Original subtitles

Previously on "You Me Her"...

And she says that my voice

is like nails on the chalkboard of her soul.

- Am I your first patient? - Brian, I quit.

What's going on at Will and Marty's house?

- Oh, that's Binge Club. - Binge Club?

All the stay-at-home parents meet up at Marty's

bingeing the latest and greatest TV shows.

- I want the job. - Helping entitled rich kids with their faux damage?

Oh, I have one condition.

I just need you to admit one student.

Her name is Sasha, and she was homeless

up until two months ago.

Nathan went through a nasty divorce,

and I figured I could give him some support.

She cheated on me.

- Yeah, that happens to the be... - With my brother.

And I'm just trying to purify myself

so that someone might love me.

All I learned is that I loathe listening to people

- whine about their problems. - You like telling people what to do.

Why not do that right here?

You dole out the advice, I dole out the drinks.

- It's the perfect hook for this place. - You'd really do that for me?

Babe, it's win/win. Yeah. Oh!

Great. Thank you.

- Thank you. - So, what's good, sweet child o'mine?

Seems as though this high-school counseling gig is gonna stick.

Made it two weeks without getting fired,

which means my name is going on the mortgage.

House is just as much mine as it is Jack and Emma's.

That's great, Iz.

You're... You're goin' all in.

Yes. I'm giving your rehab wisdom a shot,

- you know? Trying to love their life. - Good.

And with Emma on a break, I think they actually need me

- to get the loan, as hilarious as that sounds. - Great.

- Well, that must feel good, to be needed. - Yeah.

I mean, Emma keeps repeating "our" and "we" about the babies,

you know, making sure I feel equal.

Dear God, the heartless shrew.

Well, she left a Google search up on her laptop:

"Tri-custody."

It just feels like this is all about softening the blow

for when they tell me they definitely don't want any more kids.

- It's a lot. - Yeah.

Let's, uh, go for a walk.

- Yeah. Walk it off, as they say, hey? - Gotta get to work.

- Yeah, walk this way. - Walk it off.

- Okay. Ready? - Yeah.

- Oh, my... my eyes! - Okay, okay.

- Sorry. - Honest, guys?

I'm, uh, installing the soap dispensers today

if you wanna wash your eyeballs.

You know what? Good on you.

Soak it up while you can, because guess what.

One day real soon, it'll be all about morning sickness

and mortgages and... and block parties

and fucking kale.

Okay? There's so much kale.

Like, where has it been all this time?

I'm having nonstop skeletal tremors, and I do not hate it.

- Oh, are you? - You're welcome.

Ugh! Sonofa...

I'm glad somebody's enjoying all this sex.

Emma's biologically occupied with little Jizzy and Jemma.

Meanwhile, having sex without her

while she's there just feels super-weird.

Jesus.

I've heard worse names on "Teen Mom Appalachia."

- Bye, Shaun. - No, I don't get to hear any more

- about Izzy's sad life? - Bye.

No.

She's gotta leave the house at some point, right?

Oh, she did join this daycare co-op down the street.

She abducted Carmen's kids so they'd let her in, so...

Oh, problem solved: Just text Jack,

pull a naughty nooner, ooh, la, and la.

- Yeah. Uh... - Hmm?

Oh, God. You guys are lame.

Seriously, you need poly therapy.

You're like the deaf leading the blind leading the stupid.

C'mon. That's not a thing, "poly therapy."

Hey, Siri, find, uh, "Poly Therapists, Portland."

Here's what I found on the Web for "Poly Therapist."

Hm. Oh.

- There's 8 of 'em. - Stop looking so smug,

chick-who-tossed-away eight-years-of-education-

five-minutes-into-her-fourth-session.

- Oh! Oh, no, you didn't! - Yeah, I did.

- All right, I'm still a therapist, okay? - Mm-hmm.

In fact, you're, uh... You're leaning on my office right now.

- What? - Mm-hmm.

Mm. Yeah, give me $5, and I'll cure you right up.

No, I'm serious. Give me $5.

