piss at the same time, can't you? 
  MAN 2                  Do
  you know nothing about male bathroom etiquette? 
  MAN 1 is about to answer
  but MAN 2 cuts him off by raising his
  index finger to indicate "one minute". MAN
  2 finishes urinating and flushes. MAN 2
  moves to the sinks. MAN 1 follows. With
  great dramatic flare MAN 2 presents his
  hands to MAN 1, as if to show he's
  unarmed. MAN 2 begins washing his hands
  and MAN 1 then follows. 
  MAN 2                  When
  two males are in a public washroom, it is customary to a) avoid eye contact
  b) avoid conversation until such time as both men's flies are firmly in the
  upright position. It is preferable that both men's right and left hands are
  clearly visible in the non-threatening act of hand washing. Conversation must
  be strictly limited to sports or work. You were saying? 
  MAN 1                  I
  was about to say I need new eyeglasses and I was thinking of taking her with
  me. Any potential pitfalls there? 
  MAN 2                  No.
  I think that's a brilliant idea. There are two things no male should buy
  without the advice and consent of a woman. Eye glasses and a leather jacket. 
  MAN 1 presses his face
  closer to the mirror. MAN 1 teases his
  eyebrows a bit. 
  MAN 1                  Good
  god, these eyebrows are growing out of control. They're going Brezhnev
  on me. 
  MAN 2                  You
  look like a bad Star Trek makeup effect. 
  BOTH finish washing their hands. BOTH move simultaneously to
  the single hand air dryer. MAN 2 is just a
  little bit quicker and bumps MAN 1 aside. MAN
  1 reflexively looks around for another air dryer but sees none and stands
  there with his hands like a surgeon who has just disinfected his hands. 
  MAN 1                  This is the problem with public washrooms. They'll put in
  twelve sinks but only one hand dryer. Wouldn't you think if twelve people
  were washing their hands, they'd all get done about the same time? 
  MAN 2 presses the hand
  dryer lever but it doesn't turn on. MAN 2
  pounds it a few more times. Nothing. 
  MAN 2                  Great. 
  MAN 2 thrusts his right
  hand under his left arm pit and his left hand under his right arm pit. He
  lowers his arms and quickly removes his hands, wiping them dry under his arm
  pits. 
  MAN 1                  That's
  just a little disgusting. 
  MAN 2                  Hey,
  why do you think God gave us arm pits? 
  MAN 1 shrugs and wipes his
  hands in the same manner. 
  Dark. Spot lights
  fade up on MAN 2 and WOMAN 1. They are in their
  traditional spots from Act I. 
  MAN 2                  You sure your parents won't have a problem with you dating a
  white guy? 
  WOMAN 1           Not so much these days. 
  MAN 2                  Don't
  they want full blooded Korean grandchildren? 
  WOMAN 1           Luckily I have a younger
  brother and that responsibility seems to have fallen on him. 
  MAN 2                  How
  did you swing that? 
  WOMAN 1           Some luck and some chutzpah.
  For a couple years my mother was putting on the full court press about
  marrying and producing grandkids. Meanwhile I was sort of seeing this white
  guy named Dave at school. I kept it a secret for a few months but knew
  eventually I'd have to let mom know. So what I did was acclimatize her. I
  started hinting I was hanging out with a group of school friends that may
  include a white guy named Dave. Then I started showing her group photos of my
  friends and I would casually point out Dave. At some point my mother
  commented Dave looked like an intelligent young man. Emboldened I then showed
  her a picture of Dave and I sitting on top of a
  picnic table together. 
  MAN 2                  My
  god, sitting with a man on top of a picnic table! You may as well have told
  her you were sleeping together! 
  WOMAN 1           Hey, I left some wiggle room.
  In the picture a picnic basket was between us. 
  MAN 2                  Ah
  yes. I believe the nuns in Catholic school used to insist the width of a
  picnic basket was ethical distance between a man and woman. Or was it the
  width of a baptismal font? I can't remember anymore. 
  WOMAN 1           The thing is, my mom fixated on
  the picnic basket. She wanted to know whose it was and the contents. I said
  it was Dave's and he packet it with ham sandwiches and potato salad from the
  deli. What happened next I'm still not sure of.
