Alright then, who? Not that it matters. You prefer a
dyke to me? I think that's bull.
Because you're heterosexually biased.
Cut the crap.
You think a woman, given a choice, will always
choose a man.
For sex; that's right.
Well, not in my case.
Oh? Since when! What kinda comic-book cunt-psychology's
got you doubting human nature? Mammals mate, "go forth
and multiply," as in fuck for kicks and kids. I s'pose
you faked those orgasms we had.
No; not all of them.
What! Be serious. You're as straight as P.A.'s stacked.
That's your problem; you think "feminine" equals "tits"
and precious little else. Phoebe asks my opinion.
Listens when I talk. And thinks I'm really smart. I am!
Yeah, right. What's that got to do with sex?
It makes our touching, I don't know, special. We're connected, in a way
that gives me value... as a person, not an
object... like my whole self shares with hers. I mean...
well, all of this is new, Greer. When you rang her bell
this morning I felt guilty...
When I what?
Oh, don't pretend. A woman knows when she's being spied
on. Anyway, having someone watch made me feel icky, like
unclean, like I'd been caught doing something
nasty—which really isn't fair. Not to her or me.
This woman wants me, maybe even loves me; that makes sex
feel great.; not wrong or weird; it's more
You're delusional. And I was NOT
playing Peeping Tom. Do you think I'd watch two
perverts get-it-on as best they could, as if I cared?
You ever you want the real McCoy again, you know
where to find me.