I don't remember how this started, but I had met some guy and was about to embark on an affair with him. He had just gotten off a bus from a long trip and was carrying a backpack when I ran into him (it wasn't clear whether this was a planned rendezvous, a coincidence, or something planned by me to look accidental). We went into the house where he was staying, which was a big, run-down building, sort of a squat, although of the less squalid sort.
We started Making Out in a PG-13 sort of way, and then he stopped and said, "I'm going to go find the Dial" (as in Dial soap, which neither I nor anyone I know uses--apparently my subconscious is selling product placements now). He didn't seem particularly dirty, but according to the story line he had just gotten back from a long trip, so I guess he felt like he needed some Deodorant Soap. I felt simultaneously annoyed at the interruption and flattered that he thought I merited an odor-free paramour.
While he was gone I came to my senses and realized that I couldn't have an affair with him because I was married and loved my husband and didn't want to jeopardize that, hurt him, etc. etc. So when the guy came back I started laying out all my arguments and reasons why we should refrain from any sort of non-platonic contact (I think there may have even been bullet points). I think he was a little frustrated, because he started trying to demonstrate that my husband wasn't really that good a guy because he had participated, with several acquaintances, in the butchering of a wild hog that had been accidentally killed while they were on some male-bonding adventure.