  Either mom suggested maybe Dave would like to try some traditional Korean
  cooking or I suggested Dave's diet was bland and could be enriched with some
  of her wonderfully spicy dishes. In any regard, a dinner invite was extended
  and dinner invite was accepted. 
  MAN 2                  Ah,
  dinner. Was it one of those Joy Luck Club moments? 
  WOMAN 1           The dinner was a painless
  affair. Dave actually managed to make my father laugh. But after Dave left,
  my mother started raising the customary objections. I was not about to let
  months of prep work go down the drain. I stared directly at my mother and
  said "Mom, is he my boyfriend or your boyfriend?" She had no answer
  and never raised an issue with who I was dating ever again. I think she feels
  I'm somehow lost and it is better to concentrate on my poor brother Timmy. 
  Dark. Spot lights
  fade up on MAN 2 and MAN 1. They are in their traditional spots from
  Act I. 
  MAN 1                  Did you know rice isn't a vegetable? 
  MAN 2                  Says
  who? 
  MAN 1                  Says
  my girlfriend.  
  MAN 2                  If it requires sun,
  soil, and water to grow and it does not taste good mixed with yogurt, it's a
  vegetable. 
  MAN 1                  People
  mix rice and yogurt. 
  MAN 2                  Ever
  try rice yogurt? 
  MAN 1                  [ponders] Yeah. Still, it doesn't make
  yogurt taste bad. Actually it doesn't really add any taste. 
  MAN 2                  It
  doesn't add taste; it adds weird. It adds crunchy, which is as bad. 
  MAN 1                  Anyway, on the food pyramid rice is
  considered a grain. 
  MAN 2                  Screw the food pyramid. I eat so many processed microwaved foods my diet is better described by the
  bottom rung of the Periodic Table of Elements. 
  MAN 1                  We're reaching that age where we have to start thinking about our
  health. 
  MAN 2                  Suddenly you're a health nut. It's her influence isn't it? 
  MAN 1                  What do you mean? 
  MAN 2                  Nothing is more unsettling to a woman than
  being in a relationship with a man who's cavalier
  about his health. Not only does it piss her off that men have nothing
  comparable in terms of the pain and degradation of a visit to the gynecologist, but if she starts seeing you as a potential
  life partner, it adds another thing she has to worry about at night. 
  MAN 1                  Like what? 
  MAN 2                  She begins to think "Is this guy going to die of a heart attack at
  age 55? Because when I hit my 50s, I'll be old and crusty and I'll never be
  able to find another man." 
  MAN 1                  You know what goes on at
  those gynecologists? 
  MAN 2                  Only what I saw in that
  Jeremy Irons movie "Dead Ringers". 
  MAN 1                  You been to a doctor
  lately? 
  MAN 2                  Why, need the name of
  one? 
  MAN 1                  Not really. I'm just wondering if I'm at
  that age where I need regular rectal exams.  
  MAN 2                  I don't know, man. I've
  not been to a doctor since the end of the Reagan Administration.  
  MAN 1                  You should probably start going to a doctor yourself. You're at that
  age. 
  MAN 2                  What age? 
  MAN 1                  36. 
  MAN 2                  What's so special about 36? 
  MAN 1                  Given the average male life expectancy is 72, you're, well, you're half
  dead. 
  MAN 2                  You're such a pessimist.
  I prefer looking at it from the optimist's point of view. I'm not half dead.
  I'm half alive. 
  MAN 1                  You won't get any arguments from me. 
  MAN 2                  I'm not scared of death. 
  MAN 1                  Bull crap. 
  MAN 2                  It's true. I went to the
  dentist last year and he put me under the gas. One moment I'm in the
  dentist's chair and counting backwards from ten. The next thing I know I'm
  being woken up and told the procedure was done. Something like an hour passed
  but as far as I knew, no time had passed. There was zero perception during
  that hour. I got to thinking that's what death is like, except you're under
  the gas forever. It's nothing more than a deep, dreamless sleep from which
  you never wake up. 
  MAN 1                  Sounds
  horrible. 
  MAN 2                  Why
  does that sound horrible? 
  MAN 1                  Because
  you're dead. 
