Which is number one on the list of things that completely suck about boys, and something most guys never outgrow. Did you see that movie (500) Days Of Summer? Two vastly different films depending on who you're talking to. If you asked a sane person about it, they would say it's about an immature, slightly gay dude who tries to force every woman into an impossible romantic box that they can't possibly inhabit in order to prove something about himself. If you ask a boy, he will tell you that it's about a girl who's almost perfect, but turns out to be a whore and a bitch.
Boys like Andy fall in love a million times a day, because they have no idea what love actually is. They think love is sitting around doodling your name on their notebooks a hundred times and doing weird magical spells and making stupid annoying scenes to prove their love. They think love is conquest and perfection and dancing in the plaza and wonderful coincidences, and it's waiting around every magical corner and one day they will find it in that split second that they're not obsessively looking for it, like some kind of trick being played on them by God, but that's just romance.
Love tears you apart like a lion. Love is the difference between fair Rosaline and deadly Juliet, or Clementine before and after. It isn't something you look for and it's certainly not something you beg for, because it roars into your life like a hurricane and rips you open and puts you back together slightly better. Which is not something those boys can contemplate without shitting themselves, because they're perfect the way they are, so they mumble creepily to themselves about how you don't get it/are heartless/a whore/a bitch for not giving in to their dream fantasies of what connecting to another person is like, which really just amounts to giving them a way to connect to themselves. There is nothing as gross as realizing you're the six-foot mirror to a door inside somebody else. There is no burden so heavy as the selfish, twisted, imaginary, self-obsessed love of a squealing romantic, or the screaming burning way it goes sour when they don't get what they want. It makes me want to vomit.
Celia chooses this moment to call Nancy for help: she's gotten cornered at a payphone and the weird-looking cop is getting closer. Nancy offers to hang up on her, but she's intrigued by Celia's insane story of drinking too many lattes and getting chased by the cops. "Just tell me! Where do I hide out when the heat is on? Home, a motel? Mexico?" Nancy says that Mexico, at the moment, is not recommended. "I'm not going back in the slammer!" Celia howls, and Nancy asks her if she considers friendship a fundamental part of true love. "If you want my help, answer the fucking question." She can't, she's busy, the cop is getting closer. "Wrong answer. Have fun in jail." Nancy hangs up, and Celia runs off into a parking lot looking ever more insane. Cesar takes them up to the 11th floor, where Esteban is now being held for questioning.