Playing It Cool Page #3

No, he's my boyfriend.

- Hi, honey.

- Darling, there you are.

I have no idea what Stuffy said,

because I went temporarily deaf.

Where'd you go, homey?

I was looking for you.

You don't look too good.

Oh, did you have the crab?

Yeah, I had the crab.

It's probably why I was on

the shitter for so long.

Okay, that sucked.

Shake it off.

Time to randomly text some chicks.

Hey. I'm so glad you called.

I didn't.

I found that love is like a leak in a boat.

It starts slow, with a drip,

and if you don't plug it,

it gets worse until you drown.

And to fix it,

you should really find an expert.

I want to tell him, "No, Mr. Policeman,

this is not a thumbs-up moment."

But yeah, it is.

We all have different patches

for the leak, and mine is sex.

Which is about to erase all the traces

of that girl from the charity event

right out of my brain.

Wait.

Stop. Stop. Stop. I'm sorry.

What the hell?

Good question.

Question for you,

there was a girl here...

she had brown hair,

just a great, great, girl height.

Perfect smile, red dress,

kind of a whole happy thing going on.

- Ringing any bells?

- No. Sorry.

Sh*t.

Hey!

What the hell were you doing?

Listen, Erin, you're amazing,

but is there somewhere I could drop you?

She would go on to say

her name was Regan.

At least I think it was.

Wow, I'm not good with names.

Teresa, she could be a Teresa.

Jenn with two N's, no, never.

Mary, too plain.

Shantiqua, highly unlikely.

Chastity, f***, I hope not.

If there's one thing

you should know about writers

is that we don't suffer alone very well.

It's why we write.

It's why we form little groups.

This is mine in action.

Lyle, single, harmless deviant.

The proud writer of the first 20 pages

of 16 screenplays and 12 novels.

He needs a shower.

Samson, married, graphic novelist,

poems, short stories...

kind of too old to be hanging out

with us but we don't give a sh*t.

Mallory, she writes and performs

intensely personal one-woman shows

she drags the rest of us to.

We f*** sometimes... for research.

Scott, you met him.

Why do you need to know her name?

I guess...

I kind of wanted to say

her name out loud.

Oh, stop, it's a passing infatuation,

that's allowed.

Gee, I wish some guy thought about

saying my name out loud.

You mean like while he's playing

with his dangly bits?

- Yes.

- Who says there are no more romantics?

No, I actually think the whole idea of love

is kind of unrealistic and outdated.

- That's touching.

- Well, make sure that goes in your RomCom.

- You know how I kill infatuation?

- With a gun?

When I meet a hot girl,

I'll just look for one flaw

whether she's pigeon-toed

or knock-kneed or just not very polite.

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