I don't know why I do this with you.

Honestly, every time, it's like...

- I don't have a $5. - Yeah.

I'm a hot female bartender under 30.

- People tip me for existing. - Go on, then.

Um, polyamory by its most fundamental definition rejects monogamy.

Well, duh.

Yeah, I mean, you guys are what is derisively known

- as "polymonogamists." - That's a thing?

Uh, according to the preemptive Portland poly authority,

you guys are trying to jam your pervy, triangular-shaped peg

into the round hole that is suburban monogamy,

and you're doomed to break one, the other, or both.

You're so dumb.

- That's, like... - Dumb?

So...

- dumb. - Well said. Scathing.

Very convincing.

- Mm-hmm. - Mm.

"Polymonogamy." That's so...

dumb.

Emma.

- And Emma's practice kids! Hey! - Hi!

- Mwah! Mwah! - Mwah! Mwah!

- Oh, okay. - Hey, kiddies.

Okay. Go play, girls.

Madame President!

Oh, me?

It only took her two weeks to get elected to a position

- we didn't deem necessary until she showed up! - Oh!

- Thank you. Thank you. - So impressive!

Oh, my gosh. I am...

I am so flattered. Thank you.

Shiraz for everyone, yeah?

- Yeah. - Cool.

I accept.

Come on. Is there a place in this building

that you haven't prepped for spontaneous sex?

- Gross. - Dude is seriously next-level,

which is obviously awesome, but also terrifying

in ways I don't even understand.

Really? "Strut"?

Seriously? God.

Even his antiperspirant is cocky now.

So, Shaun's now suddenly your boss and a sex ninja

while you're stuck in your quarter-life crisis goop.

That's a big-ass shift in the power dynamic. That's rough.

No, that guy worships the ground I walk on, okay?

And rightfully so, I might add.

I don't know. He's been twinkling

like a ginger-hued shootin' star these days.

Well, even suns become big, black empty holes.

Yeah, until they gradually devour everything around them.

- Comfy, right? - Yeah, it's nice.

Yeah, it's nice. It's, um... It's one of our special places.

- Gross! - We really broke it in.

Okay, well, I'm just gonna hurry up and burn these clothes

before I have to meet Nathan. We grab smoothies before work, okay?

- Alert TMZ. - Mm.

Aren't you two gettin' real chummy real fast?

Whatever.

He helped me, so I'm helping him.

I give him "homework assignments"

to pop that post-divorce stick out of his ass.

Like, this morning, he has to order a smoothie with a stupid name.

And how cute is that?

Stop making it something it's not, okay?

He's a wounded bird. He just needs a friend.

Interesting. And does he also dig pizza and downtown?

Does he, um... Does he want precisely three children?

Zeppelin over Stones?

At least one of those things is true.

- You're test-driving him, hmm? - Neen?

Neen?!

Master's calling.

You better go.

Oh, boy.

Hey. I should probably lead with the fact

that I sold our children.

Closet didn't work out.

Made an executive decision.

Wow. Okay.

Well, can I say this now that they're no longer in the picture?

They were too loud.

So much unmotivated vocalizing.

And they don't know anything about anything. They don't read.

They don't travel. They're... They're useless at trivia night.

I'm still in bed, by the way.

Oh, you masturbate to "Fluppies"?

- That's not weird. - I hadn't thought of that yet, but no.

I'm trying to re-create the last time inspiration struck.

I'm confident the second book

is at the bottom of this glass of Rosé. I can feel it.

- Oh, well, I'm happy one of us gets to... - I miss you.

- Really? - Yeah.

I mean, I might be a little morning drunk,

as it is commonly known.

But is it? Is it really?

I just can't stop thinking about you.

Or the kid or home. You know.

Or you.

Dave, I have a...

I have a confession.

It's been...

really hard watching you live your best Chrissy Teigen life

while the local diddly-fuck journalism association

won't even toss me a craft shop plaque.

Getting beat out by Oregon Poultry Life

is a hard chicken nugget to swallow.

