It's a story that might bore you, but you don't have to listen,
because I always knew it was going to be like that.
( techno music playing )
Woman: And it was, I think, in that last year, or weekend--
really a Friday in December at Camden--
and this was years ago, when I was a different person
and I was so drunk that I ended up losing my virginity.
I lost it to some guy who I thought was a Ceramics major,
but was actually either a NYU film student
who was just up to Camden for the "End of the World,"
or a townie.
I actually had my eye on someone else that night-- Victor.
I'm telling you, with European girls,
it's just a numbers game.
If you stand in any major European city on any fucking corner,
and consecutively ask every girl that walks by if she'll fuck you,
one out of 20 will say "yes."
Woman: A junior, a Drama major, just back from Europe...
only a little gay, with flecked blond hair,
a great body and these amazing gray eyes.
Bam-- 20th one, you're fucking. Right there.
It's a confirmed statistic, my man.
Woman: But Victor was fucking my roommate, Lara.
She gave him mono before he dumped her.
I'm told that later, after I left Camden,
she got really drunk and went wandering through Windham House,
and did the whole football team.
( music plays )
Man: White girl...
She's now married to a senator and has four kids.
How time distorts things.
So you know the movie I'm talking about?
It was wrongfully labeled "A Tarantino Film,"
even though he was just credited as executive producer.
So this guy from NYU, or whatever--
who wasn't even a good Victor facsimile--
and I were talking on this ratty old couch.
I'm sure you've seen this movie, this Russian classic,
- "The Man with the Camera"? - Yep, yep.
I kept agreeing with his likes and dislikes, all the time thinking
that while he might not be Victor, he was cute enough.
It's real. It's like real... shit.
I was sure that I was mispronouncing all these filmmakers' names,
remembering all the wrong actors,
naming the wrong cinematographers, but I wanted him.
...I see the same kind of "silent movie actress" quality.
Seriously, has anyone ever told you you look like Clara Bow?
Because you do, I'm serious. I'm telling you.
I know these things, and... and...
Woman: I could see that his gaze was drifting towards Kristin Notneff.
And she was looking back at him with confidence, because she knew
that underneath her clothes she was wearing a black bra
with matching black lace panties, which I wasn't.
Um, I'm sorry, what was I talking about?
Woman: But I had the next best thing.
I've got a joint in my room.
Except it wasn't my room. It was Lorna Slavin's room,
who was off-campus at her boyfriend's house,
probably swallowing his DNA.
And I didn't have a joint either,
and if I did, I didn't know where it was,
because it would have been Lorna Slavin's joint.
He wouldn't have cared if I had one or not.
I must have passed out around then.
When I came to, he was already fucking me,
but he didn't know that I was a virgin and that it hurt.
Not that badly-- only a little bit of sharp pain,
but not as bad as I had been taught to expect--
but not exactly pleasant, either.
That's when I heard another voice in the room.
Now, I want you to do her like Ron Jeremy would.
Woman: I remember the weight on the bed shifting,
and realizing that this person behind me
wasn't the NYU film student guy, but somebody else.
Oh, my God, it was some townie.
I had actually lost my virginity to a townie.
( boy grunting )
This wouldn't have happened with Victor.
He would have taken me gently in his big, strong Drama major arms,
and undressed me quietly and expertly,
taken my bra off with grace and ease.
And it probably wouldn't have hurt.
I should have given myself to Victor last term when I had the chance.
( door bangs )
Dude, we had to put the keg somewhere.
Don't put it there, it's blocking my shot.
Now get the fuck out of here before you ruin my movie.
( gasping )
Woman: I always knew it would be like this.
I just get the feeling my life lacks forward momentum.
Like everything is moving by so quickly
that time just seems to stop.
( pool break shot )
Man's voice: Sometimes I can't believe the shit
that spills out of my mouth.
So while I talk about God knows what,
I let my eyes drift across the room,
as my mouth allows thoughts to drop out of my brain
and roll off my tongue like gumballs,
I imagine all the things in life that never were,
and all the things that could have been.
He'll do.
I like this song.
Man's voice: Gay song, definitely.
Do you have any E?
That shit makes your spinal fluid run backwards.
- I may have some up in my room. - You're game, right?
No one's twisting your arm.
I don't even know why I'm trying to convince you.
Let's do it.
I think it's kicking in.
I feel it now, too.
