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Remember that Bravo show from a few years ago called Significant Others? About very different couples who were all in different stages of their lives, but all of them were in therapy? Really funny, and sharply observed, and well-acted? Well, imagine replacing those things that might have made you want to watch it with a lot of sex and nudity, and blow it up to an hour, and you get this.
So here are the couples. Katie and Dave are in their forties, are parents of two, and have drifted apart, especially in bed. Carolyn and Palek are trying to get pregnant, and it isn't happening, and Carolyn isn't doing a very good job of not getting freaked out about it, which in turn is freaking out Palek. The only couple actually talking about their shit are Jamie and Hugo, the former of whom overheard Hugo make an ill-advised comment at their engagement party, and now doesn't want to marry him unless he'll promise never to cheat on her. I know, some people are so demanding, right? They're all so screwed. The only thing working in their favor is couples therapist May Foster, who has only seen half of them so far, but she seems so compassionate and angelic and understanding that their problems shouldn't stand a chance. Plus she and her husband, both in their sixties, seem to be the only ones on the show with a decent sex life. They’re also the only ones who turn off the lights first, which is appreciated. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Okay, so you know how HBO always tells you what sort of adult content is in the show coming up? This one has that -- with all boxes checked save violence (despite some pretty explicit self-abuse that's coming up shortly) -- followed by a message reading, "The following program contains adult content and scenes of a frank and explicit nature. Viewer discretion is strongly advised." On HBO, it says this. Uh-oh. How am I to type this recap if both hands are occupied by the constant clutching of my pearls?
Especially since we start at a Little League baseball game. One of the main characters, Dave (Tim DeKay, formerly of Carnivale), is out on the diamond coaching the inept pre-teens through some really horrible baseball. Horribly filmed baseball, as well, since his team is on the field and he calls them in right after they fail to get the ball back to home plate in time to make an out. Maybe they just invoked the 15-run rule. This despite the fact that the other team's coach is nowhere in sight. Dave's wife, Katie (played by ex-Profiler Ally Walker), has been cheering the team on from a lawn chair behind the bench. After the game ends, they hug and say they love each other. They look so happy together. There's no more magical moment in a marriage than when you and your kid can share in a humiliating athletic defeat.
In the morning, they're in bed together. Katie wakes up first, giving Dave a look. Nothing happens. I can already tell I'm going to need a macro for that phrase. She gets up to shower, and he says he's going to sleep longer. But as soon as she's gone, he reaches under the blankets in a move that makes it apparent that sleeping isn't what he has in mind. Yes, Dave has decided to throw himself a little party, if you know what I mean, and I kind of wish you didn't. He's getting totally into it, with his eyes closed and his head coming up off the pillow and everything. Katie is about to reenter the bedroom, but she spots this scene before coming in. And she's...not impressed. Her face goes tight as she watches momentarily through the partially open door. And then she closes it rather than confront Dave, or wait for him to finish, or join in, or whatever. Alas, deciding to quit watching isn't an option for some of us. Dave quietly finishes up his "me time." At least if it were premeditated, one would expect him to have the tissues on his bedside table a little more within reach.
One of the other three main couples, Jamie and Hugo, enter a diner for breakfast. They're totally all over each other, and sit together on the same side of the booth. Yes, they're at that stage of the relationship. So I'm surprised to hear that they're already engaged. There's some blather about his mom wanting to provide a cake for their upcoming engagement party, which somehow turns into a conversation about how much his mom sucks. He smiles and tells her not to go to work today instead of getting all offended, which is another sign of what stage of the relationship they're in. Should they really be engaged already? Oh, you don't know the half of it.
