[at a strip club:]
Ted: I can't even open her bedroom door anymore. Why do I have to be so sensitive?
Barney: I don't know, bro. Look at me and that Quinn chick. You don't hear me prattling on about how beautiful her smile is, how her hair is like a waterfall of honey-colored silk, how her eyes are like a warm South Sea kissed by the fire and gold of sunrise. I don't even remember what she looks like.
Ted: Dude, you obviously like her.
Barney: Can't you read between the lines, Ted? I obviously like her. How did this happen to me? When did I become such a gooey romantic?
Ted: Look, I think it's healthy that you have real feelings for a woman instead of just seeing her as an object. Switch?
Barney: Sure. [snaps fingers]
Ted: But why Quinn? I mean, you spent one night with her, and she was kind of mean.
Barney: We just connected. Emotionally, intellectually, spiritually.
Ted: So, mind-blowing sex?
Barney: Mind-blowing sex! For an hour afterwards, I couldn't uncross my eyes. Which was awesome, because
when I went back for seconds, it was like having a three-way with twins.
Ted: So... call her.
Barney: I would if I knew how to get in touch with her, but I can't, and it's driving me crazy. Everywhere I look, I see her. I see her walking on the street; I see her shopping in the store; I see her dancing on that pole.
Ted: I see her dancing on that pole, too.
Barney: Oh, my God, that's Quinn.