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Ruby: "Yeah, it was OK."I can tell you right now that they are not going to fuck. That said, it's not like it's going on too much better with Lauren and Sam. Sample patter, from when they lie on the bed and gaze at the screen, which suddenly turns to project an image of each of them holding a dog, facilitating a tight conversation about how they both like dogs. Sam has asserted that it is his dog he is holding in the picture:
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Sam: "Elvis."
Lauren: "What, after the singer?"
Sam: "Well… yeah."There is something so fragile and plain about the horror of human beings trying to get to know each other at the best of times, but that goes doubly so, quadruply so, when they are pale and naked and lying awkwardly on top of a bed. First dates are essentially looking as good as you can possibly look and using light conversation to joust away enough of the edges of the person in front of you to decide whether you want to ever see them again, full in the knowledge that if you do decide to ever see them again you greatly increase the odds of spending the rest of your natural life with them, or at least a few years. A first date is slicing open the small part of yourself where the acceptable version of you lives and offering it like a meaty sacrifice on the table in front of you, occasionally to be told this clean, groomed, good version of you—the fancy version of you, the non-everyday version of you—isn't good enough. First dates are just about taking all your insecurities and fears and scrunching them up into nothing and trying to make enough conversation to play footsie. You are exposing every desperate hope you have ever had in your life in the doomed attempt to not die alone. And these are all doing it in their underpants.
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