Man's voice: The truth is, I feel nothing.
What the fuck!
- Sorry, I thought you were gay. - Fuck you, I'm no fag!
You sure about that?
I definitely detect a certain "faggy-ness" to you.
Get the fuck outta here, you fucking homo!
I'm not gay.
You're lucky I don't kill you.
Luck has nothing to do with it.
Everything is preordained.
Manifest destiny.
You can stop time from happening no more than you can will
the oceans to overwhelm the world,
or to cause the moon to drop from her outer sphere.
Three months later, the handsome dunce
had an affair with a friend of mine.
Within a year, he was a full-blown queen
and telling people I couldn't get it up.
Luck has nothing to do with anything.
Man's voice: A great numb feeling washes over me
as I let go of the past and look forward to the future.
I pretend to be a vampire.
I don't really need to pretend, because that's who I am,
an emotional vampire.
I've just come to expect it--
that vampires are real,
that I was born this way,
that I feed off of other people's real emotions.
I search for this night's prey.
Who will it be?
You look familiar-- have we met?
I think I fucked her somewhere toward the beginning of term,
the "Wet Wednesday" party.
No.
- What's your name? - Peter.
Really? Aren't you a senior?
No, a freshman.
Really? I thought you were older.
No, I'm a freshman.
Peter. Peter the freshman.
She has dick-sucking lips, so I consider the options.
I leave right now, go back to my room,
play the guitar...
masturbate to broadband-speed Internet porn...
I'm going to come on those tits.
...go to sleep.
Or...
I could play "Quarters" with Dickie and Quinlivan
and that dumb guy from LA.
Or I could take her to the Carousel for some coffee
and ditch her there with the bill.
Or I could take her back to my room,
hope the Frog is gone, get stoned and fuck her.
So, what do you think?
What do I think?
I think, why not?
Rock and roll.
She slowly followed me back to my dorm room
Iike she knew this would happen,
too eager, too stunned to speak.
I was so excited, I couldn't stop shaking
and I dropped the key when I tried to unlock the door.
She sat on the bed and I played her a song I had written myself,
then segued into one by Counting Crows.
I played it quietly and sang the lyrics slowly and softly.
She was so moved that she actually started to cry.
* I'm not ready for this sort of thing... *
Maybe it was the Ecstasy I'm pretty sure she was on.
Maybe it was that she thought she really loved me.
But when he kissed her on the lips, he instantly went hard.
She was crying, her face was slick,
but she let let him pull her clothes off.
She smelled like sweet fruit. She was small, too.
Her pubic hair was light and sparse.
Yet, when he fingered her, he didn't feel anything--
she wasn't getting wet,
even though she was making soft little moans.
He was semi-stiff and losing his erection.
Something was wrong, something was missing,
he didn't know what.
Confused, he started to fuck her.
Before he came, it hit him--
he can't remember the last time he had sex sober.
Girl: Peter! Oh, Peter!
( classical music plays )
Fuck!
* This is stranger than I thought *
* Six different ways inside my heart *
* And everyone I'll keep tonight *
* Six different ways go deep inside *
* I'll tell them anything at all *
* I know I'll give them more and more... *
* I'll tell them anything at all *
* I know I'll give the world and more *
* They think I'm on my hands and head *
* This time they're much too slow *
* Six sides to every lie I say *
* It's that American voice again *
* It was never quite like this before *
* Not one of you is the same *
* To do do do... *
You sneaky bitch.
Sean's voice: "Got you.
You're mine now for the rest of the day,
week, month, year, life.
Have you guessed who I am? Sometimes I think you have.
Sometimes, when you're scanning a crowd,
I feel those sultry dark eyes of yours stop on me.
Are you too afraid to come up to me and let me know how you feel?
I want to moan and writhe with you,
and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth
and pull you to me and say, 'Love you, love you,'
while stripping.
I want you so bad it stings.
I want to kill the ugly girls you're always with.
Do you really like those boring, naive, coy, calculating girls,
or is it just for sex?
The seeds of love have taken hold,
and if we won't burn together, I'll burn alone."
* This is stranger than I ever thought. *
What?
How'd she do that?
Blood clot.
What's going on?
You're gonna have to sell that bike of yours,
- that's what's going on. - Why?
Where's my money, college boy?
Do you take American Express?
That's not funny.
You like that?
They taught it to me in the Army.
