Original subtitles

Lady Godiva was a freedom rider.

She didn't care if the whole world looked.

Joan of Arc with the Lord to guide her. She was a sister who really could.

Isadora was the first proper to. Ain't you glad she showed up?

Oh, yeah.

When the country was falling apart, Betsy Ross got it all sewed up.

And then there's more.

Right on.

Well, anyway, the thing is, I can't believe I'm here. I mean, me, Maude

actually talking to a psychiatrist.

I mean, true, I have been a little depressed lately, but, well, let's face

need analysis like my daughter Carol needs water wings.

That's a little joke, because my daughter happens to be built like a...

it. Uh -huh.

Anyway, aside from a slight depression, I have everything in the world I could

possibly want. A loving husband, good friends. Oh, I must tell you, I've

made friends and husbands easily.

Especially husbands.

Anyway, I'm a perfectly normal, well -adjusted woman.

So, what am I doing talking to a psychiatrist?

Graduated medical school in 1962.

Oh, wonderful.

Wonderful? That would make you what? 35?

36? You're a baby!

I mean, how is a woman my age supposed to discuss her innermost thoughts with

somebody who probably comes to work on a skateboard?

I'm sorry. I mean, just because I'm a little nervous, there's no reason to

insult you.

Look, don't you ever say anything.

Uh -huh.

Uh -huh.

That's what I get for $50 a session. Uh -huh.

If I give you $60, will you bark?

I mean, how am I supposed to tell a total stranger the most intimate details

my life? How am I supposed to bare my heart? What am I supposed to do? Blurt

that I think I've fallen out of love with my husband?

Didn't mean that.

It's just one of those crazy thoughts that pops into your mind. You know, like

when I was a little girl, I used to have this thought about sewing my mother's

lips together.

You're finally writing something down.

Sure, I fantasized sewing my mother's lips together, and then I asked her to

bite off the thread.

But we all have those weird fantasies, don't we, Doctor?

I said we all have those weird fantasies, don't we, Pastor?

Uh -huh.

Do you know that's the third cigarette you've had since I've been here?

My father used to smoke just like that. He had the same two ugly yellow fingers

you have.

I'm not really falling out of love with my husband.

You really want to know why I'm here. I mean, the honest -to -God reason I'm

here.

Coffee nerves.

See, I got nervous because Walter threatened to pour a pot of coffee over

head.

Coffee nerves.

Well, I'm sure he wouldn't have really done it. The point is, he threatened to.

And why?

For the simple reason that I entertained our guests one night by telling them,

in a nice way, mind you, what a complete ass he is.

He is, you know.

Uh, you're taking sides.

Anyway, I couldn't help it.

You see, we had this other couple over to dinner one night with the Harmons,

Finletters, Larry and, get this, Punky Finletter.

I mean, anybody named Priscilla who would insist on being called Punky.

Well, anyway.

You know what I dislike most about Punky?

My husband.

You should have seen the way he was hanging over her. There was more of his

and her cleavage than there was on his head.

The Lowry -Finletter is 62 and Punky is 25. It's a May -December

marriage. I think she started cheating in June.

But anyway, I'm certainly not jealous. I mean, there's no reason for me to be

jealous. Heaven knows I have enough men paying attention to me.

Well, take, for example, my hairdresser, Jacques.

Oh, and don't be fooled by that name. It's spelled J -O -C -K.

Another cigarette?

Oh, why don't I get off your back?

You know, I find myself doing the same thing to Walter these days.

Last night, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, clipping his toenails. I was

over at my dressing table pouring a cup of tea.

Suddenly, I heard a clip.

Doctor, what do you think the odds are against a toenail clipping flying across

the room, ricocheting off a mirror, landing on a nose and dropping

into a teak?

I wanted to hit him right between the eyes with a meat cleaver.

What is it with me, doctor? One little toenail clipping and zap, I'm Lizzie

Borden.

What is it? What is it with me? What is wrong?

Uh, sure, that's easy for you to say.

Oh, I know what it is anyway.

I've been married to Walter for seven years and when we're together...

I don't hear violins anymore.