Couple number three: Carolyn and Palek, who inhabit a house that looks like the set of a commercial for every upscale domestic product you can think of. Palek is played by Adam Scott, a.k.a. Mr. Rooks the student-molesting teacher on a first-season episode of Veronica Mars. Carolyn's played by a British actress named Sonya Walger, whose credits include some of the worst television of the last decade. Seriously, she was on NBC's Coupling, Mind of the Married Man, The Librarian: Quest for the Spear, and a miniseries of Noah's Ark that in addition to being unwatchable, may have been actual, literal heresy. So I hate them already, and it's not going to get better. He asks how she's feeling, and she says, "Not PMS." She's clearly expecting a reaction from him other than the one she gets, which is to blandly inform her that his dad emailed him again. We get a bit of backstory that tells us Palek doesn't want his father in their life. Carolyn, still stung from Palek not being more excited about "not-PMS," as well as not being more impressed with the slightly mushy American accent she's affecting, advises Palek to contact his father, saying it might help. As in, help with her not being pregnant. What, she's going to do her father-in-law in hopes of getting better sperm? No, actually, she "reasons," "Maybe the kid doesn't want to come until you clean it up." She pops a vitamin as Palek asks if she's blaming their failure to conceive on him. She gives a non-denial denial and snaps, "Fuck it, I'm taking the test." Lady, I'd say you've already failed.
She stomps through their cavernous home to the bathroom, takes a pee-stick out of a pouch she apparently owns for that express purpose, and does her thing. Palek waits quietly outside the door, not saying a word, apparently hoping to ratchet up the tension as far as possible. From where I'm sitting, it doesn't work, but Carolyn might disagree. After a minute, she doesn't say what the results are. She doesn't have to. Among other things, it's a ten-episode season. You know what I love about this show being ten episodes? The fact that ten is less than twelve. Pulling herself together, Carolyn stands, pulls her pants up, and says her sister wants to have lunch with them. "Sure," Palek says, and she leaves. Should they perhaps be talking about this? Or at least flushing? Washing hands, in Carolyn's case? How the hell do these two slobs keep that house so clean, anyway?
So now that we've met all of the couples, it's time to meet the couples therapist, Dr. May Foster. As in, she may foster better communications between these couples? Who named this character, J.K. Rowling? As played by "Calamity" Jane Alexander (no relation to your recapper -- I'm pretty sure there are no "Calamity"s in my family), she's looking at a cover layout for her new book, which is called Bed Dread: An intimate look at the moments between couples that lead to the most common and least talked about disease in America. Most common? Really? I can probably guess what "Bed Dread" is (right, Dave?), but I doubt that it beats out, say, acid reflux. May also has a couple of arty, faceless sex photos to go with the book, and is trying to choose between them. She prefers one of them, and her husband Arthur -- who just entered the room -- likes the other. She says if she could choose a picture, maybe she could finish the book. Hell, she's halfway there, with that subtitle. She gets up to go to work, but her husband wants her to play hooky and stay home with him. "This is why I didn't want you to retire," she says. "This is why I did want to retire," he responds. They're not mad at each other, or anything. They don't even seem to be pretending not to be mad at each other. They kiss goodbye passionately. A couples therapist with a healthy marriage? Someone call the APA. Of course, since they're both in their sixties, I'm sure they've been through lots of bad shit together that I'm somewhat looking forward to hearing about.
Dave and Katie are making breakfast for their two kids, trying to come up with a plan for the day. Might I suggest…baseball practice? No? Okay, never mind. The nameless boy wants to go to a movie, but the girl, Isabella, says he always picks stupid movies. Dave comes to the boy's defense, and Katie asks Isabella what's wrong. Isabella just gets up and marches away from the table without saying what's on her mind. She looks a little young for PMS. Oops, spoiler!
So how did the family resolve the dispute? Separate movies. Dave and their son meet Katie and Isabella in the theater lobby. How did Bella like the movie she presumably picked? "Stupid," she pronounces, and stomps off ahead of everyone. Dave asks if Katie is still planning to meet with someone named Rita. She says she is, and offers to cancel, and he declines, and it's all so very fraught with unspoken meaning, which is good, because if they did speak it, I would care even less than I already do.
Rita turns out to be played by Sherry Stringfield, and she and Katie sit at a restaurant booth talking about some couple who broke up because they stopped having sex and also hate each other. This leads to a whole tedious, circular chicken/egg discussion, in which Rita concludes that couples who stop having sex merely realize that they hated each other all along. "I don't hate Dave," Katie says, and then freezes. Whoops. "Good," Rita nods mildly, after a pointed pause. See? It's not only couples who don't talk about stuff.
