_In a coffeehouse, sitting in a booth, waiting for tonight's movie to start._ ME: What the hell is this movie about, anyway? HIM: I thought you didn't like to know about movies before you saw them. ME: I'm not going to for chrissake saw it, I'm just going to watch it. And besides, it doesn't matter because I'm just watching it with you. HIM: Tee hee. Okay, it's about a girl, a high school senior, very elegant and beautiful and kind of cruel between the eyes, who marries a guy who can't seem to get an erection. He fucks her with a vibrating strap-on dildo, and they're both happy because she gets fucked just the same, actually better, and he gets to see her be satisfied. ME: Hmmmmmm.... HIM: Yep, you guessed it. The whole thing starts to fall apart when she starts wondering what it would be like to be fucked by a guy with his own skin, and to get come inside her, and he starts to wonder if she's really satisfied, or maybe she's going to start fucking around on the side, plus there's the issue of his own satisfaction which he has denied himself the privelege of even considering for several years now. Want me to tell you how it ends? ME: Ah, no. HIM: Very well. But the offer won't last forever. _[smirking wisely]_ ME: Well balls! I'll just watch the godforsaken movie! I don't need you to tell me how it ends! HIM: Good point. Say, does the situation in the movie I just described sound familiar to you at all? ME: No. Should it? HIM: No. I was just hoping you'd tell me something juicy and shameful about your own life, to kind of spice things up here. I'm a little bored. ME: Well. Maybe next time. Look—they're about to start the movie. HIM: Let's go home. _They go home. The drummer is still out there on the sidewalk and ME tosses a dollar into his hat._