Really? Poultry Life, chicken nugget,

hard to swallow?

Nothing? Dave? Are you still there?

Honey! My... My breakfast dessert is here. Will you please hold?

Please hold. ♪ Ba-da-bup, da-da, bup-ba ♪

♪ Ba-dup, ba-ba-ba, be-bup-bup ♪

Hm.

Breakfast dessert. Yeah.

Love breakfast dessert.

Oh, my God.

I'm broken.

I can't with this show.

- It broke me. - Ugh!

Actually, if everyone could just put down their

"Who We Are and Who We Aren't"

discussion binders for a minute, I have, um...

Ooh! I have something important to say.

First, thank you for making me your president.

- And as president... - Polly likes to say president.

Bawk! Polly likes to say president.

Very clever, Will. I will never tire of your parrot jokes.

Anyway, I always assume that as "stay-at-home moms,"

you'd given up on your dreams, your careers,

proper fashion, fitness...

but I realize I didn't know "Who You Are" at all.

And, today, when Sebastian revealed...

When Sebastian revealed to Chloe

that he wore those off-brand polo tops

because his deceased wife bought them...

Rest in peace, Agnes!

- I can't believe it. - ... I realized how judge-y I'd been.

And I owe you all an apology.

I have gotten to know each and every one of you,

and I see how truly unique and accomplished you are.

Michelle.

I always thought those homemade relish trays

you brought to every single neighborhood event

was a little bit tired, but I had never tried it.

Your cranberry-pickle next-levels a Brie like nothing else.

Audrey.

I thought your choice of Crocs

for the Christmas party was...

well, frankly, a call for help.

But I now realize that plantar fasciitis

is the price you paid for late nights

walking the halls with a colic-y baby

and those long days petitioning

for that life-saving "Slow Children at Play" sign,

which, you know, could be misinterpreted. It probably is.

But most definitely saves lives.

Yeah. Needs a comma.

Do something. She's going full Kanye.

- Well... - You've all been so helpful

and welcoming with "my" kids.

And my version of success was too tied up

in titles and money,

- and I really... - Money and titles!

That is a wonderful speech.

- That's what you need to be. - Whoo!

- I... I... I was just getting started. - We know. We know.

- We're just... It's... - Thank you.

We're just gonna go to the next episode now.

Uh, my name.

Mike.

Ahk.

Yep.

Okay.

Thank you.

- See? You survived. - Yeah.

Her disapproval gutted me.

You know, I have four meal subscriptions

because the cold callers were all woman I didn't want to disappoint?

Okay, so...

Your next "Izzy-Does- Hawthorne" assignment.

- Mm-hmm. - Organize a suburban gathering.

- Oh. - Block party, uh, baby shower,

clam bake, your call,

but there must be at least three mayonnaise-based salads...

- Mm. - ... and I will need to see

the aggressively dorky E-vite.

Mm-hmm. I assume you'll be in attendance

to verify that it's all suitably humiliating?

Uh, I'll show up if... if you promise

to get the, uh, Housewife Wedge with that lump in...

on the crown, yeah.

- Well, the joke's on you... - Oh?

... because I've always wanted that haircut.

- Oh. - Also, I'm already planning

the EJI Anniversary Party, so...

- Edgy? - Yeah, EJI.

- Hmm. - Emma-Jack-Izzy.

- Oh. - I have a tattoo on my ass. You wanna see it?

No. No, because that, you know.

Uh, I can't believe I'm saying this,

but, uh, I don't need evidence of your poor choices.

You kind of radiate their collective sum.

- Shut up. - Ow.

My Cock?

Thank you.

Your next assignment

is inappropriate day drinking before 5:00 p.m.

Uh, you do know I am the vice principal

of a very prestigious private school, right?

- Right? - Well, we work exclusively with teenagers.

So how is that not a reason to drink?

Fair.

- Mm... - All right, come on, Mike Ahk.

That's my name!

You feeling it? You feeling it?

There's a dead animal on the wall.

Straight razors, strong black coffee.

Upstairs there's a tequila bar/boxing club.

