MARLA enters. Chase watches her with immediate interest.
MARLA: (to the audience; a bit flustered) I never know what to write in these things. I mean, I want to be candid and open, but how much is too much? What if I write something really asinine by accident, something that’s supposed to be a joke, but you take it seriously and think I’m a complete mental case, or worse, stupid? See, I’ve already done it, this entire paragraph is excessively loquacious and probably makes me seem like a grade-A lunatic, but I figure it’s best for you to find out now that I overthink things and talk too much – or type too much – before you message me and we go on a date maybe and you find out that I’m actually a wee bit too “eccentric” for your taste.
She takes a deep, centering breath.
But this is just a dating site. I’m overthinking and overreaching, as usual. This is just one paragraph in one profile on one of the thousands of websites on the internet designed to connect lonely losers with other lonely losers. So it’s not like you’re judging me. You’re a lonely loser too.
(deep breath, suddenly cheerful) Hi! I’m Marla. I like long walks on the beach. Just kidding. Can you imagine?! Actually, I like graphic design, yellow tulips, steel-toed Doc Martens, and staying up all night. I drink too much coffee. I fall in love really thoroughly and hard when I do, but I haven’t in a while, which is getting to be a bit… dispiriting. So naturally, I turned to the internet. The magical internet which is going to solve all of our problems by taking away all of our privacy and allowing anonymous strangers to laugh at us from halfway around the planet.
I’m not really as cynical as this profile is making me seem. I just think the world is getting sort of weird. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, right? I mean, you must like weird, or you wouldn’t still be reading this.
I’m looking for someone who likes to hold hands but won’t freak out if mine are sweaty. I’m looking for someone who won’t have a spasm of commitmentphobia if I impulsively decide to tattoo his name on my bicep. I’m looking for someone who knows the appropriate times to use semicolons and ampersands. And I guess I’m also looking for someone who might, eventually, someday in the distant murky future, want to marry me and possibly impregnate me with adorably neurotic children.
Do I sound like someone you might like to contact? Then you know what to do. And if you don’t, you’re probably not smart enough to date me anyway.
A stunned silence. Marla looks nervous while Chase stares in awe.