SIEGFRIED: So… do you think he knows?

DWIGHT: Do I think who knows what?

SIEGFRIED: Kenny.

DWIGHT: More, please.

SIEGFRIED: Well, I mean… he’s gay, right?

DWIGHT: Is he?

SIEGFRIED: Are you serious? I mean, you’ve seen him, right? This is Kenny we’re talking about.

DWIGHT: Has he talked to you about this?

SIEGFRIED: Well, everyone’s talked about it.

DWIGHT: Has he, though?

SIEGFRIED: Look, he’s gonna deny it, OK?

DWIGHT: Because it would make him unpopular?

SIEGFRIED: Uh, yeah. This is the South.

DWIGHT: So.. what if he actually isn’t?

SIEGFRIED: What do you mean? If he’s not gay?

DWIGHT: If he’s not gay, should he say that he is?

SIEGFRIED: Why would he do that?

DWIGHT: Well, you seem to think if he is gay, he’ll say he isn’t, but what if he really isn’t? How would we know? How could we be sure?

SIEGFRIED: He is, though.

DWIGHT: How do you know? When they say that being gay is not a choice, that doesn’t mean that we all get together as a group to decide who’s gay and who isn’t.

SIEGFRIED: No, but I mean…

DWIGHT: What does it matter to you, anyway?

SIEGFRIED: It doesn’t.

DWIGHT: …

SIEGFRIED: I’m just saying, you know…

DWIGHT: And if he is gay, how would he “not know”?

SIEGFRIED: Well, you know, he could still be struggling. With himself. Trying to… decide?

DWIGHT: But you’ve already made the decision for him, so… Let me ask you this, what if he “decides” the other way? Is that something he can do?

SIEGFRIED: But why would he?

DWIGHT: You said yourself how unpopular he’d be if he “decided” to be gay.

SIEGFRIED: But he is gay!

DWIGHT: That’s not for you to decide! Look, there’s every chance in the world that you are right about Kenny, but whether or not he is, it’s not really any of our business, is it? Now if he is, and he tells us, that’s fine, but I, for one, am straight, so his orientation really doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.

SIEGFRIED: I’m just… concerned. ‘Cause, I mean… shouldn’t he know?

DWIGHT: I’m sure he does. And I hope one day he’ll consider us good enough friends to tell us. But until then, well…

SIEGFRIED: It’s none of our business. OK.

ERICA: You’re kidding, right.

MARTIN: No. No, sadly, I’m not.

ERICA: But you’re like, hot. How could you not–

MARTIN: I don’t know. Just hasn’t happened yet.

ERICA: Are you gay? Well, are you?

MARTIN: I have a girlfriend. She’s still in high school.

ERICA: Well, you are a freshman… so I guess…

MARTIN: A Catholic high school. For girls.

ERICA: And you’re still not getting laid? Sorry, must be thinking of a different kind of Catholic schoolgirl.

MARTIN: I mean, we talked about it. The sex thing. We even… well… we kind of sexted a little bit one time.

ERICA: Oh, you bad, bad boy. Did you go to confession afterwards?

MARTIN: Hey, she’s the one who’s Catholic! Actually, not even her, it’s her parents who are Catholic.

ERICA: If she’s not Catholic, why hasn’t she fucked you for real?

MARTIN: Well… I mean, she is still in high school. And she’s only seventeen.

ERICA: So? North Carolina’s sex-age is sixteen, as long as you’re not more than four years older.

MARTIN: It’s three, actually.

ERICA: Three?

MARTIN: My mom’s a paralegal.

ERICA: Oh. Well, moving on. Look, the point is… it’s three years, really?

MARTIN: Yeah.

ERICA: Huh. But that still doesn’t explain why you haven’t fucked her! Huh?

MARTIN: I lied.

ERICA: So you’re not a virgin?

MARTIN: Oh, no, I’m… I mean I never had sex.

ERICA: So what’d you lie about? Is she not really your girlfriend?

MARTIN: Well… she was…

ERICA: Aw. Poor thing.

MARTIN: Now she’s kind of a lesbian.

ERICA: And she’s at a Catholic girls’ school?

MARTIN: Yeah.

ERICA: It’ll pass. So that means you don’t have a girlfriend who’s a Catholic school lesbian?

MARTIN: No.

ERICA: Then why the fuck are you still a virgin?

MARTIN: Ow.

ERICA: You are gay, aren’t you? Hot, nice 18-year-old virgin? You’re totally gay.

MARTIN: Why the hell does everyone keep thinking that?

ERICA: Come on, honey. How many Musicals have you been in?

MARTIN: I do them so that I can meet girls!

ERICA: And how’s that working out for you?

MARTIN: They keep casting me as the bad guy…

ERICA: And you still can’t get laid?

MARTIN: I just haven’t found the right girl yet.

ERICA: OK, now I know you’re gay.

MARTIN: It’s gay for a guy to want to find a girl and settle down in a nice heterosexual relationship?

ERICA: Yeah! Especially an 18-year-old virgin! At 18, you’re supposed to play the field, sow your seeds, boy. If you happen to find a girl willing to put out more than once for you, you might have a relationship, but that’s not “love”. If you’re looking for a girl to take you off the menu, you’re not looking for a girlfriend, you’re looking for a beard.

MARTIN: Wow. That is the saddest thing I have ever heard anyone say. You’ve never had a real boyfriend, have you?

ERICA: I’ve had lots of boyfriends–

MARTIN: Have you? Or have you had guys who took advantage of you?

ERICA: Isn’t that kind of the definition of a boyfriend?

MARTIN: No. It’s not.