  MAN 2                  What's
  so bad about being dead? 
  MAN 1                  As
  you said, it's the cessation of all thoughts, feelings, pleasures. It was
  like working for that dot.com. 
  MAN 2                  What's
  so bad about a cessation of thought and feeling? 
  MAN 1                  Dude,
  why do I have to keep coming back to this? You're dead! 
  MAN 2                  You're
  arguing in circles. Think a second: before you were born, you experienced no
  thoughts, no feelings, no pleasures. Weren't you
  technically dead for millions of years before you were conceived? You didn't
  seem to mind then. 
  MAN 1                  When
  I was in my mother's womb, I was wet, naked, and fed through an umbilical
  cord. In the same way I don't want to go back to sucking food out of a slimy
  appendage, I no longer want to give up the consciousness I know I possess. In
  fact, I so fear losing that, I'm more than willing to entertain the idea
  that, as boring as it seems, there is a heaven where people sit around on
  clouds playing harps for eternity. 
  MAN 2                  That's
  your vision of heaven? 
  MAN 1                  No.
  I said I was willing to entertain the idea. I don't necessarily believe it.
  My vision of heaven is a nudge weirder. 
  MAN 2                  Weirder,
  huh? 
  MAN 1                  Yeah.
  In Catholic school in grade 4 a priest came to my class. He mentioned that in
  heaven you will know everything. Cool. But I figured just simply having the
  knowledge beamed into my newly acquired super consciousness couldn't be that
  fun. The acquisition of knowledge shouldn't be so boring, especially in
  heaven. So what I envisioned was your first couple centuries are like an
  extended episode of Leonard Nimoy's "In Search
  Of". Everything you've ever wondered about is covered in an episode. 
  MAN 2                  Everything? 
  MAN 1                  Absolutely.
  Everything from "Who broke my Rock 'm Sock 'm Robots?" to "Who
  shot JFK?" Everything you ever wondered about would be presented in the
  form of an "In Search Of" episode except, and this is the appealing
  part, they actually give you the damn answer, not just leave you with a
  disclaimer in the credits claiming the ideas put forward were based on
  conjecture. 
  Dark. Spot lights
  fade up on MAN 2, MAN 1, and WOMAN 1. They are in their
  traditional spots from Act I. 
  MAN 1                  Length. 
  MAN 2                  Thickness. 
  MAN 1 and MAN
  2 both look at WOMAN 1 
  WOMAN 1           [shakes head] Cleanliness. 
  Dark. Spot lights fade
  up on MAN 2 and WOMAN 1. They are in their
  traditional spots from Act I. 
  WOMAN 1           Aren't there any women you're attracted to? 
  MAN 2                  Yes. 
  WOMAN 1           Who? 
  MAN 2                  Most of them. 
  WOMAN 1           Hey
  Brigham Young, pick one. 
  MAN 2                  The woman I keep seeing at the bank. 
  WOMAN 1           A teller? 
  MAN 2                  No. A customer. We always seem to do our banking at the same
  time. Either I'm in front of her in line. Or she's in front of me in line. 
  WOMAN 1           Why don't you talk to her? 
  MAN 2                  Forget it. 
  WOMAN 1           Why
  not? Take a risk. 
  MAN 2                  At
  the risk of making a woman feel uncomfortable? 
  WOMAN 1           You're infuriating. 
  MAN 2                  Here's
  my glitch. When I see a woman in a bank line, I think she's there to do
  banking. When I see a woman in a book store, I think she's there to buy a
  book. When I see a woman in Starbucks, I think she's there to enjoy her short
  double shot half decaf half soy half skinny extra hot with light foam. In
  sum, I don't believe women leave the comfort and privacy of their home so
  they can constantly endure men picking up on them. 
  WOMAN 1           Look at it this way, if you
  don't hit on her, the next guy will. And I'm pretty certain you're a far
  nicer guy than the creep that will hit on her. 
  MAN 2                  It's
  a good, if familiar logic. What would I say to her? 
  WOMAN 1           Since you see
  her regularly, engage her in small talk that will determine if you have some
  common interests. Like, ask her what her weekend plans are or how her weekend
  went. It's a great way to determine if you have common interests. 