- Made a reservation. - Mm.

If there was an aerial photo of this place,

it'd be shaped like a turgid penis.

Or should be.

Uh, coffee. Black.

I'll have a medium roast, if you have it.

Light and sweet.

Also, agave, 'cause I usually have...

Um, anything but stevia,

'cause that really makes my stomach turn into... What?

Um... do you not...

- Mm. - Uh, black is fine.

- Yeah. - Yeah. Yeah, that's cool. Just black.

Well, this Nathan dude clearly isn't the solution

to your inability to relate to other men who aren't equally effeminate.

Nathan's a good guy. He just needs an ear and a shoulder,

and I happen to have two of both.

That's the problem right there: We're not "women."

We don't "listen" to each other.

We wage battle until we know the sweet peace

of occupying our rightful place in the hierarchy.

That's what we do. Right?

You know, this joint may be hipster bullshit,

and this guy's attempt to stare us down laughable...

Excuse me, pal? You wanna go a few rounds?

So fucking much. Let's do it. Wanna do it?

Let's do it. You wanna fucking do it?

Well...

- I'm working right now, so... - Thought so.

Damn.

Punk's like 25 and works out.

He could take me without breaking a sweat. It's just all about these.

I know. You have an intimidating face.

- Just like this, right? - Yeah.

But hold on a second. See them?

- Yeah. - Right?

You know, Dad used to do that.

Mm.

I just want, like, someday,

for my girls to see me be able to do that, you know?

I've been thinking about Dad a lot lately.

- What? - What? What what?

No. What?

Just...

he was such a cool guy, you know?

Like, he could just attract friends like flies.

Every weekend, the basement was packed.

How do you become a guy like that?

For starters, no more Nathan. That's one.

Ehh. Well, he's hanging out with Izzy more, anyway.

They've been working together for like two weeks,

and they're already giving each other "homework assignments."

- Ooh! - She's making him less pathetic,

and he's making her more suburban, so it works out.

How playful.

A little back and forth, a little note passing.

Fuck you. They're just friends.

Yeah? Like "Harry Met Sally"?

Like those kind of friends? How'd that end again?

Mm, I don't know. I don't watch Rom-coms,

- 'cause I'm not a girl. - Nice. Well played.

- Yeah. - Yeah. Well, learned from the best.

Nathan and I went to this...

- You're gonna love this. - Okay.

It was an all-male "emotional recovery circle."

You know, "emotional recovery groups"

are part of the plot by women

to make all men their gay best friends,

- and that's the truth. - You sound like Mom.

And Alex Jones.

But mostly Mom.

Yeah, well, you know Mom was trying

to help you the only way she knew how, right?

Okay. Says the guy that she refers to as her only son.

What is it? What is that look?

- What? - You're... Pshh!

What is up with these expressions

of flickering humanity that I'm seeing in your face?

It's really throwing me off.

Trakarsky and Trakarsky, you're up!

Hey, you ready to let me knock some man into you? Hey?

Oh, no. Hey, you serious? You thought we were boxing?

I'm going home for a nooner with Izzy.

- What? - Yeah. Well, technically,

it's an after-school special. We're trying to figure out if we can

have sex in twos.

Well, I'm sure that made sense to you.

It does.

Anyway, good luck. Maybe you can punch yourself in the face

- and knock some sense in yourself? - Ooh!

- And he leaves with a bang. - Zinger!

All right, nice.

Hi. It's Emma Trakarsky.

Please leave a message, your number,

and I will call you back.

Hey, Em, it's Gabe.

We need to talk.

So, it's your protégé's first day?

Yeah. I'm actually kind of nervous for her.

- Hey! - Hi.

- Hey! - Hi!

Oh. Dang. You are the most popular girl in school.

Well, it makes up for my actual high-school experience. Hey!

Where the jock chicks called me Dizzy Silva

and dumped slushies down my back, so...

- Hey! - Huh.

Freaks, geeks, and cheerleader villains?

Kind of a tropey adolescence, Iz.

