Robin: Okay, what is going on with you guys?
Marshall: It's the cuff. It turns out that picturing me as a loser musician with a Vicodin addiction and a beat-up van I use to steal copper wire really turns Lily's crank. Who knew?
Robin: Whoa, what... What happened to your wrist?
Marshall: Oh. It's an allergic reaction.
Robin: So take it off.
Marshall: Robin, once you have a child, anything that gets you even remotely close to the possibility of sex is worth a few pus-filled blisters. Better the sores weep than I.