  MAN 2                  No
  can do. I do my banking on a Wednesday. 
  WOMAN 1           And Wednesdays are bad because? 
  MAN 2                  Because
  as far as weekend chit chat goes, it's a conversational dead zone. The
  earliest one can possibly ask a person their weekend plans without looking
  desperately lonely or insane is end-of-day Thursday. And Monday is the only
  day you can legitimately ask a person how their weekend went. If you're lucky
  enough to have missed seeing the person on Monday, Tuesday mornings are
  permissible. But Wednesday? Never on a Wednesday. 
  Dark. Spot lights
  fade up on MAN 2, MAN 1, and WOMAN 1. They are in their
  traditional spots from Act I. 
  MAN 2 and MAN
  1 have paper and pencils in front of them. They're making checks on a piece
  of paper. MAN 1 holds up his piece of
  paper and looks troubled. 
  MAN 1                  [to MAN 2] For your football picks, who do
  you like? The Buffalo Bills or the NY Jets? 
  MAN 2                  Good,
  question. Hard call. 
  MAN 1                  [to WOMAN 1] You got any ideas? 
  WOMAN 1           I don't know much about
  football. 
  MAN 1                  [to WOMAN 1] I need some beginner's
  luck. 
  WOMAN 1           [frustrated] I really don't
  know much about football. 
  MAN 1                  Just
  tell me which team you think has the cutest quarterback. I'll go with that. 
  WOMAN 1           [She does not like being talked down to, takes pick sheet from MAN 1. She considers the pick sheet for a
  moment and hands it back.] The Jets' coaching is in turmoil over the
  arrest of its head coach for soliciting prostitutes. The Bills are currently
  trying to get city council to foot the tax bill for a new stadium. While the
  TV market in upstate New York
  is a strong one for the Bills, I think everyone concerned realizes there's
  opportunity in emerging southern TV markets, possibly in an Atlanta
  edge city. So I'd count on the Bills to cover the spread for the next few
  weeks in hopes of increasing their bargaining position. 
  Stunned silence 
  MAN 2                  Wow,
  I thought you said you didn't know anything about football? 
  WOMAN 1           I don't. I just know a lot
  about political intrigue. 
  Spot lights go dark
  then fade up on MAN 2
  and WOMAN 1 
  WOMAN 1           Well that's it. My last female friend from
  university is married. I'm officially friendless. I hate this. I can never
  have a life in balance. I have the boyfriend, I have the career, but now I
  have no meaningful female friends. 
  MAN 2                  Just cause
  they're married doesn't mean you can't hang with them, right? 
  WOMAN 1           I'm afraid it means exactly
  that. They all married these lunk heads. I tried
  for a while to keep up my friendship with my best friend from university.
  We'd go out for dinner and coffee and talk about books and subtitled films.
  But when we did that after her marriage, she would always have her husband in
  tow. I guess the guy would whine if she left him home alone. When he came out
  with us, he would just sit there starring at us, his mouth's open, unable to
  add anything of substance to the conversation. When they got home, he'd start
  freaking out on her for ignoring him and she'd call me later in tears. It
  just all became too much to deal with. [pause]
  You know what's harder sometimes then finding a man? Finding a woman friend.  
  MAN 2                  I
  know. It's not that easy to find a male friend either. By a certain age
  everyone has their set of friends.  
  WOMAN 1           There are a couple women at work I wouldn't mind gal palling with but
  other than the occasional drink after work I've had no luck getting better
  acquainted. 
  MAN 2                  Would it seem rude or
  desperate to ask if they have a waiting list? "In the event of a death
  or job transfer and a space becomes available on your friends list, please
  consider me as a candidate for trips to antique shows and celebrity chef
  cookbook signings." 
  WOMAN 1           I keep thinking I should run an ad on one
  of those personals web sites advertising for a straight woman friend. 
  MAN 2                  It won't work. You'll only get men responding.  
  WOMAN 1           I figure I could put in a line
  like "ABSOLUTELY NO MEN NEED APPLY". 
  MAN 2                  [laughs like WOMAN 1 just
  claimed she was going to open a frogurt stand on
  Mars] Good luck with that.