One of 1 7 hand-to-hand combat methods
of rendering your enemy defenseless.
Now, all I got to do is apply positive pressure
to rip your carpals free from your metacarpals,
and you will be unable to operate your weapon!
I'm not your enemy, Rupert, and I don't have a weapon.
That's why you get a little time, homes.
You want some coke?
Sure.
Then buy some of your own, bitch.
Get the fuck out of my crib and get me my money.
There's an Orgy Night at Booth House.
I'm scoring for a bunch of freshman.
They're rich, they want cocaine, they'll pay premium to get it.
What do you think?
I think you're a rich motherfucking motherfucker,
who owes me a shitload of motherfucking cash.
That's what I think, you rich motherfucking motherfucker.
You want some blow, motherfucker?
You bring me my motherfucking cash, motherfucker! Fuck you!
Jesus fucking Christ, Rupert, don't get so tense.
I'll show you tense, motherfucker.
You're into me for a fuckload of money,
and I think you and your motherfucking rich-kid friends
are gonna take off to all your rich-ass motherfucking lives,
Ieaving me holding my motherfucking dick!
So fuck you!
Fucking, Rupert, fucking A'. I'm not like those rich assholes.
I'm on financial aid. I have to work for a living.
I'm from a fucking farm in Nebraska.
My family had to sell the fucking cow to get me here.
- I'm working in food service. - Bullshit!
My father's in the hospital, okay?
My family's strapped for cash. I might have to drop out.
- Really? - The Lord is my witness. Yes.
You really don't have any fucking cash?
No, I had to work all summer just to pay for this term.
I thought you went home to New York for the summer.
That's what I told people so they wouldn't laugh at me.
I actually had to wash pigs all summer, Rupert.
Jesus Christ, man, I can get these kids to overpay,
they're so desperate for drugs.
I'm your key to moving this shit on campus.
You need me, and you know it.
And I need the cash. We need each other.
You get this straight, fuckhead.
I need you like I need
a motherfucking asshole on my elbow!
Right here! An asshole!
That's how much I need you.
What do you think, Guest?
I think you should sniff less cocaine.
And stop leaving the gun there laying on the table, man.
Leave the boy alone before he piss in panty.
( laughs )
You know I'm just fucking with you, baby, right?
Right.
( sniffs )
What kind of markup do you think you can get
off these rich-ass freshmen?
Well, that depends on how stepped-on it is.
Stepped-on? Guest, is our shit stepped-on?
No, man, it's fresher than the morning snow.
What the bumbaclot wrong with him?
Maybe 20% over market value.
50%, you say!
Hot damn, college boy!
That's some good motherfucking math!
I do believe we have ourselves a deal.
Do we have ourselves a deal?
Sean: Sure.
Good, it's time for you to get to work.
Sometimes, a minute...
will last like an hour, you know?
Where other times...
an hour just...
just zips by in like a minute.
It's all subjective.
Every person perceives it...
perceives it different.
It's like, that's why you can't trust clocks, you know?
Marc, you owe me 500 bucks.
I want it by Sunday.
Okay?
You notice I don't have any clocks in my room,
because they interfere with your ability to...
...to adjust the time to...
to suit your needs, you know?
Marc.
Do not be a slave to time, my friend,
because, it--
there's no point.
( Marc gasps )
( groans )
( grunting )
I-- I can feel my dick.
I can feel my dick.
Whoo!
Oh my God!
- Hey! Fucking, hey! - ( banging bed )
What about the cash?
Marc, what about the fucking cash?
What class, man?
Who teaches that?
Fucking--
Just go away, you know.
Just stop bugging me.
Just stop asking me. Stop kicking my fucking bed.
Stop, you know, oooh...
I'll get you your fucking-- just don't fuck my karma, dude!
Don't fuck it up!
( clarinet playing )
( cheering )
* Get yourself together, get yourself together *
* Shake, shake, shake... *
* Get yourself together... *
Hi, Mitch. What's up?
Not very much. What's up with you?
Not much.
Can we talk?
What do you want to talk about?
Just what's going on.
Hey, I warned you.
Remember that.
I know, I know.
Wait, what did you warn me about?
I warned you!
* Shake, shake, shake... *
Wait, Mitch.
Mitch, don't be such a pussy.
I am warning you again.
I don't know what your fucking problem is.
Just stay the fuck aw--
- Hey. - Hey, guys.
