All language subtitles for Destination.Wedding.2018.720p.BluRay.x264-[YTS.AM].en

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Subtitles by explosiveskull

Why wouldn't we
bring up the first amendment?

We have to stick to the constitution.
That is what made this country.

Don't die.

Come on, photosynthesis.

- That's a nice dress.
- Oh. Thank you.

- I like your jacket.
- Thanks.

- I hope our flight's on time.
- Oh, it is. See?

This airline has an excellent
arrival-departure record.

Um, I Googled it.

And, um, it has a 98...

No 96,
no 98 percent approval...

online user
approval rating.

Which is very incredibly
high, obviously.

Um, and Rancho Cucamonga
Mary sent me three,

who I trust implicitly,
was very effusive about it.

- Yeah.
- And you get a snack.

Great.

- I'm sorry, what was that?
- What?

You just took
a step forward there.

- I didn't.
- Yeah, you did. You know you did.

- I didn't realize.
- Oh, I see.

I beg your pardon?

- I s-see what you did. I know what you did. It's...
- What did I do?

You came up alongside me, you know, with
your jacket and your face and charm,

and you just, you know, talked to
me for a strategic amount of time,

established your position,

and then just casually, blatantly
stepped in front of me.

Like I had
some sort of amnesia

and couldn't remember 15 seconds in
the past when you were behind me.

Untrue.

Oh my... You just
did it again.

This is like watching a
master at work in his dojo.

- I mean...
- Here's what happened.

I came to my gate, hoping
my flight was on time.

I then attempted to start
a pleasant conversation,

whereupon you revealed the tip of
the iceberg of your tendencies,

and I was forced to take a step
forward to escape the vortex.

Oh, my God.
Oh... Again! Oh!

And now you're casting me as the author
of a Byzantine conspiracy theory

of a Machiavellian land grab

designed to usurp your position on
an aircraft that has eight seats.

You know what? Okay.

That's cra... If I'm wrong, just step in
back of me instead of in front of me.

No, because that would mean
going past you again.

I see. You know what?

Five years ago, I would have said
something trite like, "Chivalry is dead."

But this is worse
than unchivalrous.

This is... You are
part and parcel of a world

that no longer has any
idea how to behave itself.

In fact, I draw a straight
line between people like you

to investment bankers to
politicians to terrorists.

You basically all have the same contempt
for decency and rules and any manners.

And what's funny is there's
no way you can board first

because the only way you could board
first is if you had a special need.

Do you have
a special need?

Yes, I need
to be over there.

Fucker.

- Fantastic.
- Wonderful.

- Anybody want to trade seats?
- You're ridiculous.

Anybody?
It's great back here.

You've got
to be kidding me.

Jesus.

What brings you
to San Luis Obispo?

- You don't have to.
- What?

Talk. Honestly, I'd be
happier if you didn't.

Fine.

Dear God.
Tear it at the notch.

There is no notch.

- Give it to me.
- I'm not giving you...

Give it to me.

This one does not appear
to have a working notch.

Yeah.

Yeah.

All that...

Thank you.

I'm actually
going to Paso Robles.

They call it Paso "Roables."

Well, the correct
pronunciation is Robles.

But they call it "Roables."

- Whatever.
- I hope it's a big place.

It isn't.

If I see you at a restaurant,
I'll go to another restaurant.

I'm not going to be
in any restaurants.

Why? Are you checking
into a mental institution?

I'm going to that most presumptuous
of all things, a destination wedding.

Please don't tell me
it's Keith and Anne's.

How many weddings
can there possibly be

on any given day
in Paso Robles?

I was praying for two.

And I was blaming Satan
for my seat assignment

when it was actually
just Keith's assistant.

And how do you know
the esteemed Keith?

I was engaged to him
six years ago.

- Oh, my God, you're Lindsay.
- Why, how do you know him?

He and I have
the same mother.

Holy shit,
you're Frank?

Oh, you're even worse
than he said.

You too.

Oh, my God.

Serious...

- There was supposed to be a car.
- Our flight was early.

Really?
It seemed so long.

Attention, passengers,
increased security measures

require all passengers
to maintain

close personal contact
with your bags at all times.

So how much do you know about what
happened between me and Keith?

I know that he broke off your engagement
five weeks before the wedding.

And now I know why.

He said some shit
about you, boy.

- Like what?
- Doesn't matter.

Don't do that, don't dangle an injurious
tidbit and then snatch it away.

Or what, I'll die alone?

Keith is a panhandling
piece of garbage,

and you're better off
without him.

Which is saying something,
considering how bad off you are.

Just pity the bride,
whoever she is.

- You haven't met her?
- Just like I never met you.

I stay as far away
from Keith as I can.

My mother insisted I turn up for this shit show,
otherwise, I wouldn't be meeting you now.

Isn't that nice
to think about?

She said it's important to show
up because if you show up,

the worst they can say is you're
horrendous, which is subjective.

But not showing up
is objective.

Well, you showed up.

Why would you come
to his wedding?

He broke your heart,
as I recall.

Shattered, yes.

Didn't you wind up
suing him?

Well, I needed to lash out.

Plus he cost my parents
$32,000 in deposits.

- Did you win?
- There was a settlement.

Did you feel better?

Look, I came
because he invited me.

He only invited you because he
wanted to act like a big person,

not because he, in any way,
wanted you to come.

You think I wanted to come? I'm
just trying to be the big person.

See, this only works if one of
you actually is a big person.

Well, also, I need closure.

You don't have closure?
It was six years ago.

Do I strike you as someone
who has closure?

He's marrying someone else.
That's closure.

It's closed.

Closed is not
the same thing as closure.

Any chance
they sent two cars?

So, what do you do, Frank?

That is, when you're not shining
your light upon the world.

I run marketing
for J.D. Power and Associates.

The "Car of the Year" people?

No, that's a magazine.

I bought one of your cars of the year.
It was a piece of crap.

Again, a magazine.
Common error.

Is that the career
you dreamed of?

Handing out awards
by the fistful?

Hugely successful company,
extremely well-respected.

It's corporate brownnosing
on a national scale.

International.
And don't sleep on awards.

Our country lives
on self-congratulation.

Let me ask you this.

Has there ever been a car

that wasn't a J.D. Power
and Associates Car of the Year?

We don't do "Car of the
Year." That's a magazine.

I've seen those
Lucite trophies.