ERICA: It’s okay. It’s not like they’re doing it against my will. I want them to take advantage of me. The real question now is, do you want to take advantage of me?

MARTIN: You know, if it’s not against your will, it’s not really the same as taking advantage of you.

ERICA: Then don’t think of it as not being against my will.

MARTIN: I think there are too many negatives going around here–

ERICA: Well, then why don’t you think positive?

MARTIN: …

ERICA: Wow. No wonder you’re still a virgin, I am–could I be any more throwing myself at you?

MARTIN: It’s just, I don’t know, are you doing this because you’re trying to prove a point?

ERICA: Or maybe I’m trying to get to the point… Do you want me? Huh? Don’t you want me? Oh. Oh, there we go. Maybe you’re not gay after all.

MARTIN: Maybe not.

DOUGLASS: Hey! Hey, you! Yeah, you! Girl, where you goin’ so fast?

LAURA: I… nowhere?

DOUGLASS: Shit, girl don’t even know how to lie right.

LAURA: I’m going home, all right? I’m going home.

DOUGLASS: Hold on, was that a hesitation? Shit, you really think I’m gonna try something, don’t you?

LAURA: I don’t know–

DOUGLASS: Man, I been sitting here twenty minutes, waiting on this damn bus to get here, and every white girl, and every white boy that’s passed me by, look at this, this is what they do, they come up here, and they see me sitting here in the bus stop and they walk–look at this!–they walk outside, off the sidewalk, out into the street ‘cause of the damn black man sitting in the bus stop. ‘Cause everybody knows, if there’s a black man sitting in a bus stop, you best watch the fuck out.

LAURA: OK, can I say something?

DOUGLASS: Girl, you want something said, say it to the newspaper–they’ll listen to you!

LAURA: What do you want from me? Huh? You want me to smile? Why? Because that’s how we do it here in the South? Trinity’s Field is not that small of a town, I’m sorry, I don’t know you, I don’t have to smile, so I don’t, and you know why?

DOUGLASS: Oh, I know why.

LAURA: Oh, you do?

DOUGLASS: Yeah, I know why.

LAURA: I don’t think you do. Is it because you’re black?

DOUGLASS: Yeah, it’s ‘cause I’m black!

LAURA: It’s not because you’re black.

DOUGLASS: Oh, it’s not?

LAURA: It’s because you’re male.

DOUGLASS: … Nuh-uhn.

LAURA: Oh, it’s not?

DOUGLASS: Nuh-uhn, I know you white girls–

LAURA: Oh, you do?

DOUGLASS: Yes, I do! Yes, I do, Miss America, conquered the damn world!

LAURA: Oh, I conquered the world?

DOUGLASS: If I was white, if I was a white dude, man, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

LAURA: I love how you know me better than I know myself, that’s, really, that’s so rare to find in a person.

DOUGLASS: If I was white, you’d already be on me, girl. Why can’t you just admit it?

LAURA: See, that right there. That right there is why I didn’t make eye contact. That, right there, is why I wanted to make it perfectly clear to you that I did not want to strike up any kind of conversation, but I guess it’s both our lucky days, because guess what? I’m on my period and I am not taking this bullshit from any man today, black, white or motherfucking purple.

DOUGLASS: See, why you gotta bring the period thing into it?

LAURA: Because apparently, that’s the only way to get across to you men that I don’t want to have sex with you! That sex is not something that I’m always thinking about. Be honest here. Are you always thinking about sex? I see you hesitating, because you think it’s a trick question, but it’s really not. Are you thinking about sex when you’re taking a dump?

DOUGLASS: Ew! What? That’s nasty!

LAURA: I bet you’re not thinking about blowjobs when you’re eating a banana, either!

DOUGLASS: Ooh! Damn, you went there!

LAURA: Oh, I’m gonna fucking go there. Shove your dick in my face one more time, I will bite it clean off. Even if I choke on it!

DOUGLASS: Dayum!

LAURA: That’s right.

DOUGLASS: Still a fucking racist, though.

LAURA: Jesus fuck!

DOUGLASS: No, you ain’t gonna tell me that shit’s not some micro-aggression crap. You see me, a big black man, and what is the first thing you assume? You assume I’m gonna shove my motherfucking dick in your face–you said it!

LAURA: You were the one who brought up sex!

DOUGLASS: Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah–

LAURA: You were the one who said that if you were white, I would fuck you. And that is not true. That is fucking misogynist slander.

DOUGLASS: For real?

LAURA: Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean that I want to fuck you. It doesn’t even mean that I want to fuck! That’s why I didn’t look at you!

DOUGLASS: Oh, you didn’t look at me, because you thought I might rape you?

LAURA: That, sadly enough, is always a possibility.

DOUGLASS: You got pepper-spray on you? Mace? Rape-whistle?

LAURA: Why the fuck would you ask me that?

DOUGLASS: Hey, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. Hey–whoa!

LAURA: Back the fuck off. If a woman avoids you on the street, it is not okay to come after her like this.

DOUGLASS: I’m sorry, ma’am, I apologize.

LAURA: Demanding that someone smile, accosting them when they don’t want to talk to you, that is street harassment, and it. Is. Not. Okay. OK?

DOUGLASS: I just wanted someone to talk to me. Not even that, man, I just wanted someone to acknowledge that I am a person. A person. Not… not some threat, not some walking… bomb. A rabid dog.

LAURA: I’m sorry I pulled my pepper-spray on you.

DOUGLASS: I’m sorry I–

LAURA: Hold on, I’m not sorry for pulling my pepper-spray–you were being fucking creepy!

DOUGLASS: Here we go again.