That's Dr. Silva to you, Gabriel.

Ohh-kay.

For the record, I'm not stoned,

but is she walking in actual slow motion?

Excuse me.

I'll, um...

Orientation.

My office. Now.

- Ow! - Hello.

Sit down.

Orientation is quite the set things...

Okay, so, here's the dealio, okay?

We're gonna go ahead and tone down this lovely ensemble

from the Shirley Manson Kmart collection,

and please tell me that this anime hair is temporary.

Izzy. I really appreciate

everything that you have done for me,

but New Girl Status has a shelf life

of roughly two weeks, so it's ride or die.

What are you talking about?

Hawthorne is chill, so you chill.

I'm digging the groovy intolerance-for-intolerance vibe,

but high-school hierarchy is eternal and real,

and it's comin' for me.

I don't have a response for that, so, just, whatever.

Find somebody to be your ambassador

and show you around, okay?

Hey.

I was just coming in to pick up this month's Off Campus Pass.

You've never done that before.

You know, I'm an off-campus kinda guy.

Always doing cool off-campus kinda stuff.

Hey, are you the new girl? I... I didn't see you come in.

Oh, hey. Off Campus Guy, right?

- Yeah, New Girl. - Oh, my God. Just show her around.

Yes!

C'mon, handsome.

Sasha. Just... Mm...

Okay, Sash...

That doesn't even make any sense.

Hey, babe!

Is it me, or do these kick-ass new glasses

scream out for artisanal hot dogs?

Babe, do artisanal hot dogs exist,

or did I just come up with my new business?

You know what? That is it, mister!

What, did something bad happen to you involving high-class wieners?

Just because you're suddenly an entrepreneur

with a magical penis doesn't mean

that you're the new sheriff in town. Capisce?

Not in the slightest. No capisce-ing over here.

Get me a beer! Now!

Is that clear enough?

You... You were serious?

- You actually named the bar "Therapy"? - I actually did.

And you're the star attraction.

Huh.

Ahh! Oh.

- Mm. - Mm.

Getting good, huh?

Firm. Yet gentle.

What? Uh...

What's going on here? What's with that face?

How... How's that?

Uh, you named the bar after me, you just fetched me a beer,

and now you're massaging my feet, so...

- what's with the cocky demeanor, huh? - Uh...

Oh, God.

Oh, God, you're topping me from the bottom.

- Am I supposed to know what that means? - Oh, please!

That's street-level S&M

for a slave who subtly and insidiously seizes control!

I'm onto you, Topper.

I mean, how did I not think this was gonna get weird?

Up here, we got the "Contour Club."

If you could see through their eyes, we're not even here.

From there, we've got the approachable J-Law version,

"Chill Chicks." Running laterally, we've got the "Meme Trash,"

and the "Woke Pixie Girls."

Then we have the "Sporty Spices," the "Cybergoths,"

and, finally, "The SadGirlz."

And, uh, sexually, it's best not to identify with anyone or anything.

Oh, I actually did my homework on this one.

Basically everyone's pansexual now, right?

So fucking cool.

Yeah, #MeToo.

Sorry. Appropriation foul.

Get woke.

You're pan?

Some people don't see color. I don't see anything.

Not like I'm legally blind. I just... I...

Uh, yes, I'm pan.

Really?

- Cool. - Yeah, it is.

Hey, Alex! What's up?

Oh. Gabriel, right?

Always joshing, this one.

That's... That's why we call him the Josher.

Yeah, it's... it's a bit of a placeholder.

But, hey, have you seen "Alex Strangelove" yet?

Oh, it was so awesome. It was super-cathartic.

So there for it. So stoked.

What's your favorite part?

You know, the part where they finally...

- kissed? - Oh, at the prom!

That was... That was so peak.

So peak. Best scene ever.

Wow. Okay.

Kind of an "Alex Strangelove" super-fan, aren't ya?

I'd... I'd see it again.

Take off your pants.

- Ask nicely. - Maybe I wasn't asking.

Oh, Mister Fiftyshades...