  Any man reading that ad is going to think "Yes, but clearly she
  doesn't mean me because I have a twelve inch penis." In his mind, he's
  practically doing you a favor by responding. 
  WOMAN 1           I'm doomed. 
  MAN 2                  Not quite. I suggest a
  better alternative to "ABSOLUTELY NO MEN NEED APPLY TO THIS AD"
  would be something like: "Absolutely no men need apply to this ad. If
  you're a man and you do respond I will email you back immediately and engage
  in months of online flirting. After you've professed your total undying love
  for me and you've sent me numerous expensive gifts to my PO Box, I will
  demand you fly to a remote city to meet me and then I will not show up and
  never respond to another email of yours again. So you can waste my time now
  or I can waste the next year of your life and the greater part of your
  disposable income. Don't say I didn't warn you." 
  WOMAN 1           Think that would work? 
  MAN 2                  There's a slim chance. 
  WOMAN 1           You're noticeably single. Would
  you run an ad on the net? 
  MAN 2                  No way! 
  WOMAN 1           Never? 
  MAN 2                  Never! 
  WOMAN 1           Oh come on. 
  MAN 2                  Well, actually... 
  WOMAN 1           Yes... 
  MAN 2                  I've tried it once or
  twice. Just to see. Of course. 
  WOMAN 1           Oh, where'd you run your ad. 
  MAN 2                  Yahoo personals. 
  WOMAN 1           Yeah? 
  MAN 2                  And Match.com. 
  WOMAN 1           Right. 
  MAN 2                  Plus lavalife.com,
  kiss.com, friendfinder.com, and americansingles.com. 
  WOMAN 1           Meet anyone. 
  MAN 2                  One or two people. 
  WOMAN 1           And? 
  MAN 2                  And I
  learned there are six different kinds of people you will meet online. One,
  people you'd never meet. Two, people you'd meet if they lived down the
  street. Three, people you'd meet if they lived on the other side of the city.
  Four, people you'd meet if they lived in another city in your state. Five,
  people you'd meet if they lived in any city in North America. Six, people you'd meet if they lived any place
  in the world. 
  Spot lights go dark
  then fade up on MAN
  2, MAN 1, and WOMAN 1 
  WOMAN 1           I'm thinking
  about making that salmon dish again for Sunday dinner. 
  MAN 1                  Ah
  yes. That was an amazing dish. 
  WOMAN 1           You think so? 
  MAN 1                  Absolutely.
  Except the asparagus was a bit over cooked. 
  WOMAN 1           What do you mean over cooked? 
  MAN 1                  Your
  asparagus is mushy. 
  WOMAN 1           You know,
  I really hate when you do that. 
  MAN 1                  Do
  what? 
  MAN 2 begins to look
  increasingly uncomfortable. He begins to look around for some excuse to flee
  the scene, get away from this burgeoning lovers' quarrel. 
  WOMAN 1           You know exactly
  what you do! 
  MAN 1                  No
  I don't. If I did, I'd not ask. 
  WOMAN 1           You can never just say something good about me or what I do or what I
  like and leave it at that. You always have to add in a little nit pick.
  "It was great but..." "Fantastic except..." "The
  best ever if it hadn't been for..." 
  MAN 1                  I'm sorry. That's just
  my nature. It's got nothing to do with you. I'm like that with my friends all
  the time. [turns to MAN 2] Ain't
  that right? 
  MAN 2 draws back, puts his
  hands up to communicate "don't pull me into the middle". 
  WOMAN 1           I'm not your buddy. I'm your girlfriend.
  And a fairly new one at that. In case you're unclear, there is a difference.
  You don't place your whole sense of self into the hands of a friend. I expose
  to you every vulnerability, including my... my deformity. 
  MAN 1                  Your what? 
  WOMAN 1           Oh, please,
  don't tell me you
  haven't noticed. 
  MAN 1                  Noticed what? 
  WOMAN 1           Oh
  my god! Haven't you noticed when I fold my arms my right hand is like this. 
  WOMAN 1 demonstrates, folding her arms and covering her left
  breast with her right hand. 
  WOMAN 1           Or when I wear a purse, the
  strap always crosses over my left side. Or when I wear a shirt with double
  front pockets, I always put my sun glasses in my left pocket. 
