There's No Point Crying Over Spilt Milk

Then, realizing he needed to leave, Oscar straightened up and adjusted his clothing. "Well, I have to go now," he said, reaching for the door.

But Rose, still feeling the effects of alcohol, protested. "Are you just going to leave me here?" she asked, sounding somewhat distressed.

Confused, Oscar turned around to look at her. "What do you mean? You wanted sex, and I gave it to you. What more do you want?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Stay with me," the drunken Rose pleaded, her tone tinged with longing.

"Ah, can't do that."

"Why Not?"

Oscar ran his hand through his hair, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he turned to face Rose. "Oh, come on, It's not like you're a kid" he retorted, his voice filled with sarcasm. 

"But you said you liked me on the phone," she murmured, her heart breaking with each word. "Did you lie to me?"

"You actually believed that? You must be even more gullible than I thought."