“Sugar, I am not playing a game. This is serious. I mean to woo you, so shut up and let me do it.”
“Alice, I am the game, and trust me: you don’t want to play me.”
“He was wooing me. And I was letting him woo. I wanted the woo. I deserved the woo. I needed the wow that would surely follow the woo, but for now, the woo? It was whoa.”
“Never again. I don't care what's at stake. I don't care who I have to let down. I won't ever do that to you again. You... or me. I'm done playing their game."”
“Well?”“Well, what” she asked.“Are we gonna do this or not?”… “Do what? Should I whine and complain like the little bitch I am so you can pat me on the head and buy me something pretty to shut me up?”
“Seriously, what the hell does playing the field mean anyway? Am I like some sports metaphor for you? You made it to home base, so now it's time to go to the Superbowl or whatever?”