Is there some sort of problem, Paul and Mitchell?
No-- you two know each other?
Yeah. Hi.
Hi.
Mitch, I'm kinda through partying tonight.
Do you want to walk me back to my room?
My roommate's at her boyfriend's tonight.
Mitch: Yeah.
What about you, Paul? What are you doing?
- Come on, let's go. - It might be fun.
- No. - Come on.
- Let's go. - You know you want to.
- Later, guy. - Bye, Paul. Maybe next time.
Mr. Bateman.
Excuse you.
Sean Bateman, right?
Right. It's Paul?
Right.
The girl with Mitchell?
Paul: You mean, Candice? Her name is Candice.
Yeah, that's right.
I had a class with her, but I failed it.
Really? My type of guy.
Fucking keg's dead.
Typical. I wish I had a case of beer.
- Quesadilla? - What?
A quesadilla? Mexican food? El Sombrero?
El Sombrero closed a long time ago.
How about tomorrow night? I'll buy.
I don't know. You'll buy?
Totally buy.
Rock and roll.
Tomorrow, then.
( alarm beeps )
( stops )
( guitar music playing )
* Yellow is the color of my true love's hair *
* In the morning, when we rise *
- * That's the time * - * That's the time *
* I love the best *
* Green is the color... *
How could you possibly go out this early in the morning?
- I've got class. - It's Saturday.
* When we rise *
- ( beeping ) - * In the morning *
* When we rise *
Merde! What is it?
Asshole, turn off the fucking thing!
- * That's the time * - * That's the time *
* I love the best *
( beeping continues )
* Blue is the color of the sky *
* In the morning, when we rise *
- * That's the time * - * That's the time *
* I love the best... *
( snores )
( flatulence )
* Mellow is the feeling that I get *
* When I see her, hm-mmm *
* When I see her, oh, yeah *
- * That's the time * - * That's the time *
* I love the best *
* Freedom is a word I rarely use *
* Without thinking, oh, yeah *
* Without thinking, hm-mmm *
- * Of the time * - * Of the time *
* When I've been loved *
* Yellow is the color of my true love's hair *
* In the morning *
- * When we rise * - ( man snorts )
* In the morning, when we rise *
- * That's the time * - * That's the time *
* I love the best. *
- Hi. - Hey.
Are you here for that class?
The tutorial on the Post-Modern Condition?
- Yeah. - It was canceled.
Typical.
I've never seen you there before.
That's what's so typical.
It's the first time I ever bothered to show up for it.
Yeah, you've got bad timing.
Saturdays suck ass.
I don't have to put up with this shit.
I'm dropping this fucking class.
- Yeah, me too. - Really?
Mm-hmm. I think I'm gonna change my major.
- To what? - I don't know yet.
- What's yours? - I don't even know.
( sighs )
Your name's Sean Bateman, right?
Right. Your name is Lauren.
Yeah. I bought pot from you last year.
It was good. A little seedy though.
You used to go out with that Paul Denton dude, right?
Yeah.
Before.
Show me your eyes.
*...Feeling that I get *
* When I see her, hm-mmm *
* When I see her, oh, yeah *
- * That's the time * - Rock and roll.
- * That's the time * - * That's the time *
- * I love the best *
Maybe I'll see you at the next pre-Saturday-party party.
Or something.
* Freedom is a word I rarely use *
* Without thinking, oh, yeah *
* Without thinking, mm-hmm *
- * Of the time * - * Of the time *
* When I've been loved. *
( singing in French )
Oh my God. Harry tried to kill himself.
Paul's voice: That is so typical.
I just knew something like this was going to happen.
I just had a feeling that there would be some obstacle,
major or minor, that was going to prevent
my evening with Sean from happening.
You've got to come to Fel's house-- he's there.
Shit, Jesus, Paul. We've got to do something.
That's way too gay.
Um... call security?
Trust me, they'll be there within an hour.
Security. Security?
What do you need, a formal fucking invitation?
I have an appointment at 7:00, Raymond!
You are killing Harry! Pull it together!
Mach schnell!
What did he do, try to OD on Sudafed and wine coolers?
Oh, my God. I brought Paul.
- What did he take? - I don't know.
Oh, Harry, sweetie, are you okay?
He's going to get death of cold.
I think we should take him to Dunham Hospital.
That's all the way in fucking Keene! Are you crazy?