Jamie and Hugo's engagement party is at some restaurant they've taken over, and his idea of dressing for the occasion is to button the cuffs on his unironed white dress shirt and pop the collar. Actually tucking it in would be overdressing, as would shaving or brushing his hair. Pretty much the only thing missing from his outfit is having the sleeves tied together behind his back. Later, Jamie is walking along behind a booth where Hugo is sitting and talking to a couple of male friends. "Jamie's the only girl I want right now," he says. Right now? Planning on including that qualifier in your wedding vows, are you? He continues, "I don't know what's going to happen, but whatever does, I'll deal with it. Just because I'm getting married doesn't mean my life's gonna stop." The friend asks if Jamie knows that, and Hugo just gives a douchey shrug and smirk before diving back into his beer. Jamie takes this as her cue to make her presence known, which in turn serves as the cue for Hugo's friends to quickly make themselves scarce. Jamie stands there, glaring down at Hugo, and he reaches out a hand to tell her to sit to him. "I miss you," he smarms, knowing full well he's in trouble and hoping to Eddie Haskell his way out of it. Jamie asks what "deal with it" means, and apparently it means that Hugo turns into a gelatinous ball of panic, judging by his reaction. "Were you sneaking up on me?" he asks, trying to turn it around on her. To Jamie's credit, she doesn't let him. Hugo claims he didn't mean anything by it at all. After an uncomfortable pause, he asks, "Do you really think you're never going to be attracted to anybody else for the rest of your life?" Oh, grow up, you little dickweed. Christ, I'm already so bored with these two.
She's still pissed at him when they get back home afterwards. He follows her into the kitchen, telling her to let it go. Dude, how long was that party? Because he's got another day's growth of beard from the scene. Hugo kisses her and wheedles, "Let's not talk about it." "Why not?" she asks. Instead of answering, he shoves his tongue into her mouth. Because talking makes it harder to make out, that's why.
The relocate to the bedroom. And then they have sex (another macro-worthy phrase, I'm sure). You can see balls and everything from below. And I have to say, if those two actors aren't screwing for real, I don't know where he's putting it.
Morning finds Dave and Katie asleep again, with their backs to each other in what I'm sure is meant to symbolize something much deeper than a mutual wish to avoid inhaling each other's stank morning breath. Dave wakes up to find Isabella standing in the door to their bedroom. "I need Mom," she says quietly. Katie's already up. Isabella dismisses Dave with a glare (he backs off with a crisp nod, recognizing impending "girl stuff" when he sees the signs) and whispers to Katie that she has her period. Yeah, can't get much more "girl stuff" than that. Katie is like, okay, and she gently herds Isabella off to the bathroom down the hall. I still say Isabella looks too young.
And apparently Katie agrees with me, as we see her and Dave dressed later in the kitchen. She's quietly freaking out, since Isabella's only ten. "What am I supposed to do, stick a tampon in her?...It's sickening." Wow, that's kind of harsh. With a furtive look down the hall to make sure Isabella isn't listening in, Dave points out that Bella's nearly eleven, and suggests having Isabella see a doctor. "I'm not turning her period into a circus," Katie says. Oh, why not? It'll give you all something to look forward to every month. Obviously you could use it. Dave asks what they're going to do, then, and Katie says, "Nothing." By which she actually means, "Not make this only my problem," but maybe there's another issue she could pick for that which wouldn't involve their preteen daughter's menstruation. I'm sure there are puh-lenty.
A rushed Palek meets Carolyn outside one of those medical plaza buildings. They greet each other pleasantly enough, he apologizing for his lateness and she presenting him with a coffee, and then they head inside to May's office. Okay, here's the thing. She seems like a really good therapist, at least at this stage, so I feel like I should be calling her Dr. Foster. But then she's going to be doing some pretty intimate stuff at home later that is going to make referring to her by that honorific seem kind of weird. I'm just going to shuttle back and forth with what I call her depending on context, and you're just going to have to keep up, okay? I know you're up for it. Once on the couch, Carolyn and Palek both make a big show of shutting off their cell phones, then smile up at her. "How did it go?" Dr. Foster asks them. Their smiles disappear. Dr. Foster sympathetically backstories that this is a tough one; it means they've been trying for a year. Her advice to them is, "It's crucial that you face this together as a couple." Remember that. Because they won't. Carolyn claims that that's not the problem, which she thinks they've proven just by showing up together. That seems to satisfy Dr. Foster, so she decides to move on to how they feel about not getting pregnant. Carolyn looks like she wishes she'd kept her mouth shut. Dr. Foster asks if Carolyn blames Palek. Carolyn scoffs that she doesn't. May asks if Palek agrees, which is a pretty ambiguous way of phrasing that question. Surprisingly, Palek also does not blame Palek. Dr. Foster asks how the sex is. "Great, always has been," Palek says, which would be more convincing if not for that pause beforehand, and the fact that he doesn't look at anyone in the room when he says it. Dr. Foster asks if he resents the pressure. The answer is no, but tellingly, it's Carolyn who answers for him first.