Oh, that's not my character's name, but I like the accent.

- Take off your clothes. - What does it look like I'm doing?

- Do it faster. - I don't know, man.

If I do it any faster, it's gonna look a little cartoonish.

Absolutely not.

Maybe that's the way I'm taking off my belt now,

- like I really mean it. - Is it?

No.

This was such a good idea.

Emma's perfectly happy at Binge Club.

- She did insist? - Yeah, I mean, she...

I mean, she really strongly suggested it.

Okay. No, but did she mean it?

Like, was she just trying to tell us

what we wanted to hear, or...

- Yes? - Oh, no. We're losing it.

Oh, shit.

Not on my watch.

- Aah! - Ooh, shit!

Are you okay? I didn't mean that.

- Fuck, man! - I'm sorry. I...

I've just been questioning my masculinity a lot lately, and...

been thinking about my dad a lot.

Oh, hey, hey, let's not talk about our parents

- when we're trying to have sex. Yeah. - No. Right. Sorry.

Apology accepted.

Oh.

- Um... - I kissed you on the nose.

Ah, fuck.

- We lost it, didn't we? - Yeah.

Shit.

Sex has left the building,

slammed the door, seemed really disappointed in us.

Like, 10 minutes of calm meditation.

Then I'm gonna hit dat. All of it.

If the rental house is a-rockin', don't ring the...

wireless...

doorbell...

with webcam capability.

- Good one, honey. - Thanks.

It seems stupid now maybe, but I bought some stuff.

- Oh. - Let me be the judge of that.

Oh.

We can have fun with these.

Yep.

- Ew. - Oh, it was three for one, so...

- Okay. - Yeah.

- Are you thinking what I'm thinking? - Oh, yeah.

Yeah?

What are you thinking?

Is it the same as I'm...

Just give me a hint.

I don't mean to offend anyone,

but I think that she was an evil slut,

- and that she deserved to die. - I'm gonna stop you right there, okay?

As someone who identifies as an Agnes...

Oh, wait. You identify as a dead narrator?

I place a very high value on perspective. I do.

- Yeah, but that doesn't... - Not to break up your, uh,

emotional circle jerk, but Lala's outside

- ticketing all your cars. - Wait, what?!

- No! - Oh!

Lala? I seriously have to call her Lala?

Hi! Hi. Excuse me. Um...

What do you think you're doing?

Don't worry. No biggie. Minor fine.

- Ah. Well, are you a cop? - Oh, dear Lord, no.

No, I'm Lala.

So, that's... that's, like, a nickname?

It's, like, not.

Shall I tell my parents you don't approve?

This is Lala. Hi, Lala!

Lala is the super-awesome president of our Homeowners Association.

Elected six months ago in a landslide.

Largest margin of victory since...

HOAs are so cute.

I'm Emma Trakarsky, president of the Binge Club.

Welcome to the neighborhood, Emma.

Welcome back, actually.

Yeah, sadly, I can't recognize your authority

- because it turns out your club is... eek! - Oh.

... unsanctioned.

- Why don't you just... Oh! - That's... That's so cute.

- Did you make these at home? - No, I got them at Costco.

Listen, I'd love to look the other way,

but the neighborhood overwhelmingly entrusted me

with upholding our agreed-upon ordinances.

We're talking 94.5% of the vote, so...

yeah, obvious mandate. Anyhoo,

yeah, had some complaints.

Curb parking. Yuck, right?

- Totally yuck. - Yeah.

Okay, well, here's an idea. Try and keep up.

Why don't we just park in our own driveways?

That'd be so great.

- Problem solved. - That way, I can void the individual parking infractions

and just levy the entire fine against whomever's in charge.

I assume that's you, Madame President?

Bawk! President Polly! Bawk!

Uh... gotta go.

- Oh, my God. - I have a few more.

What was she thinking?

La-la-la-blow me!

Oh, my God.

- Uh, it's... - It's not what it looks like.

Or maybe it is.

What do you think it looks like?

Did you sneak home...

to nap?

Uh...

- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -