Diabolical Dialog

The couple stepped from the resturaunt into the chill of a winter's evening, their meal had been good and the conversation even better. A warm satisfied feeling swept over her as she sat in the driver's seat of the car.
Laughing he says, "You're a sex addict."
Without thinking she reponds, "I know! I can't help it. No, wait, that's not true. I can help it. I don't want to."
In the brief silence that followed she questions how to take that remark. Was he insulting? Was he playing? Was he trying to really point out a character flaw?
"I think," he says "sex isn't that big of a deal anymore."
Comfortable silence fills the car as she navigates their way out of the parking lot.
"I don't think I understand."
"Understand what?" he asks.
"I don't understand what you mean by that. Do you mean you never want to have sex again? Ever?!"
"No that's not quite what I meant."
"Well, I mean, let's face it. I have had lots of sex. I have had lots of good sex. But, really, it's the emotional connection that can make it the special thing that it is. Otherwise, it's just screwing around."
Chewing on his toothpick from dinner and looking out the window of the car he thinks a moment about how to answer.
"Yeah, that's what I mean. I don't know that I want sex just for sex sake anymore."
"Ah..." she replies, " yeah, but don't you think that just comes with age."
"Maybe."
"I like to flirt." She realises after speaking that this could potentially be taken the wrong way. Anxious to clear any misconception about her integrity she hurries on. "I mean, I like to flirt when it's safe. I would never flirt with anyone else the way I flirt with you. If you don't know the person it can be dangerous. It would be inappropriate to so."
"Well, I like a good inuendo just like the next person, but it's subtle. Circumstances have to be just right."
She's thinking to herself, "what the heck does that mean?" Not feeling quite up to the task of uncovering the subtlty of his statement, she drops the subject entirely. Lost in thought she pulls up to a red light.
"You know," he says "this would be a great conversation to dialog when you write."

She laughs out loud, "Um...yeah, right."
"You could do it."
"No."
"Yes you could."
"Okay, from a writer's perspective, dialog is one of the hardest things to do well. I hate, hate, hate dialog. I just can't do it."
He sits quietly and looks out the window, not saying a word, lost in some thought of his own. The light turns green and she starts to drive. Slowly, quietly a smile steals across her face and she drives silently on through the dark.