I am at some sort of party. In attendance is the guy I'm physically attracted to, though I really loathe his personality most of the time. We're running in to one another repeatedly, doing a flirtatious pas de deux. Eventually, he pulls me close and tells me that he wants me. I remember feeling conflicted about this, so I still must have been with Scott in this dream. Despite my guilt, I follow him into another room, and he shuts the door.

Though I'm in his arms, we've yet to kiss or make any substantial contact when a man walks into the room we're in. I look around for the first time and realize that I'm leaning against a sink. On the wall near me is a row of urinals. I look at him in disbelief. "You took me to the men's bathroom? Seriously?" He shrugs and half-smiles sheepishly, clearly out of ideas at this point. The romantic moment is definitely broken at this point, so I turn and make a beeline for the door, apologizing to the man who interrupted us as I leave. Shaking my head, I silently vow to never let this dude make a move on me again. It's always going to be a comedy of errors, and it's always going to leave a bad afterglow.