What I hear sounds like air being let out of a balloon.

Oh, my lips are dry. Why the hell are my lips so damn dry?

Boy, I can't believe this is coming out of me.

Oh, it's me all right.

I'd recognize that face anywhere.

The innocent glow of Donna Reed.

And the crisp features of George C. Scott.

Oh, never mind the face.

I looked at myself naked in a full -length mirror.

God, how I wish I could repeal the law of gravity.

I might as well make use of the equipment.

Comfy.

Well, anyway, right from the beginning, Walter and I were just sensational

together. I mean, whenever he wanted to take me to the moon, all he had to do

was look at me, and I was ready for the countdown.

Now, lately, I find myself falling asleep on the launching pad.

Uh -huh. Uh -huh.

I seem to be avoiding him.

Oh, poor Walter.

He looks at me with those sad eyes like he's a basset hound and I've just put

salt Peter in his alpo.

So why was it I who rejected him first?

First?

Why do I say I rejected him first?

Oh, I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking I'm afraid I'm losing my sex appeal.

But let me tell you something, doctor. In six days, I'm going to be 50 years

old. So let's have a little respect. What are you writing down? That I'm

to be 50?

Oh, I suppose that's why you think I think I'm losing my sex appeal. And

that's... why I'm avoiding Walter. Not true.

Not true.

I saw the way he looked at Punky, and nobody walks out on me. I am the one who

does the walking.

Even when I left home at 18, it was my decision, despite the fact that my

and I had such a close relationship.

Did I tell you that in my entire life we only had one argument?

It started when I was four, and I'll let you know when it's over.

That was a joke, Doctor.

I just had one of those feelings. You know, what do you call it? Like when you

feel you've lived an entire moment over before.

It seems we stood and talked like this before.

We looked at each other in the same way then.

But I can't remember.

What made me think of that?

That was my father's favorite song. And I can never remember the rest of the

lyrics.

My father.

You know, nothing I ever did was good enough or right enough for my father.

And even if I came home from school with straight A's, where was the A plus?

I don't remember one relaxed moment in his company.

I don't remember my father ever telling me he loved me.

You know, doctor, when I was ten years old, I stopped kissing my father

goodnight.

I don't remember why I did. I just remember that I did.

I know why I stopped kissing my father when I was 10.

Because he never kissed me back.

Wait, it was even worse.

He never could tear his damn ear away from his radio.

I remember thinking to myself, okay, if he can throw me over for singing Sam

the Barbasol Man, I'll show him.

So I started sneaking up the kitchen stairs without kissing him

goodnight.

Thinking that'll show him.

And waiting for him to ask where was his goodnight kiss.

And he never asked.

Because he never knew I stopped.

For the first time, it seemed to be happening.

What has all this got to do with what I feel about Walter?

I mean, am I even saying what I mean?

And if I am... If I am...

Who am I, Doctor?

Who am I?

And so it seems that we have met

before and laughed before and loved before,

but who knows?

Well, I must say, I found that little cry very cathartic, Doctor, but if

it's all right with you, my next cathartis will be Carter's little liver

This is hell.

You laughed!

Now I... I know what it takes. A rotten joke.

Anyway.

I mean, does this process have to be so painful?

I was sort of hoping for a fun analysis.

Oh, boy.

Wow.

That flood that poured out of my eyes looks like it took my face along with

You know, when you get down to it, I'm really quite attractive.

What a face.

I love you, my little face.

You know, I'm beginning to look more and more like my grandmother every year.

Oh, but that's not a put -down. I mean, she was a hell of a lady. I really

adored my grandmother.

Oh, what a flair she had.

What a wild sense of humor.

You know, I remember once... She came and lived with us. It lasted three

My mother and she fought every minute of the time.

And finally, my mother said to her, Mother, I've decided what to do with

I'm putting you in a home.

My grandmother said, Oh, well, I've decided what to do with you, too. I'm

an abortion.

Watch it, Doctor. You'll split your sides smiling.

I adored that lady.

She made up for all the hurt, you know, from my father.

I wonder what my next thought is of Walter.

Oh, did I tell you he was 52?

