THE DATE
This is a comedy in one act, and needs to be performed with plenty of neurotic energy and pace.
Although it was originally intended as a four hander, it’s also been directed as a two hander, with the ‘Head” characters being spoken by the characters themselves, only TO the audience, like an aside that breaks the fourth wall in the process.
Best Original Play
Best Comedy
Play with Most Audience Appeal
Anglesea, Ararat Regional OAPFs
Short and Sweet selection Melbourne
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A woman in her late thirties/early forties, SARAH, walks to side of stage, and is about to open a door (to a small café), when she stops dead, panicked.
On the opposite side of the stage, (inside the café), sits a man, OLIVER, roughly the same age, at a table with two chairs. He pours a glass of water from a large jug on the table, (on which sits also a pot of salt and a small pepper shaker).
Hovvering close to both SARAH and OLIVER are their two younger versions of themselves. These are their inner critics, namely "SARAH'S HEAD" and "OLIVER'S HEAD". SARAH'S HEAD is in a total panic.
SARAH’S HEAD: What the hell did I ask him out for?
OLIVER’S HEAD: Good to be asked out by a woman for a change. I like that.
SARAH’S HEAD: I can’t believe I did that. What could he say? I’ve been hanging round his book shop for weeks! He must have guessed I liked him.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Seen her in the shop a lot. But can’t recall a single book she ever bought. Maybe she’s a browser.
SARAH’S HEAD: I mean, you are not meant to EVER ask a man out, everyone knows that. It spells certain death. Death of hope. Death of sex. You must never, ever assert your interest in a man, not before he has made it perfectly clear that he really wants you.
OLIVER’S HEAD: So it must be mutual. She must find me reasonable anyway.
SARAH’S HEAD: What will I say to him? Hi thanks for coming along. Oh God, I sound like a tonight show host..
OLIVER recognises her from inside the cafe. He puts his head down and pretends to read the menu. SARAH enters the cafe and walks up to his table..He looks up, feigning surprise.
OLIVER: Hi.
SARAH: Hi. Thanks for - good to - you're - um - (she shrugs) Hi.
OLIVER: Hi.
OLIVER'S HEAD: Cool. Stay cool..
SARAH’S HEAD: Where am I? What am I doing? AHHHHH!!!
OLIVER’S HEAD: Look busy quick.
OLIVER: I’ve just been-/
SARAH: Have you been here long?
OLIVER: About ten minutes.
She stares at the table.
SARAH’S HEAD: You’re hyperventilating. Deep breath.
OLIVER: Just enjoying the warmth.
As she sits down and peels off her coat...
SARAH: So good to get inside out of this weather.
OLIVER: Seems colder than usual for..this time of..year..
SARAH: Yes.
SARAH’S HEAD: Cliché alert!/
OLIVER'S HEAD: Cliche alert!
SARAH'S HEAD: Deep breath.
OLIVER’S HEAD: I'm being a dick! I’m being a dick!
They both pick up their menus and glance over them casually.
SARAH’S HEAD: Oh God, where to now?
OLIVER’S HEAD: Don’t panic. You can never make eye contact when you panic.
Look her in the eyes, come on..
He looks up just as she does. They smile awkwardly.
SARAH’S HEAD: What’s he looking at?
SARAH: Hope you don’t mind seafood and vegetarian..
OLIVER: No problems.
SARAH’S HEAD: What is it about the side of my head?
She nervously strokes the side of her head, where he seems to be staring.
OLIVER: Are you vegetarian?
SARAH: No.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Focus, focus. The menu../
SARAH’S HEAD: Focus, focus. The menu..
OLIVER tries to look her in the eyes again, but fails.
OLIVER: Something to drink?
SARAH’S HEAD: What is he staring at?
She puts her hair behind her ears.
SARAH: Sorry?
OLIVER: Would you like a glass of wine?
SARAH: Um, yes.
SARAH'S HEAD: Watch it.
OLIVER: Red or..?
SARAH: I think I’d like a glass of penis - pinot.
SARAH freezes. OLIVER freezes.
SARAH’S HEAD: Oh my god. What was that? Pretend it didn’t happen./
OLIVER’S HEAD: Oh my god. What was that? Pretend it didn’t happen.
Long pause.
SARAH’S HEAD: Do nothing.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Do something..
OLIVER: They don’t appear to be on the menu.
SARAH: What?
OLIVER: Pinots.
SARAH: Oh, just a red. Whatever.
OLIVER: Shall we get a bottle?
SARAH: Um…
OLIVER’S HEAD: Focus. Eyes. Focus.
SARAH’S HEAD: He keeps looking at the side of my head..
SARAH: Good idea./
SARAH’S HEAD: Bad idea.
