1: What you’re saying means that I’m doing this all wrong.

2: You’re not doing it wrong, you’re just missing it. I think if you meet someone you like, there’s a window of time you can hook up. If you wait too long, you can’t hook up any more.

1: How long does that take? For you? You don’t have to speak for all women.

2: (thoughtfully) When I can’t stand to lose the person.

1: (digesting) Now, what does that mean? That goes against everything I’ve learned. Growing up, I believed I should get to know the woman I’m interested in. Care for who she is. Be attracted to who she is on the inside.

2: Right.

1: But if I do that, then I’ve waited too long, and I can only be her friend.

2: (visibly uncomfortable)

1: And what does that mean about failure in relationships? That means that you want to hook up with someone you don’t care about, but all the time you hope you can build the relationship to the point that you don’t want to lose each other.

2: God.

1: (to audience) This is pretty much the way our conversation happened that night. But I never came out and said, "this is us we’re talking about."

2: And a good thing. I would have freaked out.

1: I think my falling in love with you will always be there. But now it’s more like a strata in a rock formation. There are other things piling on top of it. One day it will be only a stripe.

2: You’ve got to get over that.

1: Get over what? You treat me as one of your closest friends! You love the attention.

2: But it’s hard to be comfortable around you.

1: How hard is it?

2: It’s hard to think that you want me and I don’t want you in the same way. I want us to want each other the same way. At my level.

1: But you like me a lot. I’ve dreamed of arguing this with you for so long. Check it out: You told me, "in a way, it would be perfect." Those were your exact words when I approached you. I think you’re into me, but the biggest things standing in your way are that you’re enjoying being alone and that you’re terrified of inevitable failure.

2: I am enjoying being alone. And I do believe all relationships end badly. Especially if they start off like this.

1: But here’s what would happen. You’d let loose and open up to the idea, we’d have our glory days of high, ecstatic romance, and then we’d start leveling out. Some conflict would arise and we’d make reparations. We’d keep doing this over and over, but each time you’d feel that the reparations were shoddier and that the conflicts were more serious. Then we’d bottom out, and we’d both feel crappy, but the thing that could save us is when you realize even though our relationship will have to end some day, whether by death or disaster, that the trip was beautiful, that you enjoyed it, that you felt love and were loved.

2: That’s optimistic. How long do you give us?

1: Oh, I don’t know. Fifty years.

2: (stunned silence.)

1: I’m interested in the story of you. I want to watch you when you make these leaps. And see you when you come back to bed with me. I am so curious to see you pregnant -- the image in my head astounds me. And as a mother. A mother of a teenager. Making rules, breaking rules. I’m not interested in having a family but I’m interested in having a family with you.

2: How can you say these things? You’re fucking crazy! You want me to jump off a building holding your hand!

1: That way you feel when you’re turning the page in a really good chapter? That’s how I feel about you. (extends hand.)

Curtain.