“What's your plan to stay out of my bed?”

“You know what, you need to stay out of my bedroom. You have your own.” He smiled. “I know I do. I see it quite often. I just prefer your bed. It smells better.” I made a face. “It smells better? What does your bed smell like? Regret and bad taste?”

“Stay for me. Stay with me. There will never be anyone else. Not in my bed. Not in my life. And not in my heart.”

“Your Plan and the stuff that comes out of my asshole bear a suspicious resemblance to each other.”

“Intent not followed by action is an insult to your design. Decide what you want, create a plan, and get your ass out there!”

“My Carmen," I said (I used to call her that sometimes) "we shall leave this raw sore town as soon as you get out of bed." "... Because, really," I continued, "there is no point in staying here." "There is no point in staying anywhere," said Lolita.”