OLIVER walks over to a counter and places the order.
SARAH’S HEAD: I’m nervous enough...(She feels the side of her head self consciously) Oh my God! It’s my grey. He’s staring at my grey hair. The bit at the side! Bloody hairdresser. (She feels her chin) And - oh no is that a HAIR on my chin? Jesus! It is! If I can just -
She manages to single out the hair and pulls it out quickly with her fingers..
SARAH'S HEAD: Got it!
…just as OLIVER returns carrying a bottle and two glasses.
OLIVER: So, what have you been doing today then?
SARAH: Spent the whole day writing.
OLIVER pours.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Great. She writes!
SARAH'S HEAD: Great. Alcohol!
OLIVER: Oh. A writer.
SARAH’S HEAD: Okay, we're away.
SARAH: Trying to write a screenplay, a sort of romantic drama about the universal dilemma of..of..
SARAH'S HEAD: I've gone blank! Of what?
SARAH: ..Just universal dilemma-ss.
OLIVER: (NODDING) I used to be a journalist for an arts magazine. A long time ago, but..
They both drink.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Oh God. I am so out of touch./
SARAH’S HEAD: Oh God. I am so out of touch.
SARAH: I only keep up with the commercial stuff nowadays, you know..
SARAH’S HEAD: Did I say that?
OLIVER: So you write, for a living?
SARAH: Part time, you know..
They both drink.
SARAH’S HEAD: For Christ’s sakes! Talk yourself up you idiot!
SARAH: Did some work for Blue Heelers last year.
SARAH’S HEAD: What are you saying!?
OLIVER: Blue Heelers?
SARAH: Just a weekly police soapie thing..
OLIVER: Oh. I don’t have a television so..
SARAH’S HEAD: Phew..
OLIVER’S HEAD: I sound like a freak.
SARAH: So. You really love books?
They both drink again.
SARAH’S HEAD: Give me strength! He owns a bloody bookshop!
OLIVER: Well, most books. The only books I won't stock is that new age crap.
SARAH’S face goes blank.
OLIVER: I can’t bear their simplistic attitude to everything. It’s so banal.
OLIVER’S HEAD: She's bored! She's bored! Amusing, be amusing.
OLIVER: I mean, did you know there's something now called reflexology, based on the belief that the whole of the body can be healed through the feet?
SARAH: I’m a reflexologist actually.
Long Beat.
OLIVER: What?/
OLIVER'S HEAD: What?
SARAH: I practise reflexology. I…massage feet.
OLIVER: Really?
SARAH'S HEAD: What'd you tell him that for?
SARAH: Reflexology isn't new age. It actually originated in ancient Egypt.
OLIVER: Well.. I ..should book in sometime...
They both take another drink as...
SARAH’S HEAD: So now I’m a new age walking cliche.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Right. Dead end. U-turn. Quick.
OLIVER: So!/
SARAH: So!
OLIVER: Sorry! You go./
SARAH: Sorry! You go./
OLIVER: No. You go.
SARAH’S HEAD: Just GO!/
OLIVER’S HEAD: Just GO!
SARAH: So, have you always run a bookshop?
OLIVER: No. I got married-
SARAH: Right...
SARAH'S HEAD: AAAAAH!
OLIVER: about twelve years ago..
SARAH’S HEAD: AAAAAHHHH!
OLIVER: ..and we moved to Sydney, where I worked in sales and marketing for a publishing company..
SARAH’S HEAD: Don’t react..
She nods coolly, and has another drink.
OLIVER: .. then gradually worked my way up to managing director..
SARAH’S HEAD: Stay calm.
OLIVER: ..but it started to get very large and impersonal, you know, the way bookshops and publishers have become lately..
SARAH’S HEAD: Keep nodding. Just relax..
OLIVER: ..so I changed to another smaller international firm, and ran it for a while. I’d sometimes do ten hours work in Paris, fly to Hamburg for another fourteen, then do twenty four hours straight back in Sydney before a half day break. I think, looking back, I was a workaholic.
SARAH nods sympathetically, and takes another drink.
SARAH’S HEAD: No kidding?
OLIVER’S HEAD: That was all bullshit!
SARAH'S HEAD: Okay, here goes.
SARAH: So, you still married or..?
OLIVER’S HEAD: Okay, here goes.
OLIVER: No. She left me the day I resigned. For another man. It was my birthday.
SARAH: Oh how awful.
SARAH’S HEAD: PHEW! (or could sing “Allelujiah!”)
OLIVER: Suddenly I was out of a job, out of a place to live, and...
OLIVER'S HEAD: Okay, that's enough.
SARAH: How did you cope?
OLIVER'S HEAD: Coped fine. You coped fine.