Smash-flashback to Carolyn coming and finding Palek reading on their bed at home and announcing, "You need to fuck me right now." She says she can feel herself ovulating. "And I want it," she remembers to add, as an afterthought. Palek starts undressing, whining a bit about being treated like a sperm machine. Carolyn chuckles indulgently as she undresses, and says, "Don't give me your feminine side right now. I mean, I love that about you, but right now I just want you to fuck me. So." So Palek says no. "I'm too fucking...removed," he says. Whatever that means. By the way, I'm totally distracted by the view out the bedroom window behind them, which is not so much a window as a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall sheet of glass that looks out onto an autumnal wood and a stream flowing past. This is their backyard. No wonder they want a kid. As Palek starts putting on his shirt, Carolyn begs him not to do this, saying she needs him to be something else now, meaning -- naturally -- a sperm machine. Palek mildly throws it right back at her, meaning he needs her to quit being such a jerk. Jeez, Carolyn, maybe you should get better at managing the baby you already have instead of so desperately trying to make a new one. Oh, well. Better luck month!
And then they're back in the office, lying to their therapist. At least that's one thing they agree on. Dr. Foster totally knows it, too, although she doesn't press the issue. She gives them homework for the week: forget about getting pregnant when they have sex. As they get up to leave, and Dr. Foster sees them out, she tells Carolyn, "time I'll give you a hug." Carolyn laughs, and then tells Palek, in front of her, "Go, let's go." Hey, what's the point of being a renowned therapist if you can't fuck with the heads of your more tightly-wound patients once in a while?
Outside, Carolyn passive-aggressives at Palek, "I'm starting to see who you are under pressure." "And?" Palek asks. "Nothing," Carolyn says. Palek asks why she didn't say that in the office, and she asks in turn why he didn't talk about his father. He calls her on it, and she tells him not to scream, which he's not -- it's just not a library voice. Having started the fight, Carolyn now decides to run away from it, and she gets in her car to head back to work, after having given an unconvincing impression that everything's fine now. You know, I don't happen to believe that you can accurately judge whether a couple will make good parents based on how well they interact with each other. That isn't going to stop me from doing it quietly, to myself, however.
Jamie gets a gratuitous on-camera dressing scene at Hugo's place, then goes into his bedroom, where he's still sleeping. She spoons him from behind and says they need to talk. He seems to think that means, "Push her hand down under the sheets," but that isn't going to work twice in a row. She still wants to know what he meant at the party. Hugo doesn't claim not to know what she's talking about, because all the minimalist dialogue on this show means there aren't a lot of other candidates for which comment she's referring to. He returns to his question about whether he's the only one she'll ever want. "I mean, we're talking sixty years," he says, like it's a prison sentence. She says this isn't about her. Hugo says he wants to start their marriage being "honest about shit." Isn't it funny how often people on TV say "honest" when they mean "asshole for no reason"? Granted, it's more common on reality shows, but since this show purports to be going for unflinching realism, we get to see it here too. Goody. Jamie says she doesn't want to "start a marriage with someone who's telling me he's going to cheat on me." Yeah, spoon time's over. Hugo and his douchey smile claim he's not saying that. Jamie wonders why they've never talked about this, yells, "Fuck you!" and rolls off the bed, flashing quite a bit of ass-crack in the process. Hugo -- who, it turns out, wears boxers to bed -- gives his idea of a big speech: "I want you know everything about me -- who I am, what I believe -- and love me for that. I want you to love me for who I am, not some bullshit ideal." You, know, like monogamy. That kind of bullshit ideal. Not that he has the balls to come right out and say so. Which is odd, because I was sure I saw those very balls just a few minutes ago. "I can't just abandon what I believe," he says, like he's the one who brought this up in the first place and it didn't just spill out as a result of her overhearing him saying something he never would have wanted her to hear. She retorts, "I can't just marry you!" Well, sounds to me like the problem is solved. I think we've all learned something, don't you? Bye, Hugo and Jamie!
