Speed Date

 Something a little bit different from my usual fair. Not only is it not fantasy or sci fi, it's actually a comedy piece. Or, rather, it's meant to be a comedy piece. I'll leave its success or failure on that score down to you're judgement. I started this for a university assignment, and expanded it later on. Who knows, if I ever end up writing scripts, it could end up in a play or tv show!
 Enjoy!

Two minutes.

 I sit down opposite the girl, and we smile nervously at each other. She is blond, with brown eyes and fair skin. A little plain, perhaps, though not unattractive. To a straight man, that is. Which I most decidedly am not.

 ‘Hi, I’m Kate.’ She says, smiling again and playing nervously with the drink in front of her.

 ‘I’m-’ Gay, I think. No, stop it. ‘I’m Alex.’ And I’m gay.

 ‘So… tell me about yourself.’ I say, struggling to get things started, and wondering self-consciously what all the other couples are talking about.

One minute, forty seconds.

 ‘Well, I’m twenty years old, I’m from Bristol, and I’m studying Bioscieince.’ She says, speaking rapidly before pausing to take a large sip of her drink. ‘What about you? I guess you’re a student?’

 Of course I’m a student, I think. This is a student speed date, set up by the student’s union, and held in the student bar.

‘Yeah, I’m studying music,’ I’m gay. ‘I’m 21,’ I’m really gay. ‘and I’m from Winchester.’ And I’m a raving homosexual.

One minute, thirty seconds.

 ‘It must be nice studying music,’ Kate says a little wistfully ‘Do you play any instruments?’

 I’m an excellent horn-blower- Stop! ‘Yeah, I play piano and guitar. How about you?’

 ‘I used to play the cello, but I gave it up a couple of years ago.’ She gives me what I guess is meant to be a seductive smile. ‘Although I really miss the feeling of something hard between my legs.’

 Something we have in common, I think.

 ‘Perhaps you should take it up again.’ I say.

 ‘Or find a substitute.’ Oh, god. I have never wanted to fly the Pride flag more in my life.

 One minute, 10 seconds.

 ‘You know, you look just like Justin Bieber.’ She says. Just what every man wants to hear.

 ‘Oh, thank you.’ I hesitate for a second. ‘Are you a fan?’

 ‘Isn’t everyone?’ No, no they are not. ‘I think he’s so talented; don’t you find he’s so original? And there’s so much depth to his songs.’

 ‘I suppose so.’ I fight the urge to tell her that I would rather pour acid in my ear than go to a Bieber concert.

 ‘Actually, I just sent him a cake yesterday, for Valentine’s Day, you know.’

 ‘Oh really?’ She’s looking at me expectantly, as though I should confess to having done the exact same thing. For a moment I struggle to find something to say to fill the silence.

 Forty-five seconds.

 ‘What kind of cake was it?’ I ask.

 ‘Chocolate, of course; it’s his favourite.’ I wonder if I should be impressed by her knowledge, or embarrassed by the apparent lack in mine. ‘And hair.’ She adds.

 ‘Hair?’ I repeat. No, I must have misheard.

 ‘That’s right. I added some of my own hair to the batter.’ She smiles, as if chocolate hair cake is completely normal.

 ‘Why?’

 ‘Because once he eats it, a part of me will be inside him, and then we’ll be one forever.’ She smiles dreamily.

 Twenty-five seconds.

 ‘So how about you?’ she asks, breaking from her revere.

‘What about me?’ Have I ever sent a freaky voodoo cake to a famous person? A raisin-and-saliva cookie to a film-star, perhaps, or a jam-and-skin donut to a footballer?

 ‘Any celebrity crushes?’

 ‘Oh, no,’ Johnny Depp, Bradley Cooper, Ryan Gosling, ‘Not really.’

 Twenty seconds.

 ‘What kind of films do you like?’ I ask, desperately trying to fill the time.

 ‘I don’t know. I like comedies, I guess. Definitely not sci-fi or horror. To be honest, I’m not that into films. I think they’re too divorced from reality.’

 ‘Yeah,’ I say. As opposed to the girl who thinks that sending hair-cake to Justin Bieber is a good idea.

 Ten seconds.

 ‘So… what’s your favourite colour?’ Kate asks.

 Trick question: Gays don’t have a favourite colour, we like them all. ‘Um, blue, I guess.’

 ‘Me too!’ she beams, as though a mutual liking for a colour meant that we are eternal soul-mates.

Ding! Ding!

 ‘Well, it was lovely meeting you.’ Kate says as I stand up. She picks up the sheet of paper and makes a show of putting a tick next to my number.

 ‘Yeah, you too.’ I smile again, before moving on to the next table.

 Two minutes.

 ‘Well, what did you think?’ the girl asks as I sit down. ‘Do I hear wedding bells?’

 ‘This is the last time I go along with one of your ideas.’ I grumble, glaring at her.

 ‘Come on, it’s fun.’ She laughs. ‘Did you tell her you’re gay?’

 I jerk my head in the direction of the boy who has just moved to the next table.

 ‘Did you tell him that you’re engaged?’ I ask, arching an eyebrow.