She asks permission to ask him a personal question, and he charmingly downs his drink before allowing it. "Are you lonely?" Man! You know who needs a little Jesus? Tara. Girl's not right. "...Yes. I am, I am very... very lonely." He is; it's written all over his gorgeous furry face. "How come you don't have a girlfriend?" He laughs, but she's serious: "You're hot, you have a job, you're not a serial killer..." (OR IS HE? HE OWNS GLOVES.) Sam asks her, then, why she doesn't have a boyfriend. This is like watching tennis, only the people are naked. She arbitrarily decides that we're only talking about Sam's life right now, and he looks out into the night. "Yeah, well... I have a hard time opening up, that's all." Tara asks a rhetorical question: "Please, what have you got to hide that's so fucking bad --" he looks at her sharply, taking it let's say less-than-rhetorically, "-- in this fucking town?" But that's not her burden, it's his, and he reiterates he's not going to open up.
"Don't you ever get horny?" (Needs! Jesus!) Sam's half-assed attempt to be scandalized falls by the wayside and he admits that yes, of course, he has needs. "How long has it been since you've had sex?" Sam laughs, after a moment, but I mean, I love this so much, because the acting's so good that you can actually see this plan forming, moment to moment. A boy who can't be heard with a girl who can't really be seen, moving further and further apart; a girl and boy in love with other people, laying themselves open like this, negotiating closer and closer. Like the naked tennis just turned into naked paintball. Trying to score without being seen. He admits it's been a while, and watches her face as she commiserates, and asks how long it's been for her. Eight months and three weeks. They laugh together, noticing the things they have in common: Men and women have been doing this forever. Sam offers her another beer.