Dave's in his car, and he calls Katie from his cell phone, asking what she's doing. "I'm trying to get people to pay me," Katie says from in front of her computer at her home office, so clearly she's some kind of freelancer. I'm totally distracted by the way Dave is driving here. He's all hunched forward in his seat, squinting out through the top of his windshield like he's following a helicopter to work or something and if he loses sight of it he'll be totally lost. He asks what the doctor said about Isabella. She reminds him that they already established that she isn't calling the doctor. She wonders whether the early period is because they gave her too much ice cream, or if it was the soy formula when Isabella was a colicky baby. This is what parents do -- when something goes wrong, they look for a way to blame themselves in a way that borders on magical thinking. Katie will be saying that they let her read Judy Blume too young. I'm just glad I have a boy, and that the only early period I have to worry about right now is thi.s one Dave says he doesn't remember the details -- only the sleepless nights. "Feeding the baby, putting you back to bed," Katie chuckles in rueful agreement. Dave readily admits that he couldn't have done what Katie did, which she appreciates him saying. I think she'd appreciate it even more if he admitted the truth, which is probably that he didn't want to do what she did. Unless he's talking specifically about childbirth and breastfeeding, in which case I must reluctantly agree with him. She asks why he's calling, when he just left. "I miss you," he says. He suggests they have a drink and spend some time together when he gets home that night. "I love you too, Dave," she says indulgently, and he chants "Good" like a big spaz. She says she has to get back to work, and hangs up.
Hugo calls Jamie. He's wearing a tan sport jacket now, and the background behind him is a packed bookshelf, so it looks like he's a college professor. He calls Jamie at work, where she's now wearing chef's whites in a busy kitchen. They agree that they hate this, and he invites her over after work. She says she's going home, because this is a big deal. "Coming over and having sex just isn't gonna do it," she tells him. Hugo looks completely flummoxed by this. Completely out of ideas, he is, like he's literally never considered the possibility of a problem he can't solve with his wang. Jamie hangs up. Hugo's students start filing into the room, and it looks like he teaches at a middle school. Great. While having to live in that apartment on a teacher's salary does explain why Hugo can't seem to afford a razor or a comb, is it really a good idea to give this wandering-eyed douche access to an unlimited supply of teenaged girls?
That night, Dave comes into the house, exhaustedly picking his way around the toys on the floor and complaining about traffic. Katie comes out of the kitchen with her hair down and dressed in girl clothes to ask what he'd like to drink. Seemingly surprised by the question, he asks for a beer. Not the romantic libation she had in mind after their conversation that morning -- you know, the one that indicated there might be some brief respite this evening from the grey, grinding routine of their humdrum existence -- but she rallies and goes to fetch it. Dave parks himself at the table and starts picking at the food. When Katie returns, she says she's glad Dave missed her. Which is her way of checking to see if he even remembers what he said to her this morning, because all evidence is that he doesn't. Dave grins, "I did," but that's apparently all he recalls, because when he realizes the look she's giving him is rather expectant, he wonders what's up. Katie plays it off like she's totally not disappointed, and they dine in silence. So it's kind of like a date, in the sense that she was dressed and prepared and looking forward to it, but also not like a date, in the sense that it was pretty much over after their thirty-second phone conversation that morning.
Palek and Carolyn are having guests over, including Palek's mom. Who is horrible. She's holding forth on Palek's paternal nature, which extends even to herself. "I think the world will be a better place when he can parent his own children," she proclaims. Carolyn assures the table that they'll start trying soon. "Within a year so, right?" "Yep," Palek dutifully agrees, his attention focused on the plate in front of him. Removed much? His mom says, "It's less about the child than it is about your own development as human beings." Everyone politely pretends like that isn't the stupidest fucking thing they've ever heard in their entire lives. Carolyn excuses herself from the table, saying she's going to "do this," by which she ostensibly means dishes and so forth. But then she goes into the bedroom and flops crossways on her back across their bed. Back in the dining room, Palek's mom wants Palek to tell them about Carolyn's sister Mason's new home. I think we'll be meeting Mason in a later episode. I must say, coming off a season of Big Love's cast of thousands, the relatively small ensemble on this show makes for one of its few welcome changes. Palek says about three words, and then excuses himself as well, saying he's going to give Carolyn a "hand." That is not, in fact, all he's going to give her.
