'One, although he had made a point of showering and vigorously drying beforehand, dripped sweat off the tip of his nose and onto her face as ardently as he dripped his endearments, and seemed genuinely puzzled, even hurt, when she turned away from his kiss. Another, a huge, morose fellow with a gold Pisces chain on his fleshy chest, lay on his back and talked about how the most wonderful time in his life had been when he played football in high school; he was unable to figure out why everything had been so boring ever since. "I bet I know what you was like then," he said, rolling over. "You was one of them quiet types that never went out. And look at you now." There was no malice in his voice; it was a wonderless comment, which made its accuracy all the more depressing.'

--Mary Gaitskill, Trying to Be, from the short story collection Bad Behavior