  MAN 1                  Uh!
  Uh! 
  WOMAN 1 points directly at her tits. 
  WOMAN
  1           You can't have not
  noticed my right breast is bigger
  than my left! 
  MAN 2 makes facial
  contortions like he is definitely hearing too much information 
  MAN 1                  We're
  barely at that stage where you let me see you naked in good light! How can I
  tell that! 
  WOMAN 1           You sure feel them enough!  
  MAN 1                  When
  I touch them I'm not exactly trying to compare them by doing
  four-pie-r-squared. 
  WOMAN 1 looks at MAN 1
  with a "what the fuck are you talking about?" look. 
  MAN 2                  [Interrupts] You mean
  pie-r-r-squared-plus-h-squared-raised-to-the-power-of-point-five. 
  MAN 1                  What? 
  MAN 2                  Four-pie-r-squared
  that's how to calculate the surface area of a sphere. Wouldn't the formula to calculate the surface area of a cone be more
  appropriate? 
  Spot lights go dark
  then fade up on MAN 2
  and WOMAN 1 
  MAN 2                  I've
  been having the worst possible luck with dating. 
  WOMAN 1           How so? 
  MAN 2                  Remember
  that cute co-op I was talking about last month? 
  WOMAN 1           The one with the beard? 
  MAN 2                  Not
  her! A guy finds one woman with some excess facial hair cute and suddenly
  he's branded as a guy with a bearded woman fetish. 
  WOMAN 1           Sorry, I can only recall the
  odd ones. Like the woman who used to always email you pictures of her dog in
  different hats.  
  MAN 2                  Oh
  yeah, her. I crafted a new rule after her. Never date a woman who treats her
  dog better than you. 
  WOMAN 1           You pine over so many women, I
  have a hard time keeping track. 
  MAN 2                  I'm
  talking about the curly haired blonde. 
  WOMAN 1           Oh dear. You mean Tina. Wasn't
  she in a bad car accident? 
  MAN 2                  Actually,
  she got hit by a truck. 
  WOMAN 1           Ouch. 
  MAN 2                  Before
  her accident, I bumped into her in a Starbucks and we got to talking. We
  exchanged emails and made plans to catch a movie or something. The next
  bloody day, she got hit by the truck. 
  WOMAN 1           That is bad luck. 
  MAN 2                  It
  wasn't totally bad. I sent a little Get Well Soon ecard
  to her email address. When she got out of the hospital, she picked it up. She
  thought it was pretty cute, two bears hugging each other and holding
  balloons. She emailed me to say thanks. We got to talking and somehow we made
  plans for that coffee date. 
  WOMAN 1           Great! 
  MAN 2                  That's
  what I thought. The poor woman suffered some bad head trauma and still wanted
  to keep our date only a few weeks after being released from the hospital
  after brain surgery. 
  WOMAN 1           So what happened on this coffee
  date? 
  MAN 2                  In
  my effort to power charm her, I went a bit too far. 
  WOMAN 1           Oh? 
  MAN 2                  She
  still had all these scars from the accident. Lots of her hair was shaven away
  from surgery, half of one of her incisors was chipped away, and she had an
  eye patch.  
  WOMAN 1           Oh, lovely. 
  MAN 2                  You
  know, despite all that, I thought to myself, "she's still pretty
  cute". 
  WOMAN 1           Of course. 
  MAN 2                  Yeah
  so I asked her a bit about the accident and that's where it went wrong. 
  Stage lights go dark and then spot light an area of the stage
  to the right of the bar. 
  To the right there is a small round table with two chairs. MAN
  2 and TINA sit on either side. TINA has bandages on her head and she is
  wearing an eye patch. There are paper Starbucks coffee cups before them. 
  MAN 2                  What
  did you think of the movie? 
  TINA                    I can't believe I let
  you take me to see a slasher film! 
  MAN 2                  What?
  "Torso Versus the Axe Men"? A slasher
  film? 
  TINA                    Yes. 
  MAN 2                  It's
  a classic! The director mentored Kubrick! The ax scene in "The Shining" was a total homage to
  "Torso Versus the Axe Men"! 
