Malcolm sits in the chair, watching what is happening around him. He hates fancy restaurants. He drinks some wine, waits for his blind date. The deal was at 10 p.m. It's been a few minutes now and his patience is limited. Malcolm takes another sip of wine, drums his fingertips on the table, barely audible and impatient. He sighs, watching the couples giggling, feeding each other, or being romantic. Malcolm wonders why he never has much luck with women.