In this comedic monologue from the play, “Swipe Left”, Cynthia tells her friend about the series of unfortunate dates she’s been on recently.
CYNTHIA: I’m a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on the ‘hopeless‘. I’ve been on so many disastrous Tinder dates, I think the app should start sending me sympathy cards. Take last Tuesday when I met up with Michael. He showed up late, sat down, and immediately told me he’d forgotten his wallet. Now, I don’t mind paying. Really, I don’t. But Michael order lobster. And a bottle of fancy wine. And dessert. When the check came, he offered to ‘pay me back in exposure’ because he’s an influencer. I’m like, Michael, the only thing you’re influencing right now is my desire to delete Tinder.
And then there was Dave–Dave was the one who brought his mom on the date. He said, “She’s my best friend!” Which, you know, is actually kind of sweet, until she started interviewing me like I was applying for a job at the DMV. She even had a checklist. A checklist! By the end, I was just hoping to pass the background check and maybe get a sticker.
At this point, I’d date a moderately charming houseplant. Maybe I am hopeless. But I guess I’ll keep swiping–who knows? Maybe next time I’ll get someone who shows up with a wallet and no mom in tow. That would be progress, right?
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