They're on every car commercial
for every car, ever.

What do you do anyway?

I prosecute companies
and institutions

for culturally insensitive
actions or speech.

You're the politically
correct police.

No.

You parse what people say and
do, and then accuse them

of being racist or misogynist
or otherwise horrible.

You destroy lives
and reputations for money.

No.

Is that what you dreamed of?
A career in reverse fascism?

I can't remember dreaming.

Wrong!

I thought this was my closet.

Are you expecting
a response of some kind?

No.

Uh, I see now that there
is a bolt on the door.

So, we should use it.

Yep.

- How's your room?
- I'm just sleeping there.

How's yours?

I'll let you know after I run
a UV light over the sheets.

We really shouldn't
speak anymore.

If you think that's best.

Do you think Keith
is trying to fix us up?

Even he is smarter
than that.

I don't know.
I mean, same flight.

Seated next to each other
on the plane.

Adjoining rooms.
Seated next to each other here.

You think that's
all just coincidence?

Keith has never had a thought
about another human being.

So we're just the people
you don't know where to stick?

Might as well
just stick us together.

I don't want to be a person
you don't know where to stick.

That is not the life
I imagined for myself.

I'm sure your next life
will be better.

Welp, here we go.

So that's her.

Yep.

She is a tall glass
of hemlock.

- She's Danish.
- Dutch, I thought.

Danish.
From Denmark.

I know where
Danish are from.

He looks the same
as he used to.

Plastic people don't age.

Well, I was hoping he had.

I was hoping he'd be less attractive
or on his way to obesity.

Is this the first time you've seen
him since the crushing ending?

- Is it bad?
- Yep.

- As bad as you feared?
- Yeah. Worse.

- How can this be the way the species is set up?
- I'm sorry?

How can we be allowed
to feel so much for people

who don't feel
anything for us?

You're assuming that you're
normal, which is hilarious.

- It's incredibly cruel.
- Well, look at it this way.

For a time, you carved out a place in his life
when there really shouldn't have been one.

That makes me a dipshit.

I agree.
I was just humoring you.

The truth is,
from puberty on in,

we should all just
be playing defense.

- "On in"? On in to what?
- Death.

- Oh, God.
- Officer on deck.

- So you got to know Mom.
- Plenty well enough.

So you met her twice.

Howard.

- Oh, this fucking guy.
- Who's he with?

His girlfriend.

Howard left your mother?

"Left" is not
a strong enough word. Fled.

- For an older woman?
- He would have left for an otter.

- Anyway, leaving is leaving.
- No, no.

Leaving for a younger woman
is awful, it's horrible.

But leaving for an older
woman is perverse.

Mom would have been just
as angry about a younger one.

Yeah, but she would've
been able to use her age

to rail against
a gender-unfair society.

I mean, leaving for a younger
woman's the least he could've done.

My father left her
for a younger woman.

She can think about that,
when she wants to cheer up.

But she and your father eventually
made peace though, didn't they?

Yep. Dad jumped out
a seventh-floor window,

and Mom considered them
all square.

- I'm sorry?
- Don't be.

I was not a fan.

Well, you're not a fan of
many people, is my sense.

Well, this person
shot me, so...

- He shot you?
- He did.

He said I was the embodiment
of all his bad choices.

- Did it hurt?
- Did it hurt?

Is that a serious question?

There's a metal missile
going into your body.

Yes, it hurt.
It hurt a great deal.

Well, what did you do?

I ran at him.

You ran at him?

Why didn't you
run away from him?

That didn't occur to me.
I was pissed off.

He tried to shoot me again,
but he missed.

I got the gun out of his hand, hit him in
the face with it, broke his orbital bone.

- What did he do?
- He cried.

Begged me to kill him.
I wouldn't.

Not because I didn't want to, but because
I didn't want to fuck up my life.

I mean, any more
than it already was.

Turned out I didn't
have to kill him though,

because that night,
he jumped.

It's quite a family.

Nobody's arguing.

You can't call a
78-year-old woman your "girlfriend."

It's ridiculous.

What should I call her then?

I don't know. An ossified,
pre-dead corpse-friend?

Is that in the politically
correct handbook?

I'm off the clock.

She just needs a little
more hair and makeup.

I think we passed
a mortician on the way in.

Travel with her
on your arm,

you'd better know where the
funeral parlors are at all times.

And by "On your arm,"
you mean both figuratively

and for actual
physical support.

- I've never met her.
- Better hurry.

I guess the heart wants
what the heart wants.

Or whatever the
pacemaker says it can have.

Apparently,
they went to the same college.

She was a senior
when he was a freshman.

Well, she's a senior again.

- Are you gonna say hello?
- Yep. Are you?

Yep.

Have a nice time.

- You okay?
- Nope. You?

I'm all fucked up
and I always will be.

You think anyone will notice
if I... go back to the hotel?

Nope.

Yeah.

All right.

Psst.

I mean, not to throw
stones, but he has a lot going on.

I mean... I mean, I know
I have mine,

but my father
never shot me.

I don't think he ever
even touched a gun.

I mean, there was that one time I
put those two boxes of Band-Aids

on my doll and he,
like, barely patted me.

Like, you couldn't
even call it a spanking.

It was like... He was
apologizing forever for it.

And he still feels bad.

I mean, seven floors.

I wonder if there was more
floors he could of just gone up

so he could die instantly.

Not like...

Can you die... How many...

I don't know. I guess
it depends on the building.

Very, very...

Just psychologically,
it's just interesting, but...

You don't think.

He stole from me, from his
employer, from Katherine March.

My wife... I mean
my former wife is correct.

I really can paint.

My copies were so bad
I had to destroy them.

For God's sake, he's lying.

Because he's left-handed,
you idiot.

He told me
Miss March painted them.

In my expert opinion...

He said he was going to fix
it when he left my place around 2:00 a.m.

That's when I told him...

So he
kills her with my ice pick.

And I heard her say,
"'Hello, Johnnie' before she hung up."

He was there all right.

Well, what I don't understand

is this talk
about her being an artist.

I never saw her paint.

That was one
of her peculiar traits.

She never let anyone
see her paint.

I would not have guessed, Frank, that you
were a man who enjoyed a foot massage.

I'm not. When I saw the complimentary
chit in the wedding welcome basket,

I thought, "I don't want that.

I'm not comfortable with other
people touching my feet.

I don't see why
it's necessary or good."