Oh, no, stop writing. Stop writing. I know what you're thinking.

It's not his age I'm worried about.

It's my own.

Oh, my God, doctor, in six days I will be half a century old.

You know, the road ahead is beginning to look a lot shorter than the road

behind.

And I can't take it because I love this life. I love this

life. I love it. I love it.

Oh, I just had a chill.

Thinking of the chair that my grandmother used to sit in.

She died.

Oh, how empty it became. You know, that's what dying is, leaving an empty

where you once were.

Oh, boy, aren't we having fun.

See,

I wonder what Walter thinks about my getting old.

So I lose Walter. I mean, didn't I tell you when I first came in that I haven't

been able to get interested in him anyway? I mean, didn't I say that I was

one who rejected him first?

First.

Why the hell do I keep saying I rejected him first? I mean, why should I have

the same passion for Walter I had seven years ago?

Seven years ago.

Our bed had one meaning for us.

Now, thanks to the new old me, the sandwiches he brings to bed and the

and the milk and the chocolate cake, it's become a horizontal dining room.

It's like sleeping at Sambo's.

God, oh, I love that man.

Oh, he is so adorable. I mean...

What are you writing now?

You're not even writing. You're doodling.

Sure, that's what my whole life is. One big doodle.

Oh, why the hell did I say that?

I'm not in the habit of putting myself down. I let other people do.

Why did I say that?

People do not put me down, at least not to my face.

I'm beginning to sound absolutely paranoid.

Frightening myself.

You know, I like to think of myself as tough, you know. Now I

feel like a cowering little girl, like I did with my father.

My father.

My father again.

I don't remember one redeeming feature about that man.

The man never gave me one decent moment, not one.

Maybe one.

I remember I was shopping for a new coat

for my junior prom.

And my mother saw one she liked. Well, I hated it. It was green and made me look

like a large bush.

And then I saw this coat.

It had a Persian lamb collar.

Well, it was $22 .50 more. So my mother insisted I take the cheaper one. And I

said, absolutely not. And if I can't have that one, then I don't want any.

I ended up going to the prom wearing the same ratty old thing that I'd worn for

years.

And just as my date and I were walking

up the high school steps, there was my father.

He was out of breath and sweating, and he was holding this

coat with a Persian lamb collar.

gone to the furrier's home and pleaded with him to open the store so that he

could buy that coat. And then he broke every traffic law in the books so that

could get there in time to give me this coat

with the Persian lamb color so that I could wear it to the prom.

What a sweet, thoughtful, loving thing to do.

You know, I think deep down, I never said this to anyone, not even to myself,

but I think deep down I love my father.

Oh, how I loved him.

All those years saying I didn't, but I did. I loved my father

no matter what he did to hurt me.

I know why I stopped kissing him goodnight.

I loved him so much I was frightened that he would reject me.

Oh, no, no, no. Now I'm doing the same thing to Walter.

I love him so much that I'm frightened.

I look for love and then I reject it before it has a chance to reject me.

That's why I can't take chances.

That's why I try to be so tough.

That's why my humor is so caustic.

That's why I met you today for the first time and I don't care if you like me. I

don't care at all.

But damn it, I do care.

And I'm not afraid I don't love Walter. I'm afraid Walter doesn't love me.

And I'm not afraid of growing old.

I'm afraid of growing old alone.

Doctor,

I am 50 years old and nobody loves me. Nobody

loves me. I don't care whether that's true or not. That's the way I feel.

Why don't I feel loved?

I know.

Because I have to learn to love myself first.

That's where it all starts, right?

Oh, God, I've read it, I've heard it.

Why did I have to learn it so late?

Well... I must say, I feel a lot better now than I...

Did when I first came in

Don't

worry about me doctor. I'm gonna be all right Give me a couple of days and I'll

have it all together all of it.

Oh and As you're wondering doctor, I won't be seeing you again

thought just crossed my mind.

I was wondering if I were to walk over to your desk and, you know, kiss you

goodbye, just a little peck on the cheek.

I was wondering if you'd kiss me back.

See you Friday?

was taped in Hollywood for a live audience.