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Speed-Dating With Emotionally Unstable Lucy by B. Frayn Masters


Guy: Hey, I’m Carl.

Lucy: I’m feeling a little low right now.

Guy: I can get you a phone book or a baby booster —

Lucy: You’ve got it wrong. I am emotionally low. Like down and out.

Guy: This is the speed-dating thing, right?

Lucy: My name is Lucy and I have a cactus, a job, and basic plus cable. Not necessarily in that order.

Guy: Is the cactus single?



Guy: Cheers, I’m Basil.

Lucy: So you’re German.

Guy: Pfft. Er, I’m from London.

Lucy: Nothing.

Guy: England.

Lucy: Hey, whacka, whacka let’s put the ‘gland’ back in England.

Guy: Come again?

Lucy: I’m always above people’s heads.

Guy: Yes, well then. Aufweidersehen.


Guy: Oh, wow, this is fun! You having a good time?

Lucy: Compared to the funeral yesterday, yes!

Guy: Jesus, I’m sorry. Did I say something? Who. Died?

Lucy: Coral Wilson, she was 87.

Guy: Grandma?

Lucy: Lover.

Guy: You have a sick sense of humor lady.

Lucy: Whatever do you mean?

Guy: Well, that can’t really be true.

Lucy: So much is true that no one wants to be true.


Guy: Word on the street is that this is the black hole seat. I got a text from my man Jimbo that said you’re some kind of necro—lesbo.

Lucy: I love your shirt. What do you call that? Criss-crossy lines? Intersections of color? Boxes of interconnectedness? Catholic shame branding?

Guy: Plaid.

Lucy: There is a sadness to that.

Guy: What? No there isn’t. Plaid is cool, it’s everywhere and it’s perfectly happy.

Lucy: No, that I love your shirt so much. I’m really into it. If you’ll let me be forward with you, its stolen my heart.

Guy: So I suppose you want to have a round with just my shirt then?

Lucy: You really get me. If you’d worn a different shirt tonight then it’d be you, I swear, it’d be you I could spend the rest of my life with.

Guy: What if I told you the shirt is me and me is inhabited by a temporary setback?

Lucy: So the shirt is an externalized version of yourself that you really like a lot and you want to keep it safe.

Guy: Here, take it.

Lucy: I’m going to buy it a whiskey. It needs one.