  TINA                    What's classic about a
  film that continually repeats the same two scenes: woman takes her top off;
  woman gets her head cut off? 
  MAN 2                  They
  were different women. I like art films. I've seen "Das
  Boot" and "Mallrats" fourteen times. But sometimes I like to
  see a movie where I can just sit back and eat popcorn. 
  TINA                    You ate all your
  popcorn during the Pepsi ad. What were you left with? 
  MAN 2                  Ninety
  minutes of silent, non-judgmental companionship. [fumbles for some conversation, points to bandages] Any lasting
  effects from the head injury?  
  TINA                    Just some double
  vision. I'll have to wear this eye patch for a few months 
  MAN 2                  Anything else?  
  TINA                    What do you mean
  anything else?  
  MAN 2                  Like,
  you got psychic powers now? 
  TINA                    What?  
  MAN 2                  If
  I suffered a head injury the first thing I'd do is check for psychic powers.  
  TINA                    What?  
  MAN 2                  Yeah
  like can you see my future or read my thoughts?  
  TINA                    What?  
  MAN 2                  Here
  try to move this coffee cup with your mind. 
  TINA                    I'm cold. Take me
  home.  
  Stage lights go dark and then spot lights come back on WOMAN
  1 and MAN 2 in their traditional seats at
  the bar. 
  MAN 2                  She
  stopped returning my emails after that. 
  WOMAN 1           Perhaps it best you didn't get
  involved with a woman who lacks a robust sense of humor. 
  MAN 2                  I
  don't know. I was intrigued by a woman with double vision. 
  WOMAN 1           In what way? 
  MAN 2                  I
  figured she would be a cheap date. You know, you take her out for sushi,
  order her six pieces, she thinks she has 12. 
  WOMAN 1           I'm so stressed. I have to meet
  his parents tomorrow. I look horrible. 
  MAN 2                  No
  you don't. 
  WOMAN 1           Yeah, I've gained weight. 
  WOMAN 1           How much? 
  WOMAN 1           A pound, maybe two pounds by
  now. 
  MAN 2                  Yeah,
  you're really packing it on. 
  WOMAN 1           Jerk. 
  MAN 2                  Look,
  I can sit here and argue you've not gained weight and you're looking better
  today than you've ever looked before and you can sit there and argue I'm just
  saying all that to be nice. We can go back and forth like this for most of
  the night.  
  WOMAN 1           You're right. 
  MAN 2                  Whenever
  you're down about your appearance, always remember Rule Number 3A for living: You're always more attractive than
  you think you are. 
  WOMAN 1           Rule 3A? Why A? 
  MAN 2                  Because
  3A applies to women only. Rule 3B applies to men. 
  WOMAN 1           What's rule 3B? 
  MAN 2                  Rule
  3B for Living is: Dude, get over yourself already.
  You're not all that. 
  WOMAN 1           What's with men? Almost every
  guy I know has this inflated sense of self.  
  MAN 2                  I think it's because early on in a guy's dating life, he had one
  girlfriend that told him he was great in bed and he assumes forever more all
  women will come to that conclusion. 
  WOMAN 1           That's so
  hurting. What I find enjoyable in bed is not necessarily the norm. Actually I
  don't think there is a norm. There's a lot my girlfriends and I can never
  agree on. Some like men who are slow, attentive lovers. Some like men who are
  really aggressive and bend them every which way. 
  MAN 2                  Which
  do you prefer? 
  WOMAN 1           Not telling. 
  MAN 2                  See
  there's rarely any disagreement between men what we find sexy. Hence most men
  assume what one woman likes all will like. 
  WOMAN 1           One thing I've always liked
  about you is you're not very hung up on yourself. 
  MAN 2                  Yeah,
  well, it's through no fault of my own.
  The thing is, I don't feel sexy. No woman I've
  ever dated has ever told me what she found sexy about me. I think this is a
  problem endemic to women kind and maybe the root of many of your own problems
  with men. You're very good at telling us what you don't like about men. But
  you never articulate what you actually like about men. In the absence of this
  information, we're forced to conclude women like about men what we like about
  ourselves, namely our penis and our car. Possibly in that order. 