LAURA: Look, I’m not saying you’re a creep. Chances are, you’re a really nice guy. But the risk, if you’re not? It’s too much. And what the FUCK were you thinking, asking me if I have pepper-spray on me?

DOUGLASS: You obviously thought I was a threat!

LAURA: You are a threat! You’re a man, and I don’t know you! And I’m not going to apologize for committing a microaggression–which, by the way, sounds like about the whitest thing either of us has said in this entire conversation–

DOUGLASS: You were the one who threatened me–

LAURA: You have been threatening me since the minute you called out to me, and the fact that you don’t know that… I’m not sorry. You can go ahead and think whatever horrible, “racist” or whatever label you want to put on me, that’s fine. That’s fine. ‘Cause I’m labeling you, too.

DOUGLASS: I’m sorry. All right? I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.

LAURA: “Uncomfortable” isn’t the same thing as “threatened”. So I guess maybe I should apologize, too. I’m sorry for overreacting.

DOUGLASS: Nah, it’s cool.

LAURA: We cool?

DOUGLASS: Yeah. Yeah, we cool.

LAURA: Can I go now?

DOUGLASS: Oh, you wanna go?

LAURA: Yeah, do I–do I have your permission?

DOUGLASS: Oh, you want my permission, now? Wow! Aw, white girl think she needs my permission! Snap, y’all.

LAURA: Don’t make me mace you.

CHARLIE: Yes… yes… Yeees! YES! Woo-hoo! High five, man!

JORDAN: Oh. Wow. OK.

CHARLIE: Aw, man, that was a hell of a play.

JORDAN: Oh, it’s a play? I thought it was a game you were watching.

CHARLIE: That’s what I—you’re real funny, you know that?

JORDAN: What game is this again?

CHARLIE: Wh—what game? Are… are you serious?

JORDAN: I mean, I can see that there’s some Sportsball happening, but I don’t know which—

CHARLIE: Football. It’s called football.

JORDAN: Oh! Oh, right! Right. OK. But, liek… why do they keep holding the ball in their hands and running with it? Isn’t that the one where they’re supposed to be kicking?

CHARLIE: No, that’s soccer!

JORDAN: But they always wear shoes.

CHARLIE: What?

JORDAN: How can it be “socker” if they’re not all running around in their socks?

CHARLIE: I don’t know—

JORDAN: I just don’t understand how this one could be “football” when it’s the other one where they’re not supposed to use their hands.

CHARLIE: Are you serious?

JORDAN: What are the rules, anyway?

CHARLIE: You don’t know the rules to football?

JORDAN: I’m not what you’d call a “guys’ guy”.

CHARLIE: OK, um… well… so you’re trying to score points, right?

JORDAN: OK.

CHARLIE: So you score points by getting the ball back behind the goalpost line.

JORDAN: That’s why they’re always piled up on top of each other?

CHARLIE: Right.

JORDAN: So then you get the ball behind the line, you get a point.

CHARLIE: You get seven points, actually.

JORDAN: Oh! Oh, wow. OK. So can I just, um, I just need to ask.

CHARLIE: Ask away.

JORDAN: If the goal is just to score points…

CHARLIE: Yeah?

JORDAN: Why don’t the two teams work together? I mean, think about it. If you just take turns—look, the ball has to go behind the line, right? There’s only one, you have to treat it as a scarce resource. You both need the ball, why not just share? Right? So I take the ball behind my line—

CHARLIE: You’re not gonna take the ball behind your own line!

JORDAN: Why not?

CHARLIE: ‘Cause then you score for the other team!

JORDAN: So? I bring the ball behind my line to score for them, then I give the ball to them so they can score for me, and we all go out and have drinks together and get laid and stuff.

CHARLIE: But then what’s the point?

JORDAN: THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!

CHARLIE: No, but like, who wins?

JORDAN: Everybody!

CHARLIE: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, that’s not the point.

JORDAN: You’re right, it’s seven points, every time, isn’t it!

CHARLIE: No, look—the point is not to score points. The point is to score more points than the other team.

JORDAN: … Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooh…

CHARLIE: Seriously, are you, like, an alien?

JORDAN: Sometimes I wonder.

JORDAN: So, do you ever think that, like, that this, what we got going on here, that this is maybe a bit… you know…

MALLORY: You know I’m gay, right?

JORDAN: No, I know! I know. No, trust me, I know, that’s not what I—no, I mean, like…

MALLORY: Just say it, white boy.

JORDAN: You ever think that, like, maybe our friendship is kind of a joke?

MALLORY: No. But I’m flattered you think so.

JORDAN: No, that’s not what I—dammit. No. Sorry, I’m getting all messed up.

MALLORY: Take your time.

JORDAN: No, what I meant was, it kind of sounds like the set-up for, like, a really bad, like, really offensive joke. You know? I don’t know, maybe I’m just—I don’t know.

MALLORY: Who’s the third person?

JORDAN: Third what now?

MALLORY: If it’s a joke, doesn’t there have to be three? I count one BAMF of a black lesbian, one pasty-white nerd, who’s the third one?

JORDAN: Asian… tr—I don’t know. I don’t know if it works that way.

MALLORY: Not convinced it works at all. What’s the joke?

JORDAN: I don’t know yet. Gimme a second.

MALLORY: … Second’s up.

JORDAN: It’s gotta be about privilege, right? I mean, that’s the joke.

MALLORY: She rich?

JORDAN: Who?

MALLORY: Black lesbian. She rich?

JORDAN: Are you rich?

MALLORY: Shit, no, you seen my apartment.

JORDAN: I’ve also seen your car.

MALLORY: Shit—you don’t know cars, white boy.