- Where else is there, asshole? - I have to meet someone at 7:00.
Fuck your meeting! Get the car, Raymond!
Grab his feet! Jesus!
Jesus, this is so typical.
He found out he was adopted today.
Could we stop at a Circle K and get some cigarettes?
I remind you we have somebody OD'ing back here.
He's not OD'ing.
He's a freshman. Freshman don't OD.
Fuck you, Paul! Oh shit, he's throwing up!
- Open the fucking window! - He's not throwing up.
Then what do you call that "ccchhh" sound, huh?
Dry heaves. He's forgetting to breathe
and he has a lot of air in his stomach.
Maybe you should be inducing vomiting.
Should I just pull the car over?!
- Can I change the CD? - Shut up, Paul!
You're going to be okay.
* Blue-eyed dressed for every situation *
* Moving through the doorway of the nation-- *
( music stops )
- Come on, grab his arm. - Oh, God.
Okay, you're gonna make it.
Both: Help!
- Help! - We need some help over here.
- Please! This guy's OD'ing! - Oh my God.
Will you get him into the Emergency Room?
- Thank God. - I'm on my break.
I there anyone else around here, please?!
- Hello? - Please take care of Harry.
Please, you've got to take care of him!
- Move, move! - Oh, God. Oh, God.
Sir, can I speak to your manager, please?
Will you get him up. His name's Harry, please!
- What's his name? - Harry.
- Harry, Harry.
I'm not getting any pulse.
Is this a joke?
I can see him moving. He's not dead.
- I can see him breathing. - He's dead, Paul, shut up!
And how did this happen, exactly?
- Oh God, I don't know! - Oh God, oh God!
Will you shut up? He's not dead.
He hasn't got a pulse. There's no heartbeat.
His pupils are fixed and dilated.
Harry, please come back.
Sorry, there's nothing more I can do here.
You have to do something.
I've seen this on ER. Please fix him!
Harry's gone bye-bye. Harry's gone to the big bye-bye.
He's got his name in the papers on the back side.
It's "'toe-tag time' in Teenville" tonight. Again.
- What? - Teenville?
You should've just said no, Harry.
- I'm not dead, am I? - Ahh!
Yes, you are! Shut up!
Actually, you don't have a pulse. I think you're dead.
If you let me run a few tests, I could probably prove it.
- You've got a malpractice suit! - Harry is dead.
You don't know what you're talking about!
Harry: Seriously, am I dead?
A few tests on Harry, I'm sure I could prove he's dead.
No! Pain and suffering!
I must insist you bring back your friend's corpse
for me to do some tests.
( groans )
Is your ultimate deterrent to a Friday night party working?
Sort of.
The best would be Victor though.
Okay, enough fantasizing. Victor is 3000 miles away.
Use the book.
Okay, how do I look?
You look kinda skinny, actually.
Skinny? Really?
Bulimic skinny or anorexic skinny?
What's the difference?
Bulimic skinny passes for healthy,
except your teeth rot, but my teeth aren't rotting, so...
So you look bulimic skinny?
Lauren, I'm telling you,
it's amazing the weight you lose when you get off the pill.
Yeah, until the 50 pounds you gain when you get knocked up.
Okay, well, do the math.
If a condom is 98% safe, and he wears two,
then you're 196% safe.
That is a much better percentage than the pill can offer.
I don't think it works that way, Lara.
Abstinence is 1 00% safe, which is less of a percentage than--
Whatever, I don't care. I don't major in math.
- So are you coming or not? - I don't know.
Lauren, listen to your friend and roommate.
If you spend the rest of your life
waiting for Victor, you're never gonna lose your virginity.
You can't just wait for destiny to play itself out.
You have to make it happen.
( retching )
Is she coming tonight?
- I doubt it. - Why?
- She's been looking at the book. - What book?
It's this big medical book she's got of venereal diseases.
Before a party, she looks through it to discourage herself
from hooking up with people like you.
It's got some pretty nasty imagery.
And it helps her keep her focused on her homework.
- So, she's not coming, then? - Nope.
So, you want to get me another beer?
Hey, Sean. Sorry I'm late.
What?
There was this whole thing-- I had to take this freshman
to the hospital and there was this sick kid and, anyhow, I'm--
What the fuck are you talking about?
- I'm here. - Never mind.
- I'll make it up to you. - You don't have to.
