Sidewalks of New York Page #3

Okay, how about this?

In exchange for the video now,

I'll give you my phone number.

If you call me later this week,

we'll do coffee then.

But how do I know that you'll

give me the right number?

We are making a deal here.

You're either in or you're out.

I'm in.

Return it on time, so I don't

have to pay the hefty late fee.

You don't know his name,

what he does for a living.

You don't know where he lives.

But you gave him your phone number.

Look, he seems

like a nice enough guy.

We just kinda skipped

the personal stuff.

You are supposed to start

with the personal stuff.

Where do you live?

What do you do for a living?

Like a basic background check.

What if this guy calls you?

You don't know him.

He could be a sexual deviant.

I don't know- Something.

He was renting

Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Hardly the kind of movie the

neighborhood perv would get off on.

Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Okay, well, he's gay.

Did I tell you the ratio between

single, straight, employed men...

...and single, straight women

in this town?

- Yes, many times.

- I did, right?

Okay. So don't get your panties

in a bunch over this guy.

I bet he'd rather redecorate

your apartment than, you know-

Than what?

Than take care of his manly

obligations, that's what.

My name is Maria Tedesco,

and my age is none of your business.

I don't even think

I should be doing this.

All right.

I'm originally

from Staten Island.

Now I live in Manhattan,

which I hate. I'm a teacher.

I'm here, PS-3.

Sixth-graders make more in weekly

allowance than I do in a month.

But I love the sons of b*tches,

so it makes it all worth it.

Maria, it's me, Benjamin.

Can I talk to you?

I'm listening.

I was in the neighborhood,

thought I'd come by, say hello.

This is a really bad habit

you're developing, Benjamin.

Yeah, but I've really been waiting

to see you for a while.

I thought maybe this time

you'd let me in.

I miss you very much.

Let me in. We'll talk.

I promise I won't try anything.

I promise, okay? Please?

I'm Benjamin Basner.

I'm 24 years old,

and I'm from Brooklyn.

My sex life?

- At this point, it's nonexistent.

- Hey, you suck!

At this point,

it's just totally-

Should we start again?

Why do you use the excuse that

you were just in the neighborhood?

- I was!

- You live three blocks away.

- You're always in the neighborhood.

- But I wrote you a song.

I thought that maybe

you want to hear it.

No, see, 'cause I've heard

enough of your songs already.

Don't say that.

I just miss you very much.

- Is that so bad?

- No, it's not bad.

But it's been over a year.

You need to get over it.

You don't understand.

I can't get over it.

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