50 Ways to Leave Your Lover Page #3

and you can get

the hell out of here.

OK. Team.

You were the best nine seconds

of my entire fantasy life...

which is a lot more competitive

than my normal life.

Heh. God, that's funny.

No, that's very, very sick.

No, I mean, that's funny,

because, um...

I fantasized about you, too.

-Heh.

-Ha!

-You did?

-Mm-hmm.

Gosh, what were those like?

Um, they were just, like,

your basic sordid...

wake-up-in-the-middle

of-the-night-sweating...

kind of fantasies.

Hmm. Heh heh.

Oh, sh*t.

Are you OK?

You know, not even close.

Yeah, you know, you seem

a little--I don't know--

manic-depressive or something.

Well, lucky for me,

the airlines don't charge...

for excess personal baggage.

This is the final announcement

for flight 505...

nonstop service to New York.

Damn. Um...that's my flight.

Oh.

OK, well,

call me when you get back.

Sure.

Just walk away and praise God

that you don't have her number.

Wait, Owen!

I almost forgot

to give you my number. Heh.

-Thanks.

-Have a great trip.

Thank you.

Hey, is this flight 505?

Yeah. We just closed the gate.

No, no.

I've got to get out of here.

I have burned all my bridges

in this town.

And even if I wanted to,

I could never go back.

And now, because

your plane was late...

well, I met a woman that

I could fall in love with...

and I'm telling you...

if I don't get

on this plane right now...

I might just call her.

And then what?

I mean,

I could be here for years.

What if the relationship

works out?

Get real. It won't.

How do you know that?

I mean, what if,

by leaving now...

I'm dooming myself

to a lifetime...

of shallow, failed

relationships...

because I'll always be

thinking about her?

Are you getting on the plane?

No, thanks.

Well, better luck next time.

Jesus!

You scared the sh*t out of me.

Sorry. I don't know

what I was thinking...

getting into my own bed

like that.

OK, you can go now.

I'm really sorry. It's just

I thought you were gone...

and you have

a king-size bed, so...

Stephanie, can you please

hand me my underwear?

Get your own.

I don't have anything on.

Well, neither do l.

Look, clear out, a**hole.

She's mine.

OK, Owen,

what the hell happened?

Well...

I met someone.

You came back for a woman?

I know, I know.

Things were going so well.

Well, who is she?

She's a friend of Eileen's.

You came back

for a friend of Eileen's?

Eileen

has horrible, ugly friends.

OK, she was an acquaintance.

We met a few years ago,

only then, she had a boyfriend.

Then tonight, at the airport,

I run into her...

and, of course,

we're both single.

Oh, so she ruined your exit.

Well, I mean,

I can't walk away now...

knowing

she's there and available.

Otherwise, I'll just be back

in three weeks.

Uhh. Do you wear a 32 Hanes?

Oh. Yeah.

So, wait, what are you gonna do?

You're just gonna go on a date?

Well, I have to make sure

that she's wrong for me.

You know, psychologists

say it takes...

at least three months

before the real you shows up.

No, no. I'm putting this

on the fast track.

The real me is gonna show up

the first date...

and I'm giving her the bad news

right up front.

I don't want to be her friend.

I don't want children,

'cause there's already...

too many parents in the world

as it is.

And I have no opinions

about shoes.

Do you really expect her

to go for that?

Well, there's always

that chance.

I mean, who knows where or when

love will strike?

I mean, I've just got

to give it an honest shot.

So, I guess you'll be

wanting your room back.

No, I'm booked on the red-eye

tomorrow night.

Yes, Bucky,

I am still in Los Angeles.

I'm just calling to tell you...

you are a great writer,

Shakespeare.

You could be

another Michael Crichton.

Well, we do both write

about dinosaurs.

Come on,

why do you hurt me like that?

I have nothing

but the utmost respect for you.

What do you say to $5,000?

Bucky, listen,

this is not about money.

It's about self-respect.

I hear you. How about 7,000?

I said no! I quit! Period!

OK, fine.

You're being honest with me.

I appreciate that...

because now

I can be honest with you...

you stinkin' little hack!

I am a--a historical figure,

God damn it!

And I'll show

all you little writer faggots!

Anyone can write a book,

ass-wipe!

Come on. There's no way...

you're gonna bag her

on the first date.

Besides, you've never

gotten laid on a first date...

in your entire life.

See, I am sick of waiting till

the third date to be denied sex.

I'm just gonna say to her,

"Look, we're both adults.

"We both know why we're here,

so let's have sex, tonight."

And if that goes well...

we'll build toward

a nice get-to-know-you lunch.

Maybe you should call

the airport shuttle now.

I hope you don't mind

my calling so soon.

Usually I'd act like I was busy

and wait five days...

but I'm kind of experimenting

with honesty.

Damn, I thought it was

just 'cause I was hot.

-Not...entirely.

-Ha ha!

I mean, for me, brains

and intellectual curiosity...

count for at least

three percent.

So, which car is yours?

Uh...the one

with the light on top.

The taxi?

Yeah, I kind of sold my car.

Oh. OK.

So, you grew up in Glendale.

Yes, I did.

Do your parents

still live there?

Oh, yes.

They're very sweet.

They're just not very exciting.

And what are their names?

Roberta and George. Ha!

I'd love to meet them sometime.

Well, maybe sometime you can.

What are they doing tonight?

I don't know. Why?

Do you think they'd mind

if we stopped by?

I mean, you said they didn't

have much going on. I--

Ha! Why would you want

to meet my parents?

Well, look, you know,

we can have the same old...

how's-the-salmon

first date type of night...

or we could see if

there is any future for us...

and meet your family.

OK, this is insane.

Is it really? Why wait till

date twelve or sixteen...

to find out

if your parents hate me?

If there's a problem,

wouldn't you rather know now?

Heh. Well, they never liked Max.

You see? And where's Max now?

I mean, think of all the time

we could save.

Tick, tick, tick.

Driver, we're going to Glendale.

Wait, l--

Well, we were

in the neighborhood...

so we thought we'd stop by.

This is very weird, dear.

Would you like

some more grape juice, Owen?

Thank you.

This is really great egg salad.

Oh. It's the gherkins.

Now, you know Val from where?

Well, from the airport, George.

I was standing there

last night...

feeling a little depressed...

doggin'

a gin and peach iced tea...

when our eyes met,

and it was like--

you know how dogs can smell

and hear things...

that other people can't?

We were like two dogs...

and there was this scent

between us...

that no one else

could pick up on.

Owen's a writer.

What kind of writing?

Well, I started writing

short stories.

Then I moved to Los Angeles...

where I continued

to build self-esteem...

by lowering expectations

and co-writing autobiographies.

Oh. Any we would know?

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