JORDAN: That is, in fact, the Gods’ Honest Truth. Although I don’t know what that has to do with me being white, or a boy.

MALLORY: Are you rich?

JORDAN: … I mean, maybe? I guess?

MALLORY: I’m just thinking you want some kinda irony, you know? You want the joke to have a point to it.

JORDAN: That’s true. Right, and because we’re the ones writing the joke—

MALLORY: I ain’t writing no joke.

JORDAN: Well, since I’m the one writing the joke, I guess I want to be… “woke”.

MALLORY: You a poet, son, and you goddamn know it.

JORDAN: I swear, that just happened on its own.

MALLORY: Jordan? Here’s my arm. Bite me.

JORDAN: OK, but after I’ve bitten you… What if it’s all based on preconceptions?

MALLORY: Ya think?

JORDAN: No, but like—I mean, yeah, okay, but like, OK… So black lesbian walks into a bar and you think that…

MALLORY: What?

JORDAN: I don’t even know. What do people think when they see a black lesbian walk into a bar?

MALLORY: What do white people think? Or what do guys think?

JORDAN: Touché. (Waay too ché.) OK, so I gotta think audience.

MALLORY: You gotta?

JORDAN: I gotst’a (sp?).

MALLORY: Why are we still talking about this?

JORDAN: ‘Cause I’m on a roll here.

MALLORY: What you doin’ on a roll? Get off that shit, that could be somebody breakfast!

JORDAN: Was that a fucking pun? I adore you.

MALLORY: That is the gayest thing you have said to me in like half an hour.

JORDAN: So a straight white guy and a black lesbian walk into a bar.

MALLORY: Oh, God.

JORDAN: Bartender says “What’ll it be?”

MALLORY: M-hm.

JORDAN: White boy say “I’ll have what she’s having.”

MALLORY: And?

JORDAN: What’s she having?

MALLORY: His testicles in a glass?

JORDAN: … No, you can’t make a guy eat his own testicles, that would be weird.

MALLORY: Why is he having what she’s having?

JORDAN: I figure that it’s ‘cause he knows that she is a lot tougher than he is and could totally kick his ass, so he’s, like, wanting to, like, “man up”. Or woman up. Or something. Which is why I’m thinking that maybe, like, the funniest thing for her to do would be to, maybe, like, I don’t know, order just water or something? You know, ‘cause she, like, he’s doing everything for appearances. But she’s, like, huh, pshaw.

MALLORY: No black woman has ever said that word.

JORDAN: What word?

MALLORY:…

JORDAN: I mean, not literally. Do you get it, though?

MALLORY: No, I see what you did there. It’s not funny, but I see what you did.

JORDAN: Pshaw.

DARRYL: So this is a nice place.

CAITLIN: Yeah, I like the atmosphere.

DARRYL: Not too much argon…

CAITLIN: CO2 balance is just right.

DARRYL: Right?

CAITLIN: You are such a dork. I mean that in the best possible way.

DARRYL: No, I get that. Can I ask you something?

CAITLIN: Sure.

DARRYL: Why’d you ask me out?

CAITLIN: You mean, why did I get you to ask me out?

DARRYL: Semantics.

CAITLIN: Cute guy at a bookstore. What’s not to like?

DARRYL: You’re at that bookstore all the time, though. Was it the selection? It was, wasn’t it? Medieval Persian Romances really get you going, don’t they?

CAITLIN: How do you know I don’t ask out every guy who comes in there?

DARRYL: That sounds exhausting.

CAITLIN: You wanna know what it is?

DARRYL: I think I do, yeah. That’s why I’m bracing myself. I promise that’s the reason.

CAITLIN: You’re dorky. And cute. Kind of a combination. Turnabout’s fair play, though. Why’d you ask me out?

DARRYL: Because you tricked me into it.

CAITLIN: I’m not that good at tricking.

DARRYL: When a beautiful woman wants you to ask her out—

CAITLIN: Oh, I’m beautiful? Is that it? That’s the reason?

DARRYL: Are you really insulted to be called beautiful?

CAITLIN: Just seems kinda shallow.

DARRYL: You’re assuming “beautiful” was the operative word.

CAITLIN: Well, then what was the operative word?

DARRYL: “Wants”. I’m not good at flirting. I’m not good at signals, and I am definitely not good at dating—

CAITLIN: You’re not as bad as you think you are.

DARRYL: My point is, it means a lot to know going into it that… that I have a shot. You know? That I’m not gonna be shot down.

CAITLIN: Why would I shoot you down?

DARRYL: That’s my point, though. You made it very easy.

CAITLIN: Oh, so I’m “easy”, now?

DARRYL: No, come on.

CAITLIN: Isn’t that what you just said?

DARRYL: No, it’s not, actually. I’m not saying you are easy, that would imply you wore an easy mark for a predator—you think I’m a predator?

CAITLIN: That’s not what it—well, yeah, OK.

DARRYL: No, I’m saying you were easy on me. You liked me and you made that clear. I appreciated that. You didn’t play games.

CAITLIN: I still wanted you to make the first move.

DARRYL: And you think I did?

CAITLIN: Well… I don’t know. What counts as a move?

DARRYL: See, that’s what I’m saying.

CAITLIN: So it wasn’t my mind, then? It wasn’t my taste in literature?

DARRYL: Well, see, here’s the thing. Anything that I admired about you, from the shallow really liking your hair and your eyes and your smile and the way you turn on your heel after you put a book on the shelf, to the way you like Fiona Dugnot and keep up on my R.A. Kessler references, all of that, those are things that would have made me like you, but that’s not what you asked. Because none of that would have actually given me the confidence to ask you out. I asked you out ‘cause you wanted me to.