Then why are you here?

Because it's a $30 value,
and throwing it away

would have bothered me
even more than this does.

So, you're cheap.

Oh, I'm way worse
than cheap,

especially when it comes to free shit...
I hoard free shit.

Especially
the gray-area free shit,

like the nail files and disposable
slippers in the hotel room.

"Gray area."

I tell myself that they
want me to take it,

that I'm intended
to take it.

Do you take
the shoehorns?

Not the long ones,
only the short ones.

Well, that's not a gray area,
that's theft. You're a thief.

Do you take the shampoo,
conditioner, and body wash?

I used to, but then one
leaked in my suitcase.

Huh. What about the soaps?

Not the round soaps
wrapped in paper.

But the bigger ones,
in the boxes? Yes, I do.

So, you're a minor person
with grubby hands.

I don't understand how, even after
Keith did what he did to you,

and even in the midst
of the shame of being here,

you can possibly still
be mooning over him.

That's because
you're a monkey

who doesn't understand
the human condition.

Having met you, I understand
why it's a condition.

You don't stop
loving a person

just because
they injure you.

It helps.

- Well, love is not rational.
- Clearly.

But how could you
even like Keith?

- I never said I liked him.
- Then how can you love him?

Love has nothing
to do with like.

- Healthy people would disagree.
- Healthy people are sick.

Isn't there a part of you that just
wants to wish him well and move on?

Mmm... Most of me wants him
to be found in an icy river.

It makes no sense to want the
person you love to be dead.

Because then you'd have no one
left to love except yourself.

Which, in your case,
would be unrequited.

- I really don't want him dead.
- Good.

I want him to have a long life, during
which he is miserable every single day

before slowly
dying of regret.

There are seven billion people
in the world.

So when one of them
behaves badly toward you,

he's actually doing you a great
favor because he's saving you time.

He's telling you that
he's not worth your while.

He's freeing you to say,
"Thank you for the information.

I will now move on to
the 6,999,999,999 other people,

some of whom
may have some value."

And is that what
you've done, Frank?

Just sifted,
calmly and sensibly,

through the entire population,
searching for your soul mate?

No, I have opted out, which
makes me uniquely qualified

to observe and comment
on your situation.

Oh, I am so lucky.

- It was a long time ago.
- Not an eternity.

- You were both very young.
- Old enough to know right from wrong.

Incidentally, I spoke
to the bride last night.

Oh, she does not have the
sense God gave a toaster.

She's a moron, and her breasts
were built on a medical bench.

But she said to tell you that
she hopes you can be friends.

You talked about me?

She didn't give you
a lot of airtime.

She has trouble
stringing sentences together.

And she uses a lot
of personal pronouns,

so you're not always quite sure
who she's talking about.

Well done, Keith.

But if it helps, she said
she's not threatened by you.

Yes, that helps
tremendously.

At least I think
she was talking about you.

She said "her." I'm pretty
sure she meant you.

- Wow. What do you care anyway?
- I don't.

I'm just trying to amuse myself
and get to tomorrow.

Do you care
about anything?

How many times in your life
have you been in love?

Once.

What was it like?

How does anybody drink wine
at 11:00 in the morning?

It's a winery, Frank.

Haven't you ever given out a Car
of the Year award at 11:00?

I can still taste toothpaste.

- You were absolutely right.
- What did you say?

A destination wedding
is presumptuous.

"Please drag your carcass
hundreds of miles

to excessively celebrate
our happiness."

Yeah. "Because our
wedding is so special,

it needs to be
an epic imposition."

"It's far too important to celebrate
in anybody's shit-ass hometown."

"Or on one calendar day. So kindly
give up your entire weekend."

"And spend a fuck-ton of your own
money, over and above the gift."

I bet you loved
the minibar prices.

It's like 80 cents
per cashew.

What's hilarious
is that these two

have no idea they're
in a fool's paradise.

You really think that?

I've spent most of my life dodging the
shrapnel from my mother's marriages,

both of which started
with smiles as big as theirs.

Some marriages work out.

Yes, and some people
have six fingers.

So I'm guessing
you're single.

I decided to learn
from my parents' mistakes.

It's a form
of evolution.

Yeah, but you can't blame people for
believing their own lives will be different.

Yes, I can.
It's incredibly egotistical.

It might help you to consider the
idea that heartbreak is pointless,

because if you had
wound up with the person,

eventually, you would've
been miserable anyway.

Actually that does help,
thank you.

No problem.

But don't you believe there's
someone for everyone?

Close.

I believe that there's
nobody for anyone.

I wish your mother and Howard's
corpse-friend were playing.

They could try and dislodge
each other's tunnel catheters.

Have you talked
to the corpse-friend?

Briefly. She's dull, and she
needs a week at depilatory camp.

- Maybe she's rich.
- I sure hope so.

Get her!

Do you ever think
it's a crutch though,

blaming your mother and
father for everything?

When did crutches
get a bad name?

When you have a broken leg,
you need a crutch.

In fact, it would be stupid
not to have a crutch.

Well, yeah,
but broken legs heal.

I mean don't you have
a responsibility to yourself

to eventually cast aside the
crutches and meet new challenges?

If the parent-child bond
is diseased,

you have a better chance of being a
sociopath than of being well-adjusted.

I consider it a triumph
of the will

that there aren't shallow graves
dotting my backyard.

Besides, who are you to talk?

Simple heartbreak like yours should be,
relatively speaking, a piece of cake to get over.

Well, it's not.

I'd rather be strong and ruined
than weak and ruined.

I'm not weak.
I just have hope.

That's the same thing.

How do you not install steps
or a pathway for this shit?

They warned us. It was
in the Welcome Basket.

This is a fucking
liability nightmare.

That's right,
sue Keith again.

Can't we just get the van
to drive us up?

- We're going 90 feet.
- Well, the heels won't make it.

Then take them off
until we get there.

- I just got a foot massage.
- So?

I'm not gonna show up at my
ex-fiancé's wedding with dirty feet.

You can clean them off
at the grape wash.

- Can't you just carry me, please?
- What?

- I can't believe I have to ask.
- What?

- It's 90 feet.
- How much do you weigh?

- Frank.
- I don't want to shed my mortal coil.

Well, if that happens,
you can put me down.

You have a high,
specific gravity.

Yeah, dense bones.

Really deceptive avoirdupois.

This is the slowest
I've ever been carried.

Oh, dear God, be quiet.

Can you just let me off
at the top though,

so no one sees
that you carried me?

Why? Maybe Keith will get
jealous and rethink everything.

Keith has
forgotten I'm here.

Fuck me.

It's 800 degrees.

Why is the minister
in a seersucker suit?

Because he's not a minister.

He's Keith's friend
from college.

Levy, I think his name is.

- Kaplan?
- Kaplan, right.

- Is he wearing makeup?
- Always.

Usually
the Nars Radiant Creamy.

If memory serves,
he's gay.

The correct term is "Effeminate
American." And actually he's pansexual.

What does that mean?

He's attracted
to all genders,

gender identities,
and sexual orientations.

- Come on.
- I'm telling you.

How'd he get the gig?

He fucked the bride
and the groom.

- Which was, like, no big deal.
- Vanilla.

I mean, because he would fuck, for
example, a man who believes he's a woman?

Absolutely.

Or a straight woman who believes
she's actually a gay man?

- Not a day goes by.
- What about hermaphrodites?

You'd have to think.

They just let anyone
officiate at weddings?

Not anyone. You need a credit
card and an Internet connection.

- You researched this?
- Oh, I researched everything.

I knew where
we would buy a house,

where our kids would be born,
where they'd go to school.

I knew where we'd be buried.

Do you become a clergyman in
an online church of some sort?

No, you can
just do weddings.

- Not baptisms?
- No.

- Funerals? Bar Mitzvahs?
- Just weddings.

- How many believers does he have?
- No believers. No congregation.

- Does his church preach that there's a heaven?
- Ain't got no church.

Why would anyone have my
mother as the maid of honor?

I don't know. It's like having
the Grim Reaper at your CAT scan.

If I had a nickel for every time she
said to me, "I am not your maid."

- Was she born during the Great Depression?
- No, she caused it.

- You know who I feel sorry for?
- Yourself?

Anne's father.

Why? He's the only one here
who wasn't married to my mother.

Because once upon a time, he was the Most
Important Male Person In Anne's Life,

the "M.P.I.A.L." if you will.

I will, but only
if I have to.

It's dangerous for a father
to pass that mantle.

Just because he's Danish doesn't mean
he was fucking his own daughter.

In a very real sense,
by virtue of cultivating

a healthy, loving relationship with
her, showing her, day after day,

year after year, how a good
man should comport himself,

he's been preparing
her whole life for marriage.

- To Keith.
- Exactly.

That's the lamb to
the slaughter right there.

She and her dad have been leading with
their chins, cruising for a bruising.

Asking for it.
It's a total sucker play.

Or so you've heard.

There's a sucker that reaches
age of consent every minute.

When Keith turns out to be
the mythic jerk that he is,

all of her carefully curated
self-esteem will be destroyed,

a father will have lost a
daughter, and where will she be?

Right here
with the rest of us.

I used to love this song.

Do you want to dance?

- I said "used to."
- Fine.

- Why, do you want to dance?
- Of course not, I hate dancing.

It's moronic and a
complete waste of time.

You're not that busy.

I just thought maybe you wanted to
dance to get your mind off things.

I don't and it wouldn't.

Fine. I said fine.

Neither of us wants
to fucking dance.

I can't help but hope
Keith tears a hip muscle.

Can we take a walk?

- How are the shoes?
- They're fine.

I didn't really want to go through
the whole entire selection,

but I have weird arches
on my mom's side.

- So they're good.
- Yeah.

Okay.

You know after
the whole thing with Keith,

- I was diagnosed with PTSD.
- Rich person's PTSD.

- Privileged person's PTSD.
- Okay, I do know what you're saying.

This is why people
hate the top one percent.

- I am not the top one percent.
- Neither am I.

When people talk about the top
one percent like it's home,

it drives me fucking crazy.

You know who's actually
in the top one percent

are the assholes
that run the companies

that I prosecute
and you reward.

Top ten, top 20 percent,
whatever it is.

The segment of society
that doesn't have to worry

about basic things like food,
clothing, shelter, transportation,

or getting shot
by the police.

So we're not allowed
to have problems?

We're allowed to have them, but
no one is interested in them.

And I don't blame them,
I'm not even interested.

We're trite, trivial,
tiresome, tone-deaf narcissists.

I never said I wasn't
a tone-deaf narcissist.

- The optics are very bad.
- Nobody's looking.

We should keep our shit
to ourselves.

We are keeping it
to ourselves.

Besides, it's human nature to find pain in
any situation, however relatively fortunate.

That doesn't
make it listenable.

Well, I'm sorry if my brand of pain
is out of vogue, but it's all I got.

It would be so much more
interesting and fantastic

if we had been
fondled by priests

or lost a leg but could
still feel it or something.

My theory about
myself is that my soma

is sending me a Darwinian
message telling me,

"Hey, you're unfit to pass your
DNA on to future generations,

so you should just select out."

Well, just keep doing
what you're doing.

But I have
so much to give.

Not really.

Holy shit, Frank.
What is that?

I think it's a mountain lion.

- Could it be a jaguar?
- I don't know. I'm not a zookeeper.

It's too big for an
ocelot or a bearcat,

but too small
for a panther, I think.

What the fuck difference does it make
what it is? It's a fucking predator cat.

A cougar, maybe?

- Jesus Christ.
- I don't know what you're worried about.

- It's gonna go for me.
- Why?

I saw a thing. They pick out
the smallest of the herd.

We're not a herd,
we're wedding guests.

I'm telling you,
you're safe if you just run.

You run.
I'll stay here and fight.

Uh, yeah,
but I'm not a sprinter.

I run for distance, so it
gives me a certain clarity...

Yes, all right.

You run.
I'll stay here and fight.

How about if we both run
and nobody stays and fights?

Neither one of us
can outrun a cheetah.

It's not a fucking cheetah.
We're not in Africa.

They're also in Iran,
I think it said.

They won't even
hear us scream.

I hate those
fucking people.

On the plus side,
you'll be ruining Keith's wedding.

- That's true.
- Unless they don't find us for weeks.

And then only in pieces, some of
which were brought back to its lair.

Last chance on the running.

I can't believe you're the last human
person I'm ever gonna talk to.

There might be EMTs.

Yeah, but I might
be a hemophiliac.

Might be?
Don't you know that already?

Well, no, because you can get things
as an adult, like adult onset asthma.

My friend Suzanne has that...

- Now we run!
- Oh!

- That was good, Frank.
- My throat is really raw.

But why are
we still running?

Because I don't
think it's a bad idea

to put as much distance between us
and the mountain lion as possible.

It might've
been a lynx!

It would be so
ironic if I strangled you.

Why do you have to ruin
a nice moment!

- Ow!
- Ah, fuck! Ah, fuck!

- Ow! Ow!
- Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Ah!

Okay. Oh.

For the record,
you ruined the moment, not me.

Lindsay?

Lindsay?

I'm fine!
For God's sake. Jesus.

- Great.
- I just had the wind knocked out of me.

Okay, good.

It was good, because you didn't have
the first clue what you were doing.

Hey, it's been a while
since health class.

Yeah, well, if you thought
I had a cervical injury,

the last thing you're supposed
to do is flip a person over

like a fuckin' pancake.

- I'm sorry.
- But on the other hand, you did save me.

Us.

I told you,
it would have gone for me.

Why did you do that?
Why did you save me?

I didn't save you.

Why did you save me?

Because I'm an idiot.

- You could've died.
- Of idiocy.

Don't tell me
you're secretly noble.

I'm not.

But I thought,
"Maybe she's right.

Maybe hers
is the life in danger.

She seems to know
fuckin' everything."

And I didn't want to feel guilty for the
rest of my life about not having saved you.

I get that.

- I didn't want to think of myself as selfish.
- Frank.

As that selfish. Not on top of everything
else I already think about myself.

Copy you.

'Cause it's not like
I have so much to live for.

Yeah, well,
that's true.

Well, anyway, thank you.

What the fuck, Frank?

I'm sorry.
I don't know what that was.

Neither do I,
for fuck's sake. Jesus.

- Goddamn it!
- I'm sorry.

- What is wrong with you?
- I don't know.

What the fuck?

Let's just...
Come on.

Mmm.

Can't... Just put it on...

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry,
it's just very difficult

for me to give myself over to
any sort of positive activity.

Yeah.
Especially this one.

It makes me think about how
long I've gone without it,

which makes me
want to kill myself.

Yeah, well, I've been pretty
sure for a very long time

that life is essentially
a horrible experience,

and I really don't need
this kind of confusion.

- And pressure.
- Yeah.

I mean, if it all sucks,
then fuck it,

but if it doesn't all suck,
then there's so much pressure.

Yeah.

God, do you even know
how long it's been

since I've been touched with
affection by another human being?

How about without affection?

Nearly as long.

I tell you right now, I haven't
felt pleasure since about 2006.

Sometimes, I feel
the absence of pain,

which at this point
feels like pleasure,

or at least pleasure's
little cousin.

I don't have protection.

Well, why would you?

I mean, why would you
have a condom today?

What are the odds?
Astronomical.

- What if you got pregnant?
- I'm sure my womb is hostile.

Having sex right now
would be irresponsible.

Well, who cares?

I mean, how much worse
can things get?

- Okay.
- Yeah?

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

All right.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

Okay.

How's that?

That's fine.

Do you think the mountain lion
will be attracted to the musk?

I think it was a puma.

How is it now?

It feels strange
yet pleasantly familiar,

kind of like coming off a long
diet or going back to smoking.

How about now?

Do you have
any diseases?

Of course not.

I missed every
possible sexual revolution.

The first one,
the one after Tinder,

- the one after Caitlyn Jenner...
- Me, too.

Crabs.

You have crabs?

No, actual crabs.

Over there.

Those aren't crabs,
those are tarantulas.

They look like crabs.

No, they don't.

And besides,
they don't attack humans.

Now you're just
making shit up.

Oh, yes, for the thrill
of fucking you.

- Let's get it over with.
- Fine.

My mother used to tell me to always
use two condoms when you have sex.

The second one
always had to be bigger.

- It looked like a wind sock.
- That's so stupid.

Each condom would cause
the other one to break.

A fact discovered, astraddle,
in the summer after 12th grade,

by a nice girl named Auden
who had no quarrel with anyone.

She ran screaming
from our rec room.

Of course, you had sex
in your rec room.

We had a Nutone intercom system.

The master control
was in the kitchen.

My parents could listen and talk to
any room in the house from there.

I used to call the kitchen
"The Eagle's Nest."

When my father heard
Auden wailing,

he screamed
through the intercom,

"What the fuck
is going on down there?"

I said what happened.

There was a pause,

and then my mother said,
"Dinner's ready."

Your mother cooked?

On the off-chance
that we are making a baby,

do you want a boy
or a girl?

You're asking me this now?

I'm killing time.

Uh, a boy.

My mother actually told
me there's a way to get a boy.

- Oh, this ought to be good.
- Yeah.

At the moment of climax, just
shout out, "Oh, boy! Oh, boy!"

Can we please stop
talking about your mother.

But I don't know why
you'd possibly want a boy,

considering, you know,

the baseline quality of
your relationships with men.

Oh. What, revenge?

Oh, Jesus, Frank!

Jesus effing Christ!

Oh, God, you look like
you're gonna throw up!

Why would I?
You're a very attractive woman.

Not from that.

Oh, right,
sorry.

Oh, God!

No!
No, no, no, no!

- No?
- No, not "no."

I'm just
a very negative person.

Okay.

I'm expressing
incredulity!

Got it.

- No!
- Ah!

No! No! No!
No! No!

Oh, boy!
Oh, boy!

Oh, boy!

Yeah!
Oh, boy!

Anytime, pal.

Can you not talk right now?

Fine.

- It's gonna get cold out.
- No, it won't.

Yes, it will.
It's the Paso Robles Diurnal.

There's
sweeping wind temperatures.

Don't you know anything
about meteorology?

No!

Oh, God. Kelp.

- Help?
- No, kelp.

There's kelp at
or near my vagina.

Oh, that's grass.
We're in grass.

How is that better?

You put the ocean in my head
with the fucking crabs.

What?

I had a purse.

Do you want a drink?

I want all the drinks poured
directly down my gullet.

Why don't we go to your room
and crack open your minibar?

Why don't we
go to your room

and crack open
your goddamn minibar?

Frank.
We're alive.

What does that have
to do with anything?

- How do you know the words to this?
- Come on.

What?

But at some point,

don't you think it just starts
to look a little ridiculous?

Think about it, this guy was formally
the head of the committee...

"Formerly," not "form-ally."

I know, it's appalling.

Seriously, the chocolate?

We're not going to drink without eating.
Alcoholics do that.

The chocolate
is the most expensive thing

in the minibar
besides the...

wine.

Would you rather we had
ordered room service?

Definitely not.

I spoke to the front desk.

They add a delivery fee,
a 17 percent gratuity,

and some sort of fuckin' cover
charge, like we're in Italy.

I've always wondered why
they give you two glasses

even when
you're traveling alone.

Because one
would be so sad.

Here's to...
What?

Please.

It's not hashish.

I'm not wearing anything
under my pajamas.

Why would you?
They're so alluring.

I didn't think I was gonna
be intimate this weekend.

Or any weekend.

Superman couldn't see
through those pajamas.

So you tried.

People have jousted
in lighter clothing.

- Frank?
- Present.

When you said before that
I was an attractive woman,

what did you mean?

What do you mean
what did I mean?

You're an attractive woman.
You're physically appealing.

Can you be more specific?

Your facial features
subscribe to the Golden Ratio.

What?

One to the quantity one half
times radical five plus one.

The Golden Ratio.

You can tell that?

It's an estimate.

And you have
The Folds of Aphrodite.

What are the Folds
of Aphrodite?

That's the name of the
particular, graceful way

that the cheeks
of beautiful women

arrange themselves
when they smile.

There's a gentle creasing
that begins at the cheekbone

and runs downward,
in a slightly arced diagonal,

directing the eye
to the mouth.

It's aesthetically thrilling.

Well...
I've never heard the term

"Folds of Aphrodite."

I coined it.

Then it's not a real thing.

Then it and you
are bullshit.

I googled around and there was
no name for it so I coined it.

- It's established now.
- Bullshit.

In my experience, there's at least a 90
percent correlation between beautiful women

- and women who have The Folds of Aphrodite.
- Oh...

The Folds cut across races
and ethnicities.

What else about me?

Well...

you're slender,

but not to the point of a
troubled relationship with food.

That's actionable profiling,
right there.

File a grievance.

And your curves are very
sexy but not vulgar.

Everything very much
in proportion,

firm but not overly,

which I've always found
weird and prepossessing.

Your arms bespeak physical
fitness and athleticism,

but nothing sapphic.

And your ankles quietly aver

that you will keep your body
well into later age.

It's despicable
the way men look at women.

In short, you are beautiful,
graceful, and elegant.

Also, you don't dress
in an overtly sexy way.

You seem to understand
that dressing sexy

is actually the opposite
of being sexy,

that certain information
should have to be earned,

rather than given away
for free

to anyone and everyone
who passeth by your doorstep.

If this were 1732.

I'm giving you
a compliment.

You're calling me
a prude.

I'm suggesting that
you've taken the high road.

Even in this flagrant,
flaunting day and age,

you have chosen
to preserve the mystery.

Yes, the pajamas go too far,
but I applaud the ethos.

- Would you like to know about you?
- No.

Yes, you would.

You're very handsome.

You have powerful eyes.

Your hair
will never be a problem.

The corners
of your mouth touch

but do not cross the vertical
lines which bisect your eyes.

In profile, your chin extends
exactly the same as your lower lip,

which is an ideal.

Bodily, you feel strong and
substantial, sinuous but not wiry.

Sartorially,
you get high marks.

You tuck in your shirts
because you realize

that tails out is
a ridiculous way to dress.

You wear your pants low, and
your shoes are legitimate.

And you have
a beautiful penis.

I do?

Oh, come on, Frank.

Surely people have told you
that your entire life.

No.

Well, it's very nice.

It's straight,

and you would not believe how
epidemic a problem that is.

Also,
it's balletically formed.

It's not so big as to ever
be a cause for concern,

but it's big enough never to be
the object of ridicule or scorn.

You're in
a very sweet spot there.

Are you saying that Keith's
penis is not straight?

Can you imagine that we would
have gone this entire weekend

without saying these
things to each other?

- "Balletically formed"?
- That's right.

People are
ridiculous and pathetic.

Animals, that's all.

We want to believe that there's some
high-minded, cosmic meaning behind love,

but the truth is
we're drawn to,

and make most of our
decisions based upon,

shapes we find appealing,
and colors and textures

and smells and tastes
and spatial relations.

It's so stupid.

This is pretty good.

I mean, when I think about
what people look like

when they kiss or have sex,
I want to vomit.

You almost did vomit.

I mean, there's nothing beautiful
or transcendent about being human.

Ultimately,
it's just a filthy business

of a revolting species
trying to survive.

I mean, if you've ever really
watched another person eat,

or seen yourself in a mirror
taking a shit,

or walked through
South Coast Plaza,

you know exactly
what I'm talking about.

But I had my eyes open
when I was fucking you,

and I thought we must
have looked pretty good.

My father thought
he had a good golf swing.

Wait.

Do a groove chew.

I'm sorry?

It's a style
of chewing used

when you're really
enjoying something

that you don't have
very often.

Like this.

Mm!

Mm!

- This is a thing?
- I coined it.

And you're not embarrassed?

All right, just come on.
Just try.

- Mmm...
- Mm.

- Mmm!
- Mmm-mm!

- Can you groove swallow?
- You can.

- Can we groove swallow now?
- Okay, fine.

- Huh?
- Uh...

I remember the
first time I ever saw you.

It was a partial nephrectomy.

You were standing in for Dr.
Sumner who had an emergency.

With your cap and mask,

all I could see
were your eyes.

And I remember thinking...

thank God.

Because anything more
would be too much to bear.

Stop worrying
about fucking each other

and start saving the people
who are dying in your hospital.

Your patient has a
snake in his urethra.

You should all
lose your licenses.

When my time comes,
I will sign a DNR.

I won't.
I want to be resuscitated.

I want to be intubated, revived,
retrieved, and prolonged.

I want them
to zap me with clappers

and inject my heart with that long needle
of adrenaline... whatever it takes.

What? But, what if
there's no hope?

There's already no hope.

But what if you're just
a burden to your family

and, by extension, the
entire health-care system?

Won't give a shit.

I want them
to stave off death.

I don't care if there's turnips
with better brain-wave patterns.

Legumes.

But I thought
you hated life.

I do, but I'm going to
be dead for a long time,

so there's no rush.

Do you want
to have children?

I'd rather be dead
in a ditch.

Oh.

I mean, why would I do
that to those poor souls?

Well, for the same reason
you want to be resuscitated.

Because being, as bad as it
is, is better than not being.

This is a horrible place
to be.

Central California,
or the whole thing?

I'm already alive.
I already know shit.

But unborn children
are none the wiser

and deserve to be protected
from certain things,

like being alive
in the first place.

That makes no sense.

Living was not my choice.
It was my mother's.

Have you ever heard
of anything more selfish?

- I hope I'm not pregnant.
- That's all I'm saying.

Why did your father
leave your mother?

Because he could.

Because he had the power
of locomotion.

Why did she keep and hyphenate
both her divorced last names?

Because she thought
it made her sound aristocratic.

Also, this way
she gets all her mail.

And what would you say
is the major barrier

to a warm relationship between
you and your half-brother?

He's a douchebag. Why are you
asking me these questions?

Just... I don't know.

I'm just evaluating your qualifications
as an ongoing love interest.

Not that
I'm advocating that.

Clearly, you're an emotional
cripple, as am I.

I don't have any qualifications as an
ongoing love interest and neither do you.

But love interest
is too strong a word.

I, um... Affection.

Interest.
Tolerance interest.

This isn't
going to be ongoing.

What, you've just decided
that unilaterally?

- For both our sakes.
- I don't get a say?

No, you have terrible judgment
in this regard.

What, but... I...

My head is finally
clear, thanks to you.

I mean, I haven't thought about
Keith since the mountain lion.

So you admit
it was a mountain lion.

Do you have any idea
how huge this is for me?

If it's true,
the mountain lion and I

are happy to have
performed that service.

But now, apparently, no
good deed goes unpunished.

I think
I finally have closure.

I don't trust that statement
and neither should you.

But you want to.

You don't just jump from one
love object to another.

- Tolerance object.
- That's how mistakes are made.

All I make are mistakes.

At least this one
would be fun.

Are you having fun
right now?

Yes. I mean, we're kind of
arguing, but there's hope.

This is an interlude.

A weekend.

A small oasis of time
in which we can taste intimacy

like it's a piece of free
salami at Trader Joe's.

Why not? You're in the store anyway,
and you forgot to eat breakfast,

and it tastes okay, and afterwards
there's no salami fallout.

When no one's looking, you just
drop the toothpick onto the floor.

Man, you're not one of the...
Do you do that?

Well, there's no garbage
pails in that place,

and it's unsanitary to put the
toothpick on the receptacle napkin.

All right,
le... just... Okay.

Just... I'm just
devil's advocate.

Maybe...

just what if, okay?

What if it's more?

What if there actually
is something to the idea

of a destination wedding?

What if we've been thinking about
this whole thing backwards?

What if...

I know, but what if our real
destination was each other?

What if you
never say that again?

What if happiness
is... contagious?

Why would you think
that meeting someone

has anything to do
with being happy?

Because!

Once upon a time,
I met someone,

and I was happy...
I thought.

Personally, I'd be worried
if my life philosophy

began with
"Once Upon a Time."

Well, I was raised
by optimists.

But you have a preponderance
of counter-evidence.

Were you not watching
your own engagement?

- How could I have been?
- What's wrong with you?

Nothing. Sometimes I just
willfully reject irony.

You are doomed.

Maybe we saved
each other, Frank.

I mean, did you ever
think about it like that?

No. Neither should you.

I wonder how many
people met at weddings

- and then went on to...
- Thirty-two.

Why not, you know,
extend the oasis?

A good day here,
a good day there,

pretty soon you're just talking
about a couple of good days.

What time does our flight
land tomorrow night?

I don't know,
about 7:30?

I will extend it until
tomorrow at about 7:30.

Well, there's no point in
extending it another four seconds

if you're not gonna keep your
mind open to the possibilities.

Why do people need the
dangled carrot of a future?

Because we do.

Because connection
is precious,

therefore, it is immoral

to just treat each other
like dalliances,

even if that's what
we wind up being.

But that's exactly what
we wind up being.

Permanence is a myth,
an a... an illusion.

Well, I didn't say anything
about permanence.

I was speaking of a slightly
lengthier temporariness.

What's the point?

I just told you
what the point was.

But when it's over, you're
right back at square zero.

I will not
keep my mind open.

Well, then
just keep it open

to the possibility
of keeping it open.

No.

Really?

Oh, wow. That's... I...
I'm almost, I'm almost...

You know what,
if you can't or won't,

then you simply
can't or won't.

- That's my blanket.
- "That's my blanket."

You might want to shake out
the Pringle fragments.

"You might want to shake out
the Pringle fragments."

If you want to leave,
just say so.

- I very much want to leave.
- Say it again.

You debate like a child.

You eat like a raccoon.

You're fucking up.

How about
if I keep my mind open

to the possibility
of keeping my mind open

to the possibility
of keeping my mind open?

That is just one metalevel
too removed.

Come on.

Get back into bed.

Let's find out who the
nephrologist is sleeping with.

Fine.

But only until
the next commercial break.

And with no sexual reprise.

And only because I do want to know who
the nephrologist is sleeping with.

Okay.

When I look at
you, I don't see smallpox.

And it's "re-prize."

It's "re-preeze."

- "Re-prize."
- It's... "re-preeze."

Jesus,
is it Kristallnacht?

Oh, it's housekeeping.

They're not going to
get that reference.

Mas retardos!

Ah...

Oh... You shouldn't be in here.

This is my room.

Then I shouldn't be
in here.

Okay.

How did I wind up
in this position?

You made some
poor life choices.

No, in this position.
I'm half off the bed.

Why is my nose bleeding?

I think I have a spinal injury.

You feel pregnant?

I wouldn't know.

What's your gut say?

What it always says.

"Don't listen to me."

But if you did listen?

I don't feel any different,
if that's what you mean.

- Good.
- How is that good?

Why would you want me to perpetuate
my general circumstances?

You can do anything you want
with your circumstances.

I was thinking
of my circumstances.

Which are so wonderful.

We shouldn't have spent
the night together.

You wouldn't let me leave.

I didn't want it to end
on a bad note.

Also,
you're in the next room.

It would have been
spectacularly awkward.

As opposed to this.

We tried, okay?
We did.

But at some point there's just not
enough optimism left inside a person

to sustain something
like this, you know?

You broken preacher,
me broken choir.

