Backstory: It’s not great for the mood when you realize it’s just not working. That you need to get out the lube.
Even worse was realizing that you were out of lube.
Worse still was the fact you’re fooling around with a tourist on a dude ranch and the nearest pharmacy that’s gonna have lube is an hour away.
(...Good opportunity for some decent road-head, though.)
The worst isn’t even the way that going to buy lube with a guy at 1 AM shows you who he really is, deep down inside, in a way that nothing else really does, and which does absolutely nothing to flatter, conceal, or cast anything being revealed in any kind of favorable light--let me tell you: dating, marriage, the sharing of personal triumphs and tragedies, all will tell you NOTHING about a guy in comparison to buying personal lubricants with him at Ass-o’-clock.
The REAL worst is when you realize you’re horny enough that you’re still gonna hit THAT. ----- Commentary: I’ll admit it.
I regret putting Bobby on the initial list.
I can’t fucking stand Pauly Shore, and he’s, like, the least attractive male in the entire movie.