  WOMAN 1           You really don't feel sexy? 
  MAN 2                  I
  don't feel sexy enough. 
  WOMAN 1           What do you mean enough? 
  MAN 2                  I
  always assume if a woman wanted sex, there are always better, available
  candidates out there. 
  WOMAN 1           Not in my experience. 
  MAN 2                  You're
  just not really looking. It's undeniably true that your average woman can go
  into a bar and if she was bold enough, she could go up to the best looking
  man in a bar, offer him a night of no-strings sex, and there's a ninety
  percent chance he'll say yes. However, with the exception of rock stars, few
  men could ever do that. And I'm no rock star. 
  WOMAN
  1           But you've had
  women in bed. What do you think they were doing there if they didn't find you
  sexy? 
  MAN 2                  As
  best I can figure, committing acts of charity, compassion, and self
  sacrifice. 
  WOMAN 1           If I were single, I'd do you,
  and not for reasons of charity. 
  MAN 2                  Now
  you tell me! How come we never got together? 
  WOMAN 1           I didn't mean to imply that I'd
  have had casual sex with you. I just mean, you've always been boyfriend
  material. 
  MAN 2                  [Sounds a little disappointed] That's
  what I meant. Over the years I've seen you drift in and out of relationships.
  How did we always avoided hooking up? 
  WOMAN 1           You never really asked me. 
  MAN 2                  Is
  that all I had to do, was ask? 
  WOMAN 1           No. If you had come out and
  asked straight out I would have been spooked. But you know,
  we've always done friend-like things together. 
  MAN 2                  Ah,
  right. I'm in, as they say, "the friend zone". 
  WOMAN 1           I don't believe in the friend
  zone. Because I've dated guys who were friends. It's sort of nice to have
  that familiarity and security. 
  MAN 2                  So
  what do I lack? 
  WOMAN 1           Honestly? 
  MAN 2                  Yeah. 
  WOMAN 1           Magic. 
  Spot lights go dark and remain dark for longer than normal.
  They then fade up on MAN 2, MAN
  1, and WOMAN 1. 
  MAN 2                  Well, I'm going to call it a night. 
  MAN 1                  Dude,
  it's Friday. It's only 10 pm. 
  MAN 2                  I
  know. I've been finding it hard to stay up late on weekends. 
  MAN 1                  Since
  when? 
  MAN 2                  Since...
  since I don't know. It's weird how these things just creep up on you. It's
  like when did every band on the radio start sounding like Green Day? 
  MAN 1                  Yeah.
  Or when did I start seeing the adult humor in The
  Flintstones?  
  WOMAN 1           Or when did I stop bursting
  into tears after throwing up?  
  MAN 2                  When
  did I start needing coffee?  
  MAN 1                  When
  did my parents stop being able to answer all my questions to my satisfaction?
   
  WOMAN 1           When did I stop being able to
  eat two pieces of cake in a bowl of chocolate milk and whip cream and not
  gain any weight?  
  MAN 2                  When
  did I stop thinking the guy at the Sunoco station had the neatest job in the
  world?  
  MAN 1                  When
  did the cashiers at McDonald's stop looking like bosomy women and started
  looking like pimply girls?  
  WOMAN 1           When did I stop liking Toy R Us
  and started liking the housewares department at
  Sears?  
  MAN 2                  When
  did I start thinking family portraits make a nice gift?  
  MAN 1                  When
  did I start thinking that the government doesn't necessarily know the best
  way to spend my tax money?  
  WOMAN 1           When did non-matching living
  room furniture become a worry that keeps me up at night?  
  MAN 2                  When
  did I start worrying about my credit rating?  
  MAN 1                  When
  did my friends and I stop planning a social renaissance and started planning
  our retirement?  
  WOMAN 1           When did I start worrying about
  if the mustard in my fridge is past its expiry date?  
  MAN 2                  When
  did I start saying "youth is wasted on the young"?  
  MAN 1                  When
  did I start thinking of a year as January to December and not September until
  school lets out in June?  
  WOMAN 1           When did I get so grumpy?  
  MAN 2                  When
  did I grow up?  
  All nod in agreement and sigh. 
    
  end 
    
    
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