He finds her in the bedroom, and gets on the bed with her to commiserate about how horrible his mother is. He kisses her and then asks, "Should we do some homework?" Carolyn laughs. She resists at first, but Palek persists, and she agrees. And then they have sex. My question: How do you turn in this assignment? And can you imagine having to explain that "the dog ate it?" They're being a little noisy, considering they have guests, but Palek is convinced afterward that nobody heard them over his mom's filibustering. Plus their house is fucking huge. They sit up, and as they're dressing, Carolyn asks about Palek's mom's date. "Maybe it's just someone she's fucking. Just kidding," he says with a nervous giggle, like he's worrying about offending his wife with a comment about his own mother after they just had sex. Intimacy issues, much? Flush with their own naughtiness, they run their fingers through their JBF hair, re-dress, and return to the party.
It's bedtime at Katie and Dave's. Katie's in bed with Isabella, listening to her read from a book. Meanwhile, the boy's in their bed with Dave, who's reading him a story about people named Nick and Drake and something to do with getting co--that is, people -- out by noon. Katie comes in to take over, so that Dave can go say goodnight to Bella. Katie picks up where Dave left off. "'You tell Nick that he's got to get all the corpses--' What is this?" Hee.
A bit later, Dave has taken over the book Bella was reading, and he looks over to see that she's fallen asleep. Whispering, he finishes the sentence, and gently touches his daughter's sleeping face. In the process, he notices something above her on the shelf in the background: a box of Kotex pads. Oh, the incongruity.
When Dave returns to his own room, their son has fallen asleep in Katie's arms. Dave schleps the kids off to his own room. And then, a bit later, the parents are getting changed for bed in their walk-in closet, both of them briefly naked together in a tiny space, yet seemingly not aware of the fact; certainly not acknowledging it in any way, right up until they get in bed. After a perfunctory kiss goodnight and a brief moment to watch and see if the ceiling is going to do anything new tonight, they assume their typical back-to-back sleeping positions.
Jamie comes into Hugo's apartment, thinking it's empty, but Hugo is in fact lying on the living room rug listening to his iPod. Even that irritates me. It quickly transpires that Jamie's just there to pick up some stuff. On her way back out, she says she doesn't want the car and that he can have it. Hugo finally realizes that he's getting dumped. "I can't do this without you," he says. "I don't want to do this without you!" Jamie says she knows sixty years is a long time, "But you pussy out every time I ask you what you're going to do about it and it's starting to fuck me up!" Hugo denies pussying out, and Jamie just wants him to say he'll commit for life. "Because I trust you, and if you say it, that's enough." Hugo? Pussies out. Jamie's done with him, even though Hugo insists that he loves her. She shrilly yells that that isn't the issue as she storms out. Hugo grabs his keys and jacket and follows.
Dave and Katie are working on what looks to be a slate sidewalk behind their house. Well, at least they're laying something. Dave pushes a lock of Katie's hair behind her ear, a tender gesture, but one that he makes with a look of almost clinical detachment. Somehow that's what gives her the courage to speak her mind. "We don't do anything anymore," she says nervously. Dave starts getting all avoidant, denying that it's been a year, and saying, "We do in my version of things." The version that takes place in his head, when Katie's in the shower? All he'll say is that he loves her, and that's all that matters. He wants to "leave it alone for a while," since he figures neither of them is going anywhere. "This isn't who I want to be," she says. "You never help me." Dave takes exception to that, and says that's all he does. Katie suggests talking about it. "With someone," she specifies. That sends Dave into a paranoid spiral of horror and panic. "You really wanna do that?" he freaks. "Turn us into a Couple With Problems? That's a slippery slope." Katie points out that they're already on one. David disagrees. So Katie decides that it's time to bring up the hot Dave-on-Dave action she accidentally witnessed the other morning. Dave's embarrassed, as anyone would be, but he tries to downplay it, seeming to realize on some level that Katie's hurting a lot more than he is right now. The dismayed expression on Katie's face shows that it's not working. "You're always saying you're too tired, but you're not too tired," Katie says. "I'm too tired for this," Dave bitches, and decides to try "I love you" a couple more times. When that doesn't work, he snots, "Too bad that's not enough," and goes inside. "Oh, such bullshit," Katie hisses to the empty yard. And now they're not even laying sidewalk together any more.
