As I waIked up to that door, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Unfortunately, one particular thought did not.
I've got five dogs.
Not good, not good.
No! Get back in there.
You're wearing a suit!
Hi. I was just ... ah ...
So, Ted, what brings you back to Brooklyn at 1:00 in the morning in a suit?
I was just hoping to get those olives that you said I could have.
Would you like those olives with some gin and vermouth?
Are you trying to get me drunk?
I think I like your Olive Theory.
I think I like your new French horn.
I think I like your nose.
I think I'm in love with you.
You love me?
Oh, God. I can't believe I said that. Why did I say that? Who says that? I should just go.
Hold on. Wait a minute. I promised you these.
Olives. Yeah. Thanks. I love you. What is wrong with me?
So, when you tell this story to your friends, could you avoid the word 'psycho'? I'd prefer 'eccentric.'
Great. How do I get to the F train?
Oh. Two blocks, that way and take a right.
Thanks. You know what? I'm done being single. I'm not good at it. Look, obviously, you can't tell a woman
you just met you love her, but it sucks that you can't. I'll tell you something, though. If a woman,
not you, just some hypothetical woman, were to bear with me through all this, I think I'd make a damn
good husband because that's the stuff I'd be good at. Stuff like making her laugh and being a good father
and waIking her five hypothetical dogs. Being a good kisser.
Everyone thinks they're a good kisser.
Oh, I've got references.