OLIVER: Well, I was pretty low for a while. I went through a phase of thinking, what the hell. I’ve had an okay life. I could just…you know, what’s the point?
OLIVER'S HEAD: Oh please no....
SARAH: Did you get help?
OLIVER: (shaking head) I just felt very betrayed. I think my problem is I believe people are intrinsically good at heart.
OLIVER'S HEAD: Give me strength!
SARAH: I’m probably the other way round. I find some perverse comfort in always seeking out their faults. My therapist told me that.
OLIVER: I don't believe in therapy.
They drink again
SARAH'S HEAD: Great./
OLIVER'S HEAD: Great.
SARAH'S HEAD: Lighten up you moron.
SARAH: I always say a salmon's as good as a therapist anyway.
OLIVER'S HEAD: Sorry?
OLIVER: Sorry?
SARAH'S HEAD: Sorry?
SARAH: Good brain food. Salmon.
OLIVER: Really?
SARAH: It’s actually listed in this book I’ve got called “Natural Prozac”. It’s a natural anti depressant.
SARAH’S HEAD: Oh not anti depressants??
OLIVER’S HEAD: Now she thinks I’m a depressive.
SARAH: Not that I'm/
OLIVER: I’m not /
SARAH and OLIVER: - a depressive. (PAUSE) Either.
Pause.
SARAH and OLIVER: I didn’t -
OLIVER: - think you/
SARAH: - you / were.
They both do a little nervous laugh.
SARAH: Actually I did go through a bad patch.
SARAH’S HEAD: OH NO!
SARAH: I very nearly married someone, but pulled out the day before..It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
OLIVER nods empathetically, and has a drink.
OLIVER’S HEAD: What a bitch!
SARAH: We were really at the end of the relationship, not the beginning, you know? Plus he didn't want kids. And I did....I just knew if I married him I’d resent it so much.
OLIVER: Terrible thing for a relationship, resentment.
SARAH: Yeah. So, for a while, you know, I did the whole therapy thing. You know, Freud, Jung…Louise H - (pausing nervously)..Hay..
SARAH'S HEAD now imitates putting a gun to her head and firing.
OLIVER: (nodding wisely) Right.
OLIVER'S HEAD: Louise Who?
SARAH: And took, you know, medication. It helped.
SARAH'S HEAD: AAAAHHH!
They drink.
SARAH'S HEAD: Now he thinks I’m a neurotic drug addicted sociopath.
OLIVER: This wine's going down well.
They look at eachother and smile.
OLIVER'S HEAD: She's a bit out there, but…I like her.
He's enjoying the moment. She's still anxious to impress.
SARAH’S HEAD: He doesn’t like me.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Smile…
SARAH’S HEAD: Smile back….
OLIVER’S HEAD: Nice and easy…totally relaxed…/
SARAH’S HEAD: Nice and easy…totally relaxed…
OLIVER takes another drink of wine, as SARAH struggles for another subject.
OLIVER’S HEAD: No rush.
SARAH’S HEAD: Be funny. Quick!
SARAH: I have a confession to make. When I first met you, I thought you were gay.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Don’t react.
OLIVER: Really?
OLIVER’S HEAD: Really??
SARAH: I mean, no offense. It’s just that you’re so - open and friendly. Most men, straight men - aren’t so relaxed with women..
OLIVER: A lot of women think I’m gay when they first meet me.
He drinks. She drinks.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Note I said first meet me. It doesn’t take long, believe me, for them to change their minds...
SARAH: I hope you don’t take offence to that?
OLIVER: God no.
OLIVER’S HEAD: You’re not unlike k.d.lang yourself..
SARAH’S HEAD: Too familiar. I’m being too familiar. Reassure him.
SARAH: So, do you have any children?
OLIVER: No. We did try for a while, towards the end, you know, thought it might bring us closer.
SARAH: Try. Such a funny word for having sex. Sort of like grit your teeth and bear it, you know.
OLIVER: Yes.
SARAH'S HEAD: Shut up.
SARAH: Quick, I’m ovulating, it’s now or never. Come on, rise to the occasion, quick, to the bedroom…heh..
SARAH’S HEAD: Shut up. Just shut up.
He nods slowly. She is embarrassed. She takes another drink.
OLIVER: Anyway..It .. never happened.
SARAH’S HEAD: What a give away. He'll know for sure it's been three years.
OLIVER: It was my problem actually.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Now she’ll assume /I’m impotent./
SARAH’S HEAD: He’s impotent.
OLIVER: It’s genetic.
SARAH: Oh?
OLIVER: I've got slow..
OLIVER’S HEAD: Never say sperm on a first date.
He begins to gesture a swimming motion with his hands, finally becoming embarrassed. She is baffled.
