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Mr. And Mrs. Goldfarb would be sitting in the middle of the street… saving a parking space for their kids who were coming next weekend. And you up here on your own. It’s hard to find a quiet place in Brooklyn to think. Or to replay whatever argument I just had with my mother. Yes. Yeah, she’s terrifying. I thought she was gonna kill me and feed me to the poor. Yeah, she’s a piece of work. But for better or worse, she’s the voice in my head pushing me to do better. Challenge the accepted wisdom. Never settle for a B instead of an A on a test. You once got a B? Hypothetically speaking. Right. Of course, no matter how hard I try, I will never live up to her expectations. Well, there are worse things in life. Like no one having any expectations. There’s something amuck with this sponge cake. Tofu. You’re not concentrating. This offends me. Yeah, I’m sorry, Ton. I lost Lucy. I just think it’s a shame because I’ve come to rely on her for everything. And I trust her completely, and she’s funny. Not deliberately, of course. Hey, you know, it’s probably for the best though. Oh, yeah? Why is that? Two things I know is chess and women. Chess, it has rules, pieces, rooks, knights, bishops. They move in predictable patterns. Somebody wins, somebody loses. But women, they don’t have no rules, man. They move in unpredictable ways too. Nobody ever wins or loses when it comes to women. You talk about your feelings until your breath is sucked out your body. All men are pawns when it comes to women. Especially a smart one like Lucy. She’s hard to control. And you know, the man has got to be in control. Like with me. I come home. When I walk in, I know my mama has dinner on the table. All right, so you’re still living at home? Yeah. Yeah. Of course. LUCY: Here’s somebody interesting, Polly St. Clair. Well, it’s a terrific résumé, Polly. Congratulations on the baby. What baby? Maybe you should check with me before you talk. What baby? I’d like to talk about your moot-court experience. What baby? Yeah, what baby? GEORGE: You should do the interviews on your own from now on. LUCY: Whatever you say, baby. Harry Raskin, Richard Beck. There’s some interesting prospects for my replacement. Let’s see. Richard Kelly from Yale. No, it’s gotta be a woman. What a surprise. I suppose a certain bust size would help. Maybe some bathing-suit shots? It will annoy Howard if it’s a woman. Oh. Thank you. Tell you what. All I want is someone as intelligent as you… but a little less tense and argumentative. A sort of Katharine Hepburn figure. You don’t deserve Katharine Hepburn. Audrey Hepburn. Also too good. Just stay away from the Hepburns. You forgot a beet. Beet. Oh. Thank you. GEORGE: I’ve got that charity tennis thing tonight. And I need to know, does this shirt make me look a bit kind of Björn Borg? Ansel and I got into a huge fight, and I think we just broke up. Really? He wants me to go on a Greenpeace boat. He thinks I can’t embrace life. Is that the case? Because I just don’t see it. I just don’t see it. And by the way, how can I embrace him when he is never here? Maybe it’s me. Maybe the rose-colored glasses have finally come off. Okay. We obviously can’t leave you alone with the stapler. I’ll tell you what. I’ll cancel tennis. They always make me play with Ed Koch. What can we do to cheer you up? Nothing. There’s no solution. Good. Good attitude. I can’t help it if I don’t like boats. Surely not all boats. Yes, all boats. LUCY: I don’t understand. What is wrong with me? GEORGE: At the moment, huge quantities of alcohol. LUCY: I don’t know. I just seem to drive men away. There’s Ansel. There’s Billy from Legal Aid who ran off with a stripper. GEORGE: Gary from the Peace Corps who married his trainer. LUCY: Gary, yes. What is wrong with me? I want to know. You’re sort of a man. All right? I’m good. So tell me. What’s the matter with me? Well, you can be somewhat intimidating. You could loosen up a little, get in touch with your feminine side. Okay, that’s a good suggestion. Perhaps soften your appearance. Not that I don’t love that look, but you could get dolled up occasionally. I’m not going to spend hours fluffing my hair and applying… animal-tested makeup to my face… just so I can turn myself into some male fantasy, degrading Kewpie doll. Unless I, you know, really like the guy or something. You see, maybe that’s the problem. Mmm. You don’t like these guys. You drive them away because you realize they’re wrong for you. They’re not wrong for me. We have all the same political goals and ideals, all of them. Which I guess isn’t very romantic, but what can I say? I’m fine. What can I say? I’m just not a romantic person. Never felt that way about anybody. Nope. No. No, in high school, Rick Beck took me parking. You know, parking? And the whole time I talked about Nelson Mandela. Don’t know why I did that. That’s hard to say. I certainly would have found it extremely erotic. Come back. LUCY: I’m fine. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not good in bed. Maybe you’re not. [LUCY CHUCKLES] I am. Yeah? Yeah. I am really good in bed. You might be lousy. No, believe me, pal.

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