All language subtitles for You Me Her 3x01 - Dickless in Seattle (English)

The adventure begins.

Last season on "You Me Her"...

You do remember we're
having everybody over

for the game tomorrow, right?

The point is... are you bringing Izzy?

This is our choice,

- and this is what we want.
- Let's do it.

We have some very exciting news.

We're together! We're a throuple.

So, you quit escorting.

For Andy.

So, you're seriously falling for him?

I'm scared shitless. I can't sleep.

Think they even noticed that we left?

Y... you don't think Emma's bi?
You think she's just, like, gay?

Are you mad?

Who doesn't love a
spirited public cuckolding?

You start work in 47
minutes. That's at noon.

You can't fulfill the
duties of a skilled bartender

when you're highly inebriated.

- One more.
- I'm closing.

Wait, so this is about a job?

Coolest firm in Seattle.
Thanks so much, Kylie.

I don't... I don't
even know what to say.

Everyone at Pinnacle
is "buzzing" about me.

Have you crossed into
seriously considering this?

So, scary Nina?

I know it's fast, but yeah.

I see you, Nina Martone.

He's a love junkie.

That... that's his shit?

That's his shit.

Uh, how about we start
with a conversation?

What are you guys talking about?

We want you to have our baby.

Like, our baby. All three of us.

I feel like I've just been

drifting along and playing along.

And I woke up in the middle of my life,

no fucking clue who I am or what I want.

The house at Hawthorne Heights

is always gonna just be Jack and Emma's.

- It's ours if we want it.
- No shit?

Nobody can make this place
look cooler than Emma, right?

I'm a romantic.

I see you, Andy Cutler.

Wait.

We have an appointment to discuss

other options today at 4:00.

Do you remember what you said to me?

How you're not sure about
anything in your life

sexually, professionally, or...

- reproductively?
- Jack wants a baby.

Jack wants a baby.

I need you guys to want it, too.

- 'Cause if you don't, there's no reason...
- Jack.

I do.

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_

Good morning.

- Hi, Emma.
- Hi.

- Hi, Emma.
- Good morning.

Hey, Em.

- Hi.
- Good morning.

Hello.

- You did this, Em.
- It's really happening.

Mm-hmm.

It was a bright and cheery
spring morning in Portland,

the perfect day for fresh starts.

Or was it?

For brilliant and obscenely handsome

psychologist Jack Trakarsky,

nothing would ever be
bright and cheery again.

That's the worst
"Dateline" impression ever.

- That was really bad, right?
- Yeah.

Okay, no peeking.

Okay. Okay.

Okay, voÍl�.

The pi�ce de r�sistance.

Wow.

I know it's not what she would've done,

but, uh, I was inspired.

I love it.

You hate it.

You totally hate it, and I... I get it.

- I went... I went far with the... with the birds...
- Babe.

- ... and the yellow and the ahh, and the... I get it.
- Babe.

I said I love it.

And I love you.

Mm.

Good, 'cause I couldn't
take one more day

in her house, surrounded
by her shit and her friends

with their catty little
home-wrecker glares.

Maybe there's a little
paranoia in play here?

Mm, I'm acutely
self-aware, so hold on...

Nope, I'm good.

Monday's the divorce signing, right?

Yep.

Want to actually talk about it,
or is that still too radical?

For the millionth time, I'm fine, okay?

It's water under the bridge.

It's water off a duck's back.

- It's water...
- Oh, my God, stop. I get it. Yep.

You're a rolling river of fineness.

But you have postponed
the signing twice,

so it's fair of me to wonder

if there's something else going on...

Iz, can we literally
talk about anything else?

Please?

Fine.

What if, um...

What if you have a substantial estate

and we were newly married?

But I have a secret past

littered with rich, dead husbands?

Which, by the way,
I've never once denied.

We're playing "Dateline" with an accent.

First...

I'd lull you into complacency
with my insidious sexuality.

Mm-hmm.

Oh.

- Cause of death... phallic hypothermia.
- Oh, dear.

Was the adoring doctoral
candidate with the cold hands

hiding an even colder heart?

Seriously, you should
see a doctor about these.

One more word about my hands,

and I will seriously "Dateline" you.

Do you like the wallpaper?

- Yeah.
- Okay, good.

- There was wallpaper?
- It was really expensive.

I used your credit
card. I hope that's okay.

- Honey?
- Yeah?

Please tell me you hid my shirts

like it's some sort of a
fun joke to play on Dave.

Otherwise, this is the only
shirt that I have left to wear.

Uh, crazy day yesterday.

Honey, I need you to
look at me for a second.

Well, can I just assume
that you're wearing

a ridiculously wrinkled
shirt to hammer home a point

with your trademark subtlety?

Okay, I cannot wear a T-shirt and blazer

for the fourth straight day, all right?

I don't want to be the
T-shirt and blazer guy.

- W... what, do I manage a band?
- Say, here's an idea...

how about this evening, when
you're driving directly past

the dry cleaners with zero
screaming children in the car,

you hang a Louie and pick
up your own shirts, cool?

Okay, the smile that launched
a thousand nightmares.

Okay, so, do it myself,

hang a Louie, dry cleaning,
got it, okay. Great.

Sorry, I'm just a little overwhelmed.

That's fine. That's fine.
It's just, uh, you know,

is it possible that the amount
of whelm that you're feeling

is due in part to the magazine thing?

You think you can call it the magazine

and not "the magazine thing"

like it's super cute
and not at all real?

Are we fighting,
'cause I don't what's...

Okay, well, let's review.

I was feeding our two young children

when you entered, complaining
about the dry cleaning

while wearing a shirt I've
been using to clean the windows

- for the past five years.
- That explains why my chest is itchy.

What?

Dave, this matters to me, okay?

It's not a full-time job,
but it's not a hobby, either.

Okay. I know.

- And I support you 100%.
- Thank you.

Okay?

Just that while you're doing those
amazing things out in the world,

you know, you got to also be
here, you know what I mean?

Be here?

Yeah, metaphorically speaking.
I didn't... I don't mean...

Like, I'm not forbidding
you from leaving the house.

- Oh, no.
- Not that I would do that,

if I... if given the option.
Not that I would take the...

Okay. This is going downhill
faster than an Olympic luger.

Lugist?

Here's what I mean. Look.

- Be here. Nope, it still sounds douchey?
- Mm, mm.

Okay, it sounded wise in my head, but...

- Can't imagine why.
- Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.

Okay, I'm gonna go pick out a
T-shirt and blazer combination.

I think that might be fun to try.

Great. There you go.

Okay, so far I've got

"True Crime: Is Serial
Killer The New Rock Star?"

or "Fake News Therapy: Lie Me to Sleep."

- Iz?
- Hm?

Hello?

Oh. Thesis titles.

- Yeah.
- Right.

Lay 'em on me.

I just did.

Then I love the middle one.

Of... two.

I'm sorry.

I'm having trouble getting Jack

to talk about Emma without
using the word "fine."

What he's really
feeling is gonna fester,

and, you know, then it's gonna
turn into whatever happens

when feelings fester.

It's like emotional pus.

- Thanks for that.
- Sorry.

Okay, look, dudes deal differently.

Eventually, he's gonna
get drunk and cry ugly

and punch a wall or whatever.

You seriously need to stop
worrying about the Trakarskys

and start sorting your own
shit, specifically your thesis

and rapidly approaching
grown-up career.

- I need a plan.
- Yeah, no shit.

Some way to get the two of
them alone in an enclosed space.

Okay. You know what?

Think I'm just gonna...

just get up real slow,

walk away, see if you notice

or care at all...

I'm just gonna go...

- O... oww!
- Same spot, every day

- until you pitch me your thesis!
- Ow! Ow!

Your therapy techniques
are fucking weird.

Hm, this is a nice surprise.

I wish the weather would've cooperated.

What's with the '80s
Michael J. Fox ensemble?

Yeah, that is a story about
dry cleaning, my friend.

- You want to hear about that?
- No. Actually, I'll pass.

I got to tell you, Lori moving out

and this Hannah person
moving in has turned out to be

the worst possible sequence
of events. I mean...

Oh, I'm sorry, am I boring you?

No, just look how cute she is.

- No, don't throw it again!
- She's not that cute.

Just a regular child.

Oh.

Look at that. What an
arm you have on you.

Good throw. Here you go.

Oh, you got to make sure
she doesn't throw a curveball

before high school, otherwise
the tendons in the elbow

will get all... all screwed up.

And this one, I just want to eat her up.

Okay, then, we're just gonna go.

You can never be too careful,
right? Stranger danger?

I sound a little too creepy,

- but I'm not.
- Yeah. Bye.

Make sure you clean that binky.

- I have some wipes if you want them...
- Okay, okay. All right, they're gone.

They're gone. See how she's fleeing

from your biological clock?

They were... just had someplace to go.

You just... you don't say,
"I'm not creepy," by the way.

That makes you sound creepy.

Hey, speaking of fleeing from things,

you got your divorce signing on Monday.

You want to talk about that?

Did Izzy get to you, too?

No.

- Yes.
- Mm.

But I mean, I happen to think she
has a valid point in this situation.

Okay, you know what?
J... Tell her you tried.

Nice try, but, uh... I'm good.

Whatever, okay?

Okay.

- We still on for Game 1 on Saturday...
- Yes.

... at your place with the yard

- and the sidewalk that doesn't smell like urine?
- Slight change of plans.

I would actually like
to be away from kids

for the day, and you're the
only one that doesn't have any,

so... sorry.

Gabe's coming, by the way.

- Oh, I love Gabe.
- Yeah.

- Love Gabe.
- Said no one ever.

Yeah.

Does your biological
clock have an alarm?

No, but...

I set this for every 15 minutes,

you know, just in case

I need to get out of a particularly

annoying conversation, like, you know.

So then I can be like, "Hey,
sorry, I got a place to be.

- Got an appointment."
- Yeah.

So I do actually have something to do.

I have an appointment.

Oh, bravo, yeah, I get it, okay.

- Okay.
- Yeah.

Stop conspiring with
my girlfriend, okay?

- You're heading for a fall...
- Yep.

- ... Trakarsky, that's all I'm saying.
- I can't hear you.

My biological clock is deafening.

I'm sorry, Hannah.

Sorry. Rough morning.

This is still weird for me.

How's that?

Oh, it's, uh, Lori's house.

It's cool now, but effortlessly
cool, kind of like you.

Ha, please.

If you'd seen me eight hours ago,

Swiffering, bingeing Adult Swim

with nothing but a tumbler
of micro batch bourbon

to keep me company?

It's like you can't even help it.

Okay, Cal.

Pitch me your best idea.

Poo!

Awesome.

Liking it.

What about poop? A lot
of poop stories out there.

How's this one gonna be different?

Just want to flush it
out, get back to me?

Yeah? Awesome.

Okay, now about your rough morning...

Oh, yeah, Dave was being a bit of a...

Oh...

- Mm.
- Damn.

Damn.

So committed.

Oh, I think every part of you
is touching every part of me.

Mm. You know, I used to be a toe dipper.

Now I'm a high diver.

It's in my book.

Jesus, you're writing a book, too?

Mm. It's ostensibly a
women's travel guide,

but it's basically about the journey

back to the essential you.

Is it weird that I want
to be you when I grow up?

No, not at all.

So, uh, who watches the boys

when you and Rob are
jetting all over the world?

Uh, well, we have a nanny,

like any reasonable two-career couple.

Anyway, almost finished
my review on that

Hawthorne repertory shit show,

an apt description, since
it's at least allegedly a play.

Um, you're shredding it?

"Five white suburban women
just discovered xenophobia

and now they're nobly
educating the rest of us."

So, I am not saying that
we have to wantonly blow

every potential advertiser...

Because the Heights is different, right?

We're not just another
bougie-pandering community rag.

Fuckin' A, sister.

However, the theater is launching

a huge season-pass campaign,

so we got to go full
deep throat on this one.

There must be something
positive about that play, right?

- There were seats.
- Yeah.

- And a stage?
- Ooh.

None of the actors peed herself?

Ah! See? That's right
off the top of your head.

You know, like Rob always says, "We... "

What? What is that face?

Dave bet me 50 bucks Rob's not real.

- Speaking of Dave...
- But were we?

... have you guys talked about
some version of child care?

I'd say we're more talking
about talking about it.

Look, Carm, I sure as hell
am not going to tell you

how to run your family,
but I am gonna tell you

that we can't publish
almost-finished theater reviews.

You know what I'm saying, partner?

Yeah.

May I ask why you're pretending
to vomit onto your computer?

Andy is relentlessly posting
photos of him and his dad

having a smile-off
somewhere in the woods.

Sickos.

Say, has anyone ever written a thesis

about excessive cyberstalking
of ex-boyfriends?

You think there's a clinical
name for that or... ?

No, but there is a
clinical name for co-workers

who habitually say the stupidest shit

at the worst possible moments.

It's called missing.

You deal realize you
don't scare me anymore,

right, 'cause our relationship
has moved way past that.

Oh, do tell.

Well, uh, we're best buds.

Mejores amigos.

Or is it mejores amigas?

What's it when... when
one bestie's female,

- the other one's male...
- Dude, get over it, okay?

We're two humans frequently
in the same structure

at the same time who feel compelled

to speak to each other.

- Well, methink the lady doth...
- Men suck.

That's my thesis.

Oh...

Okay, well, I recommend
something a little more

smarty-pants, and then...
and then how 'bout some...

some therapy? "The State
of the Millennial Man."

Hm? 20-something dates
in 20-something days,

the whole aimless,
emotionally-stunted man-child thing?

I want to know the hows,
whys, and what nows.

Mm-hmm. Okay. Jot this one down.

Uh, we're confused.

Thesis written.

Huh?

You're welcome. Next.

So what, you're saying it's our fault?

- Is that what you're saying?
- No. T... the...

No, how did you get that... Fuck no.

- Hell no. All the nos.
- Boom! Right there. I saw it in your eyes.

You are definitely still scared of me.

Could you please just...

just clean a glass or
something, you know?

All right, I'm gonna leave you with this

before I do both of
our jobs, as usual...

You think men have
spontaneously devolved,

but a lot has changed in
the dating and mating front,

like in leap time.

Lines have blurred,
gender roles are smeared...

Shh. Zip it, okay?

I've got wheels turning, big things.

"The Vexing Plight of
the Millennial Male."

That's perfect.

That's definitely not a
rephrasing of what I just said.

It's my break time.

Good for you, you've
worked hard. Thank you.

But when you come back, you and I,

we're gonna have a little sit down

and talk about professional boundaries.

- Kylie?
- Up here!

What are we celebrating?

I mean, aside from the fact

that we can't seem to go a week

without closing a new project?

Not to sound like a teenage girl,

but it is our two-month anniversary.

Seriously? Two months.
How is that even possible?

One month in college, one month now.

Sue me. I'm a romantic.

Aww, Kylie.

Mm, how awesome are you?

More than your mortal
mind can comprehend.

I got us into Delilah's.

Yeah, what? Next Christmas?

In 20 minutes by the window.

Ain't no thing. I know a guy.

Well, that is so fucking hot.

The things I'm gonna do
to you when we get home...

Oh, what a shame.

I don't sleep with married women.

- Yeah?
- Strict policy.

Oh, you sure about that?

Oh, well, maybe it's not
so much a strict policy

as a loose guideline.

And you're single as of Monday, so...

Sorry, sorry, I...

That was weird, I
just... I just got weird.

We're both in uncharted waters, Em.

You've never been in a
committed relationship

with a woman before, and
I've never been with someone

who was married to a
dude for a million years.

We're good, you're good, they're good.

And you have nothing
to feel guilty about.

Uh...

Actually, technically, it's your slice,

so you're welcome to it.

Okay.

Wait.

First...

Take another look at how cute
I look in my boyfriend's jersey.

Mm-hmm.

Look at the pizza.

Now back up here.

Hello.

- Now back at the pizza.
- Okay.

Now know that you can only
have one of these two things.

Oof. Hmm.

Are you sexually manipulating
me over the last slice of pizza?

Please, I have chloroformed people
over the last piece of pizza.

Fine, it's yours.

You're the best.

Mm.

Jack, are you gonna answer it?

What do you think she wants?

Only one way to find out.

Hey, you!

Well, someone's perky.

Are you high?

Yeah, we are super high.

Just dancing, feeding each other pizza,

generally frolicking.

The usge.

Just talk like a normal person.

Well, that's... that's awesome.

Yeah, things are...
things are great here, too.

Um, just scored another big project.

Got back from celebrating
with Kylie at the...

the fanciest restaurant in
the Pacific Northwest, so...

Wow, you go, girl.

I will actually

barf pizza all over your face.

Uh, so, this is a bit awkward, but you

postponed the last
two scheduled signings,

and I just want to make sure
that we're still on for Monday.

Yep, on for Monday.

Tell Kylie and pop some corks.

Um, well, I will see you then.

Yep, see you then.

Bye, Jack.

Bye, Em.

- What?
- Are you serious?

Jack, you need to stop
whatever the fuck that was

and express some
actual, genuine emotions

about how things went down.

Emma realized she's gay.

End of story.

We want different things,

and it's good that we figured that out

before a baby came into the mix.

And that makes you feel... ?

Why is this only about me?

You're... you got left, too.

We were together for, like, a month.

It's hardly the same thing.

Okay, if you were counseling
us, what would you say?

- "Assface?"
- What?

- That's your da... Is that your dad?
- Oh, yeah.

Why is he suddenly calling you so much?