We rejoin Hugo and Jamie in the car, which is pretty new for Jamie to have just given up her share of it, however they got it. They're driving around aimlessly so Hugo can continue to make his case. He thinks she's mad at him, but she's really just sad because, as she says, she doesn't know him. Funny, I wouldn't think that's a reason to be sad at all. Hugo says she does, and he pulls over in some vacant lot somewhere. "One stupid, dumb comment doesn't stand a chance against who we are," he insists. Jamie calls his remark a "belief" -- which, after all, is what Hugo said before -- but Hugo still wants to back away from his earlier position. "I was pissed because you were pissed and I wouldn't let it go," he says. Jamie looks like she wants to believe it, staring out the windshield as though for a sign. So Hugo gives her one: "I will never fuck anybody else," he promises. There, was that so hard? Well, it's enough for Jamie, even though Hugo is transparently telling her what she wants to hear. And then they have sex. Right there in the driver's seat, in the middle of the day. How they keep from accidentally blasting the horn is beyond me. What would be even better is if they somehow triggered the airbag in the steering wheel at a crucial moment and then could never have sex with each other again without a hand grenade under their bed. Afterwards, Jamie is too ecstatic and relieved to notice the trapped, panicked look on Hugo's face. Don't get married, you idiots!
Carolyn has gone in for an ultrasound, by herself. I guess since she already did her homework for the week, she figures she can ignore the "go through this as a couple" advice. The doctor operating the wand compliments Carolyn's "beauuutiful" uterine lining, and notices that there's a small follicle on her left ovary. "What?" Carolyn demands in near-panic, as though the doctor just told her that the ultrasound wand is wired to explode. The doctor assures Carolyn that the follicle will dissolve. "All it means is that you probably had two eggs this month," she says. "Are there a lot of twins in your family?" Carolyn says no, and the doctor says Carolyn's mommy-parts are all good to go. "Wait, so is it my husband?" Carolyn demands, sitting up on the table once she's free of her ultrasonic invader. The doctor says she can't know without having a look at Palek's little guys. Carolyn asks about insemination, and the doctor says Palek would bring in a deposit. "We spin it, wash it, bring it up and inseminate." But Carolyn isn't talking about her husband -- she's obviously already prepared to leave him behind, and is talking about using donor sperm. Without blinking, the doctor says it's the same procedure. I'm kind of amazed that Carolyn can treat Palek this passive-aggressively when he's not even in the building.
Carolyn is paying at the front desk when Palek calls on her cell phone. She lies that she decided to get a massage. Well, an inside massage, maybe. Palek wonders why she did that in the middle of the day, and she says it seemed like a good way to start her lunch hour. "And it was empty, which you know I love," she adds. Palek is calling from the construction site that will be her sister's house, which is currently still studs, with insulation in the outer walls. "Your father hasn't paid me yet," he says. Carolyn bitches that their dad is going to pay not only for Mason's house, but for her wedding as well. Palek asks if he should call, and Carolyn says she'll call the accountant. Palek thanks her. Would he be so grateful if he knew Carolyn had decided to start investigating their fertility issues on her own? I guess we'll never know.
Katie loiters outside the building where Dr. Foster has her office, sipping from a paper coffee cup. There must be a shop right nearby, and it's likely doing huge business without even realizing how much of its clientele is using the products as a substitute for something else. Cut to Katie in Dr. Foster's office, finishing up with giving her basic history. "I was sixteen," she says in answer to a question that we've arrived too late to hear. When she got her driver's license? Yeah, that's probably it. She's clearly uptight and hurting. "So, what's going on?" Dr. Foster asks in a crisp, confidence-inspiring way. Under Dr. Foster's questioning, Katie says she's worried about her marriage, since they're not having sex, although she lies that it's only been a few months. She smiles a bit when she answers Dr. Foster's question about David's name, which has to be a good sign. But she says that he didn't want to come because he thinks it'll make everything worse: "Once we become this couple in therapy, we can never go back to being who we were." "He's right," Dr. Foster says, and asks if Katie's okay with that. Katie doesn't know. She wants Dr. Foster to help her get him here. Dr. Foster laughs gently, and says she doesn't think she can make Dave do something that Katie can't. Katie looks disappointed.