I know I don't have to, but I want to.
- I insist. - Whatever.
Really.
I have some pot in my room
if you want to smoke and get stoned.
- You have pot? - In my room, yeah.
- Want a beer? - Let's go.
Hey, Lauren, this is...
- Jim. - Jim, from Dartmouth.
- Hi. - Brewski for you-ski?
- Sure. - Hey, you want it you got it.
He thinks this is the "Dress to Get Screwed" party.
If you want him, I'll give him to ya.
No, that's okay.
You sure? 'Cause I don't see Victor around.
What about Sean Bateman? Have you seen him around?
Yeah, actually, Sean Bateman just ran off with Paul.
- Paul Denton? - Uh-huh.
- Are you serious? - Yeah.
You don't think... no.
- I don't know. - No.
He must just be selling him something.
- Must be. - Must be.
Yeah.
Okay, so what is this? Are you out on the prowl again?
Yeah, that book's just not-- it's not doing it.
- No? - Huh-uh.
Good. Okay, well, just don't wait up for me, okay?
- Okay. - Okay.
Okay.
Miss Lauren Hynde.
Why weren't you at my tutorial last Saturday?
Would you like a drink?
( classical music plays )
( chuckles )
Come here.
- Mmm? - Mm-hmm.
- Yeah. - ( laughs )
- Do you want a turn-on? - No thanks.
Well...
don't mind if I do.
Are we going to do it here on the couch?
Do what?
You know, do it.
( laughs ) What?
Fuck?
Oh, are you mad?
I would lose my tenure.
And I'm a married man.
But aren't you hitting on me?
Well, for a hummer, sure.
I've heard you're talented, Miss Hynde.
And it certainly can't hurt your GPA.
So, shall we?
So where did you spend last summer?
- Berlin. - Paul: Sprechen sie Deutsch?
What?
- Do you speak German? - No.
- What the f--? - You don't?
No. Why?
Well, I don't know.
I just assumed, since you spent the summer in Berlin--
I thought maybe you--
No. Berlin, New Hampshire.
Sean's voice: I need to get some more pot.
I'm running out.
And I need to get laid.
Where the fuck was Lauren tonight?
Lara's kind of hot. I could bang her and feel good about it.
I'd rather have Lauren.
I wonder why.
It would just ruin my illusion of her innocence,
her purity.
Whoa!
Is that really what I want?
I need to fuck someone.
Then I need to get more pot.
Paul's voice: I watched him with growing intensity
as he refilled the pipe in the dark and smoky din of the room.
He delicately fingered what looked like dried moss to me,
and it struck me then that I liked Sean
because he looked slutty, a boy who'd been around.
A boy who couldn't remember if he was Catholic or not.
* Whooo... *
* I don't know what color your eyes are, baby *
* But your hair is long and brown *
* Your legs are strong and so, so long *
* And you don't come from this town *
* My head is full of magic, baby *
* And I have to share this with you *
* I feel I'm on top again, baby *
* That's got everything to do with you *
* I'm alive *
* So alive. *
Woman on TV: Suck it harder!
Look at that chick's cans.
- Implants. - I like the feel of fake tits.
( phone rings )
- I need to get cable in my room. - Hello?
Hi, Mom.
- ( turns sound off ) - What's going on?
Sean: You are one dirty bitch!
Paul: Tomorrow? The Jareds are coming?
Oh.
Does it have to be this weekend? I have a lot of schoolwork.
- How about next weekend? - Faggoty sitcom,
- faggoty sitcom... - Paul: Richard?
Okay.
Yeah, you too.
I have to go into the city tomorrow night.
Rock and roll.
- You want to go? - Nope.
"Dressed to Get Screwed Party" is tomorrow night.
I know, and I don't want to leave you here alone.
Deal with it. I'm borrowing these.
Wait.
Would you give me a ride to the bus station tomorrow?
Whatever. Look, I have to meet my advisor.
( woman on TV moans )
Paul's voice: I shouldn't be leaving.
He'll sleep with someone else. It's the "Dressed to Get Screwed Party."
What the fuck am I doing?
I love you, Sean Bateman.
Sean's voice: I wonder if Lauren goes wild during sex.
I wonder if she comes easily.
Or at all. I won't go to bed with a girl who doesn't.
If I can't make a girl come, why bother?
It would be like asking questions in a letter.
Mmmm...
I'm hungry.