CAITLIN: So… and I don’t like using this term ‘cause I don’t like it, but… you would have let me “friend-zone” you?

DARRYL: Yeah, I don’t like that term, either. I would have let you flirt with me. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to take it past that.

CAITLIN: Guys are supposed to make the first move, though.

DARRYL: Why?

CAITLIN: …

DARRYL: It doesn’t make sense, does it? It puts the pressure in all the wrong places. If you want a guy and you ask him out, what are the chances he’ll think you’re a creep? Hell, what are the chances he’ll even say no?

CAITLIN: If we all started doing it that way, though, how long woudl it take for the standards to flip? How long before guys start thinking of girls as creepy?

DARRYL: Two things: first of all, men are typically—typically, mind you—physically stronger than women, and therefore better able to fight them off. That’s not to say that women can’t be creepy, still, but if we’re playing by the numbers? Second, though, you kinda gotta ask yourself, who stands to lose more by having sex? I mean, on the one hand, there’s the social aspect of stigma against sexually active women, and I’m not saying we’re over that, but I think we can agree that it’s mortifyingly old-fashioned.

CAITLIN: Of course.

DARRYL: But from a purely biological perspective, men just don’t get pregnant. So if women have the agency, if women are the ones making the first move, what’s a guy gonna do? Guys are a lot less likely to say no.

CAITLIN: You realize you’re a guy, right?

DARRYL: Last time I checked. Am I doing that thing again? That thing where I talk my way out of… whatever this could have been?

CAITLIN: Maybe. What did you want this to be?

DARRYL: Kinda hoping to get a second date out of this.

CAITLIN: And then?

DARRYL: Maybe a third?

CAITLIN: And then? What’s your endgame?

DARRYL: True love.

CAITLIN: I don’t know a lot of guys would use that word on a first date.

DARRYL: You asked.

CAITLIN: Still.

DARRYL: Scared you away yet?

CAITLIN: Why would I be scared? I think right there is your answer.

DARRYL: To what?

CAITLIN: Why I asked you out.

DARRYL: I thought I asked you out.

CAITLIN: Semantics. You don’t exactly play by the rules.

DARRYL: You make me sound like such a bad boy.

CAITLIN: Is a second date really all you wanted to get out of this?

DARRYL: The most I’d dared to dream, I’d say.

CAITLIN: Maybe you should aim a little higher.

TREVOR: Is it… Ben?

BEN: Yes.

TREVOR: Hi. Yeah, so, I’m sorry. She’s not coming back.

BEN: I’m sorry, what?

TREVOR: Your date? We called her a cab. She left about five minutes ago.

BEN: You called her a—hold on. She ghosted me?

TREVOR: I’m sorry. She did pay her own part of the bill, so that’s taken care of, she didn’t stiff you.

BEN: Oh, whooptie-do. Did she say why?

TREVOR: I’m sorry.

BEN: Can I ask you something?

TREVOR: I… sure.

BEN: Do I look like a thug to you?

TREVOR: Um… I mean, not particularly? I don’t know. I don’t really know many thugs? So…

BEN: No, but like, seriously… Do I look like… the kinda guy…

TREVOR: OK, um… I don’t really know the specifics of your situation? That’s just, I don’t know, she didn’t say anything, but I just want to be clear, this might not be about you specifically. Was this your first date? With her, I mean?

BEN: She didn’t even know me.

TREVOR: Well, yeah. See? There you go.

BEN: You’re saying it was her?

TREVOR: Well… I’m saying that it was probably just her interpretation of whatever she was getting from you.

BEN: So it was me?

TREVOR: Well… to be clear, I’m not gonna rule that out just now.

BEN: I see.

TREVOR: How’d you meet her?

BEN: Online.

TREVOR: Like a dating site?

BEN: Facebook. Through friends.

TREVOR: Right. OK. Does your… I’m sorry, but on your profile, do you have maybe pictures of yourself? Like your profile picture?

BEN: My profile picture is a… well, it’s not me, let’s leave it at that.

TREVOR: Do you have pictures of yourself, though?

BEN: Why does this matter?

TREVOR: It’s just that… I mean, I’m not sure how this would transfer to facebook—like I said, I don’t exactly read minds—but I know that on these dating profiles, sometimes if your picture doesn’t match what you really look like, that can be a huge red flag. For some people.

BEN: She knows what I look like. Like I said, we have mutual friends.

TREVOR: Did she seem uncomfortable to you?

BEN: She really seemed like she was into it.

TREVOR: Well…

BEN: No, but like, she really seemed like she was into it. You know?

TREVOR: And you’re probably right, she probably seemed that way, to you.

BEN: You’re saying I can’t pick up on signals?

TREVOR: I’m just going with what you’re giving me here.

BEN: What I’m giving you?

TREVOR: Well, she left. It’s not like I can talk to her.

BEN: Do you think I can’t pick up on signals?

TREVOR: That’s not really something I can tell about a person just by looking at them. Listen, you wanted an explanation, I… I just don’t know, I’m just trying to be a friend here and help you work this thing out.

BEN: You’re not my friend.

TREVOR: That is true.

BEN: Why are you doing this?

TREVOR: I just didn’t want you wasting your time waiting here, when I know she’s not coming back.

BEN: Thanks.

TREVOR: Has this ever happened to you before? I mean—I don’t mean to pry, I know it’s none of my business, but you seem pretty upset about this.

BEN: Not this, specifically.

TREVOR: Do you wanna talk about it?

BEN: I thought she wanted me.

TREVOR: Look, girls are taught from a very young age that they need to appeal to men in a certain way, for all sorts of reasons.