I think it's important we recognize
that and verbalize it openly,

so as to avoid
any discomfort.

Oh. Mission accomplished.

Good.

Do you have everything?

Oh, um... Yeah.

I think, uh, my...

Can we still hang together
at the farewell brunch?

Uh, who else
am I gonna hang with?

Although I suppose
I could hang with myself.

Well, I'm going to shove some tissues
up my nostrils and take a shower.

Sounds like
good-bye to me.

Well, what do you think, about
time we head to the airport?

It's really close.

Fifteen minutes.

- Well, our flight's not for...
- Five hours.

- There could be traffic.
- Why take chances?

Then we should just
say our good-byes.

Good-bye.

Want your farewell gift?

The farewell is my gift,
but please, take mine.

Who was San Luis Obispo,
anyway?

And what the fuck did he do
to become a saint?

Thirteenth Century Bishop
of Toulouse.

Served the poor, left the
Church, and died of typhus.

That's all it takes?

It was in
the welcome basket.

Why would you canonize a guy
who left the Church?

Why look to France when you're
naming a city in California?

And what the fuck happened
with the urban planning here?

- At some point, did they just give up?
- Right.

On the off, off chance
that I ever have a wedding,

I would never make
anyone travel to it.

I don't think you'll have
to worry about that.

Because you're
a decent person.

Not because
you won't get married.

Oh, come on.

Why do we live, Frank?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

I'm serious.

The work we do isn't
meaningful in any great sense.

The connections we make
invariably fall to ruin.

Everything we build
burns to the ground.

Meaning is a myth, like you've
said, so why do we live?

I was so enjoying
the silence.

It has to be that the myth
isn't a myth for everyone.

Well, it's certainly a myth
for those two. Look at them.

They'd rather burst into flames
than to fuck each other.

- You don't know that.
- Oh, yes, I do.

It's possible that within the
myth, there's a sliver of truth,

and you have to believe
in that sliver wholeheartedly,

come what may,
despite the rational mind,

because if you...
if you don't,

the myth just reveals
itself to be a myth,

and meaninglessness becomes
a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Try as I might, I cannot get
behind wine in screw-top bottles.

Also, you have to encourage
others to believe in the myth.

Because if they believe,
they can do anything.

They can laugh,
cry, hope,

vote, get married.

But if they don't, they can't
do anything, I mean not really,

except make themselves as shallowly
happy and comfortable as possible.

Which is just vanity,
let's face it.

For me,
wine in a screw-top

will always carry the
stench of chintziness.

What if we're
falling in love?

Don't get me wrong,
I'm not a big fan of cork.

You ever see it on a wall or
in the heels of an espadrille?

Ridiculous.

But for wine, it conveys
a certain necessary élan.

What if love
comes for everyone?

Don't be absurd.

What if no one is immune,
not even us?

Stop it.

It would be remiss
not to embrace the miracle.

What happened between us
was not a miracle.

It was actually much closer
to a debacle.

- Maybe that's what you meant.
- Oh, come on.

You don't find it miraculous

that two people like us
forged any kind of bond?

I find it "debaculous."

It was a miracle.

It required forever
being seated together.

It required an adjoining door
and a near-death experience.

What are you waiting for,
a burning bush?

I can't believe you're
bringing this up again.

I thought we had
an understanding.

We had come
to an agreement.

We're less than an hour away
from parting as friends.

Okay, but deep down,

in your broken,
miserable gut,

don't you want something
that's pure

and in its own grotesque
way, beautiful?

No.

Don't you want to secretly
have a romantic life

that confirms your hopes
instead of your cynicism?

No.

Don't you want to believe
that things like this

actually do happen?

Nope. I'm fond
of my cynicism.

It's very comfortable.

- Like a warm blanket of your own shit.
- Yes. Yes.

I'm very comfortable
and warm

in my fucking warm blanket
of fucking shit.

But what if
we're falling in love?

Dear God...

I mean, what if this
is what it's like?

It would end
in disaster.

- What if it didn't?
- It would.

- I know.
- Good.

- But...
- Stop.

- Ah...
- Stop.

But...

Oh!

This is not funny. Don't
laugh at me, please.

I'm laughing
out of affection.

No one laughs at another
person out of affection.

You laugh at another
person out of contempt.

No. I'm laughing
'cause it's cute.

- It is?
- Yes.

But, fine,
I'll stop laughing.

Thank you.

- Frank?
- Yes?

Don't you, like,
have an instinct about me?

Nope.

I think you do.

You're the one who said
your gut can't be trusted.

That's true.

For a long time,
it's been a lying bitch.

But I would have been willing
to give it another shot.

Why? I mean, how much shit
has to fall on your head

before you start
wearing a hat?

You can't die from jumping
out of a basement window.

Of course you can. You can hit
your head on a pipe or something.

You're going to wish you
embraced the miracle, Frank.

You're gonna wish you had.

How are your pants,
John Wayne Bobbitt?

Sticky.

We shouldn't exchange
contact information.

There's no point.

I think
I just said that.

It was very nice
to meet you.

It was very nice
to meet you too.

I know what
you're going to say...

- "It's not you, it's me."
- No, it's you.

It's me.

Yeah.
I know.

- It's you.
- I... Yep.

I liked the bow
though.

Why didn't we meet
seven years ago, Frank?

Just lucky, I guess.

14 Catalina Drive,
Newport Beach, please?

What are you doing?
Don't give your exact address.

You don't know
who the driver is.

Thank you for caring.

I don't. I would've
said the same to anyone.

We're holding up
the line, Frank.

There are other people
in the world.

There are?

Do you have a whistle?

And then taxation.

We get shut down
every single time by your...

- Idea you have so far.
- No, no, no.

Can I speak?
Can I speak?

- Please.
- Because of your...

- Hold on. Hold on.
- That's what I...

- Just wait a second, all right?
- I'm working on it.

It's the guys who
stand by in all their philosophies

and all their ideas and
everything that they represent.

They're talking about
the silent majority.

I don't know.
I mean, listen,

- if you look at the facts again...
- Hold on.

They're having a sidebar here.
Hold on.

How can we even bring
that up at this point?

- But what fact?
- In the media.

You're not getting paid here.

You have got to look
at what your guy did too.

Oh, really?
There it is again.

There's the same thing
right there.

It's the same response
for the other side. Yeah.

Yeah, but never mind
because your guy was worse...

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