Well, not really that sudden.

Meaning?

Meaning he started calling a year ago,

ramped it up the last few weeks,

and I don't want to talk about it.

You don't want to talk about it.

You don't see the parallels
to the conversation

we were just having?

No.

You're gonna get changed.

Ben Silva's call has
just shaken me in a way

that can only remedied
by sweating out vodka

in a place that's just, like, uh, uh.

You know, like, too loud to think.

- Your favorite.
- All right.

Awesome, I am in.

Let's do it.

Again.

Bless you.

You look plagued, and not with concern.

You look like you
literally have the plague.

- The fuck ran into you?
- Hey, enjoy.

There's zero chance he's
successfully eating that.

Can't you just tell Izzy
that you're too old now

and you can't hang anymore.

And there's no shame in that.

I mean, we already know it.

I can't take much
more of this, you guys.

I'm way closer to 40 than 35.

Or 39, for that matter.

I did shots last night that
were called "Death by Dawn."

- The title itself is its own warning.
- More like a prophecy.

She wants to have sex,
like, all the time,

sometimes fucking every
day, twice a day...

Wow, you poor man.

I would slap your face if
you didn't look contagious.

Really going for it.

So does this mean

we're not coming over to watch the game?

What? No. No. No bailing.

We're going to your loft
to watch the fucking game.

Take it easy there, Superfan.

It's the first game of the first round.

You know how many butts I had
to wipe to make this happen?

Seriously hoping it's just the two.

We're watching the game,
okay? I need the distraction.

Divorce signing thing
still on for Monday?

- Oh, buddy, is that what this is about?
- Are you okay?

- Do you want to talk about it?
- Need a suit?

You two are literally the
last people in the world

I would want to talk to about it, okay?

- Excuse me?
- What?

I think Izzy must be
hung over, too, right?

I mean, she's young,
but she's still human.

- All better?
- Like it never happened.

One more, we can accidentally
slide into a day rage.

Whoo!

Uh, no can do, sister.

I'm enacting a devious plan.

Um, I love devious plans
even more than day raging.

- Tell me.
- I know. Okay.

So, last night, I texted Emma

that Jack and I would be
out of the loft all day

so she could come deal with all
the shit that we've been storing.

- I left her a key.
- I'm starting to think

you don't actually know what
the word "devious" means.

I'm not done. And then
I recruited Dave...

you know, Jack's weird
friend with all the kids...

to make sure that they
would be in the loft

watching the game.

Get it?

I'm getting super
fucking bored over here.

Okay, point is, is that you know Jack.

He gets so weird. He's like all chill

and philosophical, but it's,
like, come the fuck on, okay?

If he doesn't let it
out, he's gonna detonate.

Like, I can hear him ticking.

Are you sure that's the real reason

behind your "devious plan?"

- Nyeh.
- What other motive would there be?

Seriously? Oh, come on.

Iz, it's me.

Oh, you think I want to
get the band back together?

- After what she did?
- Mm-hmm.

How does that even make sense?

Oh, it... it doesn't. And, um,

while we're discussing
the pervasive senselessness

of your entire life, have
you talked to your dad,

who's been calling on the
hour for several weeks,

or is closure only for other people?

You wrecked my buzz.

Let me guess... headed to the loft?

Oh, you're so cute when you
think you know things and...

Do not go to the loft.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Oh, come on, Goldsby!

I think it's time we cut you off, man.

You're yelling at the TV
like they can hear you.

He heard me.

Look, I managed to go an entire Saturday

without seeing or
touching a child's puke,

so it's still a win in my books.

So, is this ridiculously small TV

the only thing left to you
in this giant brick box?

Okay, you know what? Unlike you,

I have a normal, adult-sized penis,

so I don't need a TV
the size of a billboard.

Did you steal it from the
back seat of an Escalade

from the headrest? You just...

- and right there?
- He's saying it's small.

- It is very small.
- It is.

Hey, Frank. Yeah,
extra large for pick-up.

Thanks.

Hey, there, Peanut.

You don't get to call
me that anymore, Ben.

- Come on, let's not...
- Go the fuck away.

The sad thing is, you're right.

Now I know how Izzy felt when
she was in Hawthorne Heights.

It's just... I fucking miss the suburbs.

It's pathetic, I know.

It takes me, like, an hour
to find a parking space

- when I'm driving around.
- That's the worst.

You poor baby.

Guys, we were not having
this conversation, okay?

W... what? Does she beat you?

Hey.

Hey.

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