BEN: But how could she…

TREVOR: Maybe there was some trigger for her. It’s hard to know—

BEN: So you are saying I did this?

TREVOR: Maybe not consciously—

BEN: Look, I didn’t do anything here to provoke—

TREVOR: Who said anything about provoking?

BEN: I’m the one who got ghosted, and now, what, you’re blaming me?

TREVOR: OK, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because it sounds to me like you’re trying to set up some kind of equivalency here between what you call “ghosting” and sexual assault—that’s the language that I hear coming from you. And just so we’re perfectly clear on this, that is not a thing. What happened to you here tonight, her leaving you? That was not an assault, by any stretch of the imagination—

BEN: I didn’t say that it was—

TREVOR: Really? Because that was the language you were using. Blaming the victim? I mean, really? You are not a victim here. She just left you. What’s the big deal? She doesn’t owe you anything.

BEN: But she thought I was—

TREVOR: How is she supposed to know?

BEN: Do you know how it feels? To have someone…

TREVOR: Believe it or not, I do.

BEN: Yeah, I bet you have.

TREVOR: No, I have, actually. But you know what? I got over it. Not just the rejection part, either. I realized I had done something that I was not proud of, and I got over that, too.

BEN: Now you’re telling me I should forgive myself?

TREVOR: Why? Did you do something wrong?

BEN: Well, what if I did? What if I did something wrong and I don’t even know what it was? How would I know?

TREVOR: Did she really not tell you anything?

BEN: Not that I—no, no, nothing.

TREVOR: I don’t know what to tell you.

BEN: I should send her a message.

TREVOR: Oh, I wouldn’t.

BEN: I just… I need to know! God dammit, this was a date! A blind date, maybe, but like… Why do people even go on dates?

TREVOR: Lots of reasons.

BEN: We go on dates to get laid.

TREVOR: Um…

BEN: OK, maybe not to get laid right away, that night, but I mean, that’s the endgame, right? And I’m not just talking sex, I mean, we’re all looking for someone, right? Some connection? Romantically? So you come on a date, that’s what you’re looking for, and you know that’s what he’s looking for, what I’m looking for—

TREVOR: Did you make a move?

BEN: What if I did? We were on a date!

TREVOR: Not everyone is comfortable with—

BEN: Then she should have said something!

TREVOR: It’s not always that easy.

BEN: This is a crowded restaurant! What’s gonna happen?

TREVOR: Did you make a move on her, though?

BEN: Nothing… big. It’s just, how am I supposed to know? And that was early on, even. How am I supposed to know that was what did it? What if there was something else and I didn’t even pick up on it because she’s all programmed to placate when threatened? I mean, sure, yeah, she needs to protect herself, but, like, what’s the endgame here? Does she want to end up alone? Because if she goes around judging everyone for every little thing, she’s never gonna be happy. So why even go on dates?

TREVOR: You’re… I’m sorry, is that an actual question?

BEN: What’s the endgame here?

TREVOR: A more mature, respectful society.

BEN: A more mature, respectable society. Now how are we going to achieve that if I can’t learn from my mistakes? If my mistakes aren’t even pointed out to me?

TREVOR: Honestly?

BEN: Please.

TREVOR: That shouldn’t be her responsibility. She doesn’t know you. I mean, sure, you have friends, but like, seriously? Especially if you’re talking about making her analyze, like this, while she’s that uncomfortable, that shouldn’t be on her. You’re making this all about your feelings, but it’s not even about that. This is about safety.

BEN: This is about the appearance of safety.

TREVOR: There really isn’t a difference. Not really. Not when it comes to this.

BEN: Well, I’d like to thank you anyway, for taking the time to talk to me.

TREVOR: Well, like I said, didn’t want you sitting around all night sulking, right? But you’re welcome. And I really do hope that you find an answer to what’s bothering you. Just… do yourself a favor. Keep your distance from her. For now, at least. Give her some space. If you do have mutual friends, maybe ask around, but… can you do that?

BEN: I guess if that’s a step in the right direction, then…

KATIE: Jimmy? Jimmy, oh my God! Where the fuck have you been? Everybody’s been looking for you!

JIMMY: I’ve been around.

KATIE: Around? Did you have your fucking phone off? What?

JIMMY: Lost it.

KATIE: You lost your phone? Shit. I’m sorry.

JIMMY: Yeah, I lost my phone when I crashed my car.

KATIE: Holy shit. Jimmy, I’m so sorry. What happened?

JIMMY: What do you care, anyway?

KATIE: What do I—what do you mean “What do I care?” I’m your girlfriend!

JIMMY: Oh, are you?

KATIE: Jimmy… Jimmy, you’re scaring me.

JIMMY: Yeah, I bet. I bet you’re scared. You prob’ly should be. See, I uh… I had a little talk this morning.

KATIE: A talk?

JIMMY: With Karl.

KATIE: Carl? Which Carl?

JIMMY: Don’t play dumb with me, you know damn well which Karl. He had some stuff to say.

KATIE: Like what kinda stuff?

JIMMY: He actually had some stuff to say about you.

KATIE: Well, Karl Damien is a fucking liar!

JIMMY: You gonna tell me you didn’t fuck him?

KATIE: Yeah. Actually, that’s exactly what I’m gonna say.

JIMMY: You’re really not good at this, you know. This lying. It’s your body, I think it just, I don’t know, maybe it’s whatever’s left of Karl that’s still inside you and wants to, wants to like—

KATIE: All right! All right, it was one time. I don’t know.

JIMMY: Oh! Oh, just one time. Oh, I see.

KATIE: It was one. Time. Jimmy.

