You invited me to your place for dinner.
I came late in the week, you didn't care.
We were confused and tired
Perhaps you cared for other reasons
You cared that I didn't care.
I didn't know what to think, that you didn't care that I didn't care.
You invited me to dinner.
It was good. It really was good.

You took my hand, and pulled me up your stairs.
In your bed we laid, tangled amongst us.
You began to take off your clothes.
And then soon you began to take off mine.
Soon you were wearing nothing, and me almost the same.
You asked me to get a condom.
I obeyed.
We began, and it began great.
We were in love.

Something isn't right, the position has changed.
I look you in the eyes; you're crying.
"What's the matter," I ask.
"I don't know", she says. "I can't make love to you."
"why, I ask."
"I don't know if I love you."

She puts her clothes back on.
I untangle my clothes and put my own back on.

I smoke a cigarette. She smokes a cigarette.

Thank you for dinner. It was good. (It really was).

I depart down her steps. I come to my place and I climb my own.

I find else to do for the evening.