SARAH’S HEAD (incredulous): He's not imitating…?
SARAH (HELPFULLY): Sperm?
OLIVER nods, embarrassed beyond words.
SARAH: Oh well. Better than having gay sperm..It sees ovaries and spins out, you know, turns around and head off in the opposite direction..
SARAH laughs falsely, picks up the bottle of red, and fills her glass.
SARAH’S HEAD: Oh God. I am dying here.
OLIVER: My cousin had slow -
She nods encouragingly. He takes a deep breath..
SARAH’S HEAD: Oh God not again..
OLIVER'S HEAD: For fuck's sake say it.
OLIVER: -sperm, but still managed to have five children.
SARAH (TRYING TO BE JOLLY): Not slow enough by the sounds of it.
He doesn't laugh, but has another drink. An awkward pause between them as…
SARAH'S HEAD: Twit.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Idiot.
SARAH’S HEAD: Moron.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Halfwit.
SARAH: Are you a close family or..?
OLIVER: It was what they now call dysfunctional. (OLIVER'S HEAD now imitates shooting himself in the head) My parents had a very abusive relationship.. So, no.
SARAH: I’ve read that people who are infertile are often scared of repeating their parent’s mistakes, you know. So subconsciously they protect themselves and any prospective children they might have - by - making themselves…infertile..
Both of them take a long drink from their glasses.
SARAH’S HEAD: What a load of horse shit./
OLIVER’S HEAD: What a load of horse shit.
OLIVER: So you never had children?
SARAH: No. All my sisters do though..so..I’m the.. you know, spinster aunt... (Looking at his empty wine glass) Oh. Here, let me..(She picks up the wine bottle) Never thought I’d end up alone, you know. Well you don’t do you?
OLIVER: No.
SARAH’S HEAD: Oh go on then.. Do your old line.
She clumsily begins to top up his wine glass.
SARAH: I love children. I really do. I just never got round to – them – I really am like that joke, you know, the one with the woman holding her hands to her face, saying “Oh my God! I forgot to have children!”
She laughs nervously, and pours too fast, causing the glass of red wine to tip up and fall straight into his lap.
SARAH: Oh - I am so sorry! Are you alright?
He stands up. The crutch of his trousers are covered in red wine.
SARAH: Oh God!
SARAH'S HEAD: Oh God!
OLIVER'S HEAD: Oh God!
OLIVER: It’s nothing....
SARAH: I am so, so sorry!
SARAH'S HEAD: (calmly) Salt.
Panicking, SARAH picks up the pot of salt from the table and begins to throw it at the stain on his trousers.
OLIVER’S HEAD: What is she doing?
SARAH: Salt! Soaks it all up.
OLIVER does a sort of pelvic thrust, in an effort to assist her aim.
OLIVER'S HEAD: What am I doing??
SARAH looks around, still panicking, as he tries to gather his dignity.
OLIVER: It’s fine. Really..
SARAH: And water! Water!
She thrusts a table napkin into a jug of water and begins to wipe at his crutch clumsily.
OLIVER’S HEAD: Bloody hell!
OLIVER: Really..Please...! I’m fine.
SARAH'S HEAD: Calm down! You're getting hysterical./
OLIVER'S HEAD: Calm down! You're getting hysterical.
She looks at his crutch, picks up the jug of water, and deftly tips it down his trousers. Oliver stands before her, now soaking wet.
SARAH'S HEAD: Oh.- My.- God./
OLIVER'S HEAD: Oh. - My. - God.
OLIVER takes her hand in his and gently pushes her away from him.
OLIVER: I think perhaps I should go home and change.
SARAH: My place is just round the corner...
SARAH'S HEAD: No! /
OLIVER'S HEAD: No! /
OLIVER: No. Really. I’m fine.
She pulls out some money.
SARAH: Here - for the wine.
OLIVER: No really, please...
SARAH: Well. Thank you. And - (indicating his crutch) - sorry.
OLIVER: No problem. Sorry. No. Really. It's fine.
An awkward pause.
OLIVER: Well, I might get going. Um. Good to -
Suddenly he lunges forward to kiss her on the cheek. Taken by surprise, she leans away from him, then suddenly leans forward to compensate…just as he leans back in embarrassment. No one manages to kiss anyone.
SARAH’S HEAD: Oh God. I’ve blown it./
OLIVER'S HEAD: Oh God. I've blown it.
OLIVER: It’s been great. Really. I’ve got your number, so..I’ll be in touch.
SARAH: Great. That'd be good.
He walks to the side of the stage and turns to look back at her. They smile tensely, then turn away from eachother..
OLIVER'S HEAD: Liar!/
SARAH’S HEAD: Liar!
Fade lights to black.
