if it was the last day of your life

[carrot_carrot]

to all the boys i've loved before a working title

[Curtain up on the inside of a bar lounge. There are small tables scattered about, with a man and woman seated at each. They chat quietly. A banner on the back wall reads TEN MINUTE DATING. After a moment, a buzzer rings. All the women stand, and say goodbyes to their ten minute dates. A few exchange phone numbers. The women proceed in a small circle to their next ten minute dates, except for ELAINE, a middle-aged woman wearing a sharp business suit and power-heels, who steps forward at center stage and begins to speak.]

ELAINE: I've divorced better men than you, and worn more expensive shoes than these, so don't think for a second that this is the biggest come-down I've ever had to make. I am not here to find love. I loved my first husband. So much so that I stuck around for five years while he beat the shit out of me every weekend. The day after he shattered all the bones in my right arm, I left him. I don't marry for love anymore. That was come-down number one. Come-down number two was husband number two. Husband number two was a good man. He was a perfect man. He did the dishes and put the toilette seat down. Separated the whites when he did laundry and always held the door open. Husband number two left me for a minister's daughter the summer after we were first married. I guess I wasn't perfect enough. My third marriage was a come-down all on its own, but I thank God for the day I realized that maybe I'm not perfect, but I deserve more than a jobless, witless, beer-drinking, balding son of a bitch for a husband. And if you think I don't, you better pray that timer rings early, because I'm going to rip you a new one. [Beat.] Now. Tell me about you.

[After a pause, the timer rings. Everyone changes dates, and this time MICHELLE, a comfortably dressed girl in her early twenties steps forward. She hesitates a moment, then begins.]

MICHELLE: Who, me? Oh no, I'm not -- oh God no. I mean! Not that there's anything wrong with speed dating! I'm just here because my friend wanted to come. Emotional support. I've got a boyfriend. Yeah, Devin's great. He's really...really great. I met him in a bookstore about two years ago. The philosophy section. He's, like, incredibly smart. He's writing this book, has been since...well, since before I met him. Devin says it's a social allegory, a critique of modern family values in today's faux-humanistic, Darwin-driven consumeristic...I don't even know. I don't understand it myself. He tried to explain it to me once, but it didn't work. He got pretty frustrated after a while. And I mean, I can understand why. It must be pretty hard having to dumb yourself down so that the rest of the world can understand. I'd get frustrated too if I was such a stuck up, condescending, bastard all the ti -- I don't mean that. I love him. I really do. He's great. Really great. Anyway, that's where he's at tonight, home writing. I wanted to go to dinner, but he wanted to stay home glued to the computer. "But baby, I'm so close to the climax, I just have to keep going," he said. Has been saying for the past six months. And for the record? He says the same thing in bed too, and it's just as annoying. [Beat.] I don't mean that. He's really great. [Pause. She shuffles awkwardly.] Um, so, you seem like a really good listener. Could I...give you my number?

[Again the timer rings. Everyone switches partners. ANNA, dressed in fashionable clothing and jewelry, steps forward. She adjusts her hair, and speaks.]

ANNA: Hey! Hi there. How are ya? Good, good. I'm Anna, thir -- twenty nine. I work right here in town, yep, I'm a secretary down at...actually, you know what? Before we start in with all of that getting-to-know-you crap, can I just say that I'm really not looking for anything serious. I mean, I'm sure you're a great guy, but I'm not interested in that whole getting married, having kids, picket fences deal. I'm too young to want to settle down right now. There'll be time for that later. There will be time to sell myself into slavery later. I mean, I know I'm not exactly young, but I've got dreams, and they don't include a family yet. I want to do things with my life. I want to travel the world and go back to school and own a sports car and you can't do that with a husband and kids. I'd have to stay home and work some boring job and drive a minivan. And that is probably the scariest thing I can think of. I know I'm going to do that someday, have a family, but it's just...when did the future change from being a promise to being a threat?