I'm done. You don't have to worry anymore.
What do you mean?
I'm done. Trying to get you. I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to figure it out, but I promise... I'm done making a fool of myself.
Barney, you haven't been making a fool out of yourself-
It's okay, it's okay. I want it to be okay. So here's what's gonna happen: I'm gonna get us two drinks, come back and comment on the likely size and color of the nipples on that redhead at the bar... with the big, dark nipples... And you're gonna be grossed out, but you're gonna laugh a little anyway, and then you'll tell a funny story about 'that bitch Patrice' at work, but neither of us are gonna say "Hey, how's it going? Good to see you!" because, it really will be good to see you. Think we can swing that?