"Just – imagine what sort of torture he had to go through to realize he loved somebody like you."

She feels a sting of pain, right where it already started to hurt. "Somebody like me?"

"Yeah," he says. "You know. You want to have a boyfriend, but you barely go out and mingle. And when you do find somebody, you go out of your way to avoid them. You are somebody that doesn't want to be loved. It's a strange concept, I know – because, let's face it, every damn person on this earth wants to be loved. That's what they spend their entire lives on, trying to make people love them, and trying to find somebody to love them that unconditional love. But you – you're different. Or maybe you're not. But you try so hard just to make it look like you are."

He turns around then, and starts to leave. But when he reaches the door, he picks something off of her couch. He turns around, holding up a magazine.

"Are you going fishing?"