Dr. Foster tables that for the moment, and asks what Katie wants. Fighting back tears, Katie says she wants to be close to Dave again. She misses feeling like she's "in it with someone," and thinks having sex will do that. "Are you willing to be here without him?" Dr. Foster asks. Katie asks if that's allowed, and Dr. Foster assures her that she wouldn't be the only wife -- or husband -- in couples therapy alone. "I feel shitty," Katie admits, setting up Dr. Foster's speech. Dr. Foster assures her that it'll be harder on Dave, and proceeds to explain why: Dave will want to know what his wife and her therapist have been talking about, and be upset that they've been talking about him in his absence. "And then," Dr. Foster predicts, "sooner or later, he'll come in here just to let me know how unfair it has been. And then we'll start the other part of the process." Dr. Foster proceeds to quiz Katie about what she's been doing sex-wise in the meantime. Katie claims nothing, and she's getting increasingly freaked out by this beautiful, smart, clear-eyed, silver-haired woman asking her increasingly personal questions like whether she has orgasms. "Yeah," Katie finally lies. At least I think she's lying. She looks like she's lying. Any guesses what Katie's first homework assignment will be?
Palek and Carolyn snuggle on the couch, she making the obligatory comments about the endless TiVo "bleep-blooping" he's making, which are so very timely here in 2002. He eventually lands on a boxing match (good to see that HBO's continued efforts to pretend that boxing is still a huge fucking deal has encroached into its actual shows), and something about the sight of muscular men in silk shorts hitting each other seems to put her in the mood. Her hand goes to his crotch, and they make out for a bit, and she says, "I want to see it." And then Little Palek is free. At least we're supposed to believe it's Little Palek. From this distance and angle, it looks like Carolyn's just holding a raw bratwurst over his crotch. Palek lets his head drop back against the back of the couch, meaning Carolyn doesn't have to fake amorous interest in what she's doing any more. Focusing on the dong like she's sawing a two-by-four, her diligence pays off in no time; soon she's got herself a warm, slippery handful of Palek-juice. She examines them closely, rubbing her fingers together thoughtfully as if looking at them with the naked eye under low lighting is going to tell her anything helpful. Does she just plan to walk back into that fertility clinic tomorrow, hold out her sticky fingers, and go, "What's wrong with them?" We already know she's not a big hand-washer. Unfortunately, the scene ends before she can make some passive-aggressive jibe directed at her hand, telling Palek's little guys just how inadequate they all are.
Meanwhile, Dave and Katie are also watching TV, and he seems to be out to break some kind of speed record for proving Dr. Foster right. As promised, he's all righteously offended that she won't tell him more about what happened at the couples counseling session that he refused to attend. "Why do you care so much?" she finally asks. He doesn't have an answer for that.
Later, in bed, he asks, "If we have sex, will all of this stop?" Yes, it's just that simple. "Maybe this is all I needed to know how much it really matters to you," he says, climbing on top of her unresisting yet also unresponsive form. "Don't," she says quietly, and he rolls back off. Instead of realizing that she's not going to let him fuck her just to prove a point, he comes to an epiphany: "You want to lay this all on me but it's you, too," he tells the ceiling in amazement. Katie doesn't deny it. And then they don't have sex.
Meanwhile, May gets into bed with her husband, kissing him tenderly and laying aside the book he's been reading. He removes his glasses and turns off the bedside lamp. But there's still enough light to see her traveling south, as the first music of the episode starts. After a moment during which we can't help wondering just how short Arthur's torso actually is, she smiles up at him, proud of her fluffing work. And then they have sex.
The song continues. Early morning, Hugo and Jamie sleep in their navy-blue sheets, spooning with him on the right. Palek and Carolyn sleep in their brown ones with horizontal cream pinstripes, also spooning but with him on the left. Dave and Katie also sleep in their lighter brown sheets, the tops of their heads touching. Progress!
Black screen, followed by the title and the credits that normally go at the beginning of an HBO show instead of the end. Which shows a pretty unwarranted level of confidence that everyone was going to sit through the whole thing, if you ask me.