All language subtitles for You.Me.Her.S04E03.720p.HDTV.x264-aAF

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 -