JIMMY: It was three times. Hold on. You wait a second. I might even be able to tell you the dates, you ready for this? Don’t you walk away from me!

KATIE: What do you want from me?

JIMMY: How ‘bout some loyalty? How ‘bout some goddamn fidelity? How ‘bout you not sleeping around behind my back just ‘cause I got an internship the other side of the fucking country? How ‘bout that? How ‘bout that?

KATIE: I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but—

JIMMY: I didn’t want you to tell me! I wanted you to not fucking—Goddammit, Katie! Why?

KATIE: I don’t know why. I just… I’m sorry. You weren’t here and I needed…

JIMMY: Oh, you needed to. Oh, I see, now you needed to fuck some other guy?

KATIE: It just happened, OK? I’m sorry!

JIMMY: Listen to me. Listen to me, Katie, all right? Are you listening?

KATIE: I’m listening.

JIMMY: I’m the boss here, you got that?

KATIE: Excuse me?

JIMMY: Shut up when I’m talking to you! I am your man! You got that? I am your man which means you do not fuck any other men—

KATIE: Get off! You’re hurting me—

JIMMY: Oh, I’m hurting you now, huh? Oh, you like that? It’s not fun, is it? It’s not fun getting hurt.

KATIE: I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Jimmy, I’m so sorry!

JIMMY: Sorry isn’t good enough! God, do you have any idea…

KATIE: Jimmy…

JIMMY: You’re mine. You’re my girlfriend. You hear that? Do you feel me? You’re mine, means I can do what I want with you. Just like that. I can do what I want, and when you fuck me over like that, oh baby. Oh baby. I don’t need you anymore. And nobody else matters. Nobody else gets an opinion. You got that? You got that, Katie? ‘Cause you’re mine! Always.

JEAN-YVES: Adèle! Adèèèèle! Où es-tu?

ADÈLE: Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?

JEAN-YVES: Come down. Please? Please come down and talk to me.

ADÈLE: I can’t right now.

JEAN-YVES: Adèle, I swear to you—

ADÈLE: Mais putain! All right! Connard, va! What? All right, come on, spit it out.

JEAN-YVES: You can’t be with him.

ADÈLE: You’re gonna tell me what I can and can’t do?

JEAN-YVES: Yes!

ADÈLE: Oh, well, then, you’re the boss, I guess. Guess I’ll just swing by your place and walk around naked all day, cooking you snacks?

JEAN-YVES: This is not funny.

ADÈLE: Am I laughing?

JEAN-YVES: He is…

ADÈLE: What? Muslim?

JEAN-YVES: Adèle, he doesn’t think of you as a person.

ADÈLE: He’s not l’espèce d’islamophobe misogyn standing on my doorstep telling me who I can and can’t date. Va te faire foutre, Jean-Yves.

JEAN-YVES: He doesn’t love you.

ADÈLE: And you do? Look at you. I must be the luckiest bitch in the world, to have you here to save from the big, bad muslim who’s gonna stand up to his own parents, who do not want him dating a non-muslim.

JEAN-YVES: And you think that’ll work out? You think you’re gonna stay non-muslim? You think he’s gonna put up with that forever? Oh, or do you think you’re going to change him, make him abandon his faith, stop practicing—

ADÈLE: I don’t need him to abandon his faith! I like his faith! His faith gives him morality—what have you got?

JEAN-YVES: You want to talk about morality? I don’t attack people just for believing in a different God!

ADÈLE: No, just for believing in a God at all.

JEAN-YVES: What, so now you’re suddenly religious?

ADÈLE: I’m not a bigot.

JEAN-YVES: But your boyfriend is.

ADÈLE: This, coming from you?

JEAN-YVES: What if there were more of them? Huh? What if there were more of them than us? You don’t think they’d be the ones persecuting?

ADÈLE: You really need to read up on this shit: Muslims aren’t allowed to persecute—

JEAN-YVES: Jews of Christians or Sabians, yeah, sure, that’s what they keep telling us, but look around—

ADÈLE: I am looking around, and I’m seeing Jews and Christians attacking Muslims, after which I’m seeing Muslims getting fed up and fighting back. They didn’t start this cycle of violence—

JEAN-YVES: But what if I’m not Jewish? Or Christian? Or whatever the fuck a Sabian is? What if I’m an Atheist? Their religion explicitly tells them to kill me—

ADÈLE: Where the fuck are you—Look it up! It says “anyone who kills another human being, it is as though he has killed all mankind”—

JEAN-YVES: And if you’d actually read that verse, you would know that you’re leaving something out, it says “if you kill someone except for murder or for spreading corruption”—so then you look at other places in the text, where it uses that word, “spreading corruption”, you know where they use that? Any time they are talking about people speaking out against Islam. That verse is blanket permission for Muslims to kill all the infidels who dare to defy them.

ADÈLE: Like Muslims are the only ones who do that!

JEAN-YVES: Atheists don’t!

ADÈLE: You’re telling me no atheist in the history of the world has ever killed someone for being religious?

JEAN-YVES: Name one!

ADÈLE: Josef Stalin!

JEAN-YVES: Putain de merde, va ! Josef Stalin was a dictator!

ADÈLE: And an atheist!

JEAN-YVES: C’est pas le même chôse !

ADÈLE: Ah, non? And how’s that? Bin Laden was a terrorist, but now suddenly all Muslims are terrorists, alors?

JEAN-YVES: You’re not going to be happy with him.

ADÈLE: Well, I’m definitely not going to be happy with you, donc…

JEAN-YVES: This is not about that.

ADÈLE: Isn’t it, though? If I were hooking up with a white guy, would you accept that? Or would you be jealous?

JEAN-YVES: Jealous? Sure.

ADÈLE: Alors, quoi ?

JEAN-YVES: I’m not jealous for you, Adèle. I’m afraid for you.

ADÈLE: Then I’m telling you it’s none of your business.

IRIS: Ronan? Ronan! Hey! Stop! What’s up?

RONAN: I can’t do this anymore.

IRIS: Oh, come on, I’ve seen you dance longer and harder than that.

RONAN: No, you know what I’m talking about!

IRIS: What is up with you?

RONAN: You! I’m sorry, I keep trying. I try to be okay with it.

IRIS: You try to be okay with me having a good time? Well, thanks. Hey! Ronan Westley Carroll, don’t you dare walk away from me!

RONAN: Is that really the kind of man you want?

IRIS: Excuse me?

RONAN: What do you—Are you seriosly… Seriously?

IRIS: What? Just ‘cause he beat you at chess?

RONAN: Why were we even playing in the first place?

IRIS: Because you like chess! Because you’re good at it! But he beat you, so what? Get over it.

RONAN: Do you really not get it?

IRIS: You’re threatened by him. That’s fair. He’s classy.

RONAN: What kind of a name is “Valdemar” anyway?

IRIS: He’s German! So fucking sue him! What, are you gonna add bigotry to your mess of whatever the hell this is?

RONAN: Oh, you mean he’s a sophisticated European? Oh, I hadn’t noticed—

IRIS: Oh, grow up!

RONAN: Oh! Now I’m the bad guy, huh? Now I’m the one slobbering over every woman on the dance floor!

IRIS: Oh, what, like you’re not?

RONAN: I don’t slobber over you! Do I? No, seriously, do I?

IRIS: … No! No, of course not. We’re… friends.

RONAN: Good night, Iris.

IRIS: Ronan, wait. Stop! Ronan!

RONAN: Good. Night. Iris.

IRIS: Just tell me, OK?

RONAN: Fine. I have been in love with you almost since the moment I laid eyes on you. There. I’ve said it.

IRIS: I thought love at first sight was a shallow poison. Isn’t that what you’re always saying?

RONAN: That’s why I said “almost”. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re beautiful, OK? I fell in love with you because you read Fiona Dugnot and you caught my Dragons’ Will reference years before they started making the series. I fell in love with you because instead of ganging up on me for being a dork, you embraced me, OK? To the point where other people could take me seriously, too. I fell in love with you because… because I thought you might fall in love with me. That doesn’t happen to me. I’m the guy who doesn’t have a girlfriend because “girls don’t watch Stardancers or play Gift of Hades, but you did! But I waited too long. And you wound up with Jeff. And then Tommy. And Seth, and now… Did any of them… You know what? It’s none of my business. None of it was ever any of my business.

IRIS: Why didn’t you say anything?

RONAN: Because I was young and stupid. OK? And almost as inexperienced then as I still am! Given that chance again… Well, given that chance again, I’d probably make the same choice as before, but for a different reason.

IRIS: What do you mean?

RONAN: Back then, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to feel rejected. Now… I think I wouldn’t say anything because I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I wouldn’t want to put that burden on you.

IRIS: Shouldn’t that be my decision?

RONAN: Don’t do that.

IRIS: Don’t what?

RONAN: Don’t pretend like you’d actually…

IRIS: You didn’t tell me! Why are you telling me now?

RONAN: Because right now, I do want to hurt you! I want you to know how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you, because I need you to know that I am not your friend. I never have been.

IRIS: Because you were using our friendship to seduce me? Original.

RONAN: You want to tell me that hasn’t worked on you? Come on, Iris. How long have I know you?

IRIS: Yeah, well, fool me once—

RONAN: Three times, Iris.

IRIS: On a scale from one to Lindsay Lohan, how drunk are you right now?

RONAN: Tony Stark.

IRIS: Oh, you wish.

RONAN: And you need to stop flirting with me.

IRIS: Seriously? How the fuck was that “flirting”?

RONAN: Because you did that thing…

IRIS: That thing? What thing?

RONAN: That thing with your… with your eyebrow.

IRIS: That thing with my eyebrows? Are you fucking with me?

RONAN: Oh, you know what I’m talking about!

IRIS: What could I possibly be doing with my eyebrows that would make you think I was good to go?

RONAN: See, and this right here is why we can’t be friends. Because no matter how hard you try to act “normal” by your own standards, no matter how little encouragement you give, I will always read more into it.

IRIS: Is that my fault?

RONAN: No. No, you’re right, it’s not. But it isn’t about fault. You really can’t help being like catnip for me. I can pretend that you’re a good bag of treats I can use to sharpen my claws and improve my game or something, but in the end, you’re nothing but a toy for the muse of fire to dangle in front of me and it’s driving me crazy!

IRIS: Sometimes I just don’t even know what you’re saying—

RONAN: Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m gonna go now—

IRIS: No, please.

RONAN: Why won’t you let me leave? Why do you keep pulling me back into this?

IRIS: Because I…

RONAN: You almost said it, didn’t you? Something real sweet; maybe not “I love you”, but, like, a sweet little “I don’t want to lose you”?

IRIS: But I don’t want to lose you.

RONAN: How the hell can you not understand that’s the worst possible thing you could say to me right now? Or ever? Because it means you do love me. Platonically. And I’m just now finally coming to grips with that. You love me like a brother. You’ll never love me as anything else. But that’s just not how I feel about you. And this isn’t about blame. This is just… I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.

 

Author’s Note: I have posted a different version of this before on the old blog. This version has different characters for reasons I don’t want to go into right now, and has been cleaned up and adjusted a bit.