You like to cook.
I like to make love is what I like.
3 times a week like clockwork.
Sunday morning with the door locked, sent the kids to McDonald's, ate lunch in bed afterwards, whatever was in the refrigerator... pot roast, potato salad.
Well, listen, maybe you'll meet somebody else.
I don't want to meet anybody else.
I want my old man back... in his baggy pants, looking at me over the top of his bifocals.
You can't hold on forever.
Why not?
Because I want you to be happy again.
You know something, Sharon?
I'm sorry sometimes that I stole your add-a-pearl necklace.
Oh, you are, are you?
I haven't thought about that in 22 years, but I'll never forgive you.
Good evening, Mrs. King.
Um...
Um...
I'm a little drunk.
No kidding.
Come on in.
There seems to be something in the way here.
Just your feet.
Oops-a-daisy, Mr. Cox.
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