You're the Worst (2014–…): Season 1, Episode 7 - Equally Dead Inside - full transcript

Jimmy opens up emotionally, which completely freaks Gretchen out.

Gretchen, will you please
pass the syrup to your boyfriend?

- Ugh!
- We're eating!

What? You're
boyfriend-girlfriend now, right?

Sounds so high school.

Then what do you call each other?

Your honey? Your boo?

- Your companion?
- What are we, gay

- lovers from the '80s?
- We're not calling

each other anything. We
just made a verbal agreement

not to sleep with other people. For now.

In a week, we could
remember that monogamy is a

social construct free
of biological necessity.

Or we could be invited
to a really fun sex party.


Remember group sex, Jimmy?


Remember group sex?

- Jimmy?
- Actually, I've never...

What?! Not
even a standard threesome?

- Oh, Jimmy.
- You've had a threesome?

I'm an adult
male in my 30s, so, yeah.

Anyway, uh, Lindsay and I wanted
to celebrate y'all making it official,

so I made a dinner reservation
for four at 8 o'clock.

Oh, hey, I almost forgot.
This package came for you.


That was weird.

I guess I should go give him one of
my famous Edgar Quintero pep talks.


Ha-ha! That's your job now.

What? Ew. Why?

Because you're his lady.

Behind every great man
there's a great woman.

Or, you know, someone like you. Go.

I think it's time you got
to know the real Jimmy.

- Do I have to?
- Mm-hmm.

I'm gonna leave you anyway
I'm gonna leave you anyway

gonna leave you anyway.

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You've sold out of my book.

It just goes to show that with

patience and strong word of

mouth, true literature...

You've been remaindered, Jimmy.

Your books are probably being
turned into hamster bedding

- right now.
- What?!

Well, that seems premature.

Well, if we suddenly
get a big rush for it, we can

always send people to the dollar

bin at costco.

Oh, you would
buy your food in bulk.


Is that the lesbian from Roseanne?

Yeah. Unlike you,
she wrote a book

that's selling actual copies.

Oh, of course she did.

Did they give Darlene a book?

Let's give Becky two a book!

I look forward to your married
with children cast poetry slam.

Dana from work
liked my 'gram of the baby

sneaker in the gutter.

And her Internet approval
is meaningful because...?

I like her and I don't
have a lot of female friends.

I think women are intimidated by me

because I have mean cartoon eyebrows.


So, uh...

What's new? Listen, if something is

bothering you and you want to
talk about it, I will listen.

Or if you just want to pretend
that nothing happened, that's

- totally fine, too.
- It was a package from my dad.

A Manchester jersey.

I don't even like sports...
Especially Manchester,

the team that ruined every
Saturday of my entire childhood.

Also, I sent him a copy of
my book, like, months ago.

He didn't say anything about it.

Instead, he sends me
gareth Henderson gear.

Well, great.

I'm glad you got that off your chest.

Look! Lena Dunham's dog got a haircut.

I mean, does he think
that after, what, 30-odd years

on this planet, I'm magically
going to start sharing his

- interests in...
- Uh, still

waiting for our friends.

- How are you?
- No one ever asks me that!

But since you did,

I cheated on my husband with
a 19-year-old, named Aiden.

Wow... Do you feel guilty?

Ooh, good question.
Honestly, I kind of feel like

two different people right now.
There's wife Lindsay who helps

Paul with gravestone rubbings
on his genealogy trips.

And then there's adulteress
Lindsay who just wants to sit on

- everyone's face.
- Sometimes I feel like

there's veteran Edgar and regular Edgar.

So feeling like this is normal?

Maybe. Although,
I do have a traumatic

- brain injury.
- Me, too!

- Huh?
- One time I was at a

rave and I stared at a strobe
light so long I forgot how to whistle.

What'd you do today?

- Nothing.
- Oh, my God!

- Me, too!
- With Gretchen around,

I don't have much to do
for Jimmy anymore.

I feel this is, like, a new chapter
in my friendship with him.

Hey, this is nice.

I can't remember the last time Jimmy
asked me a question about myself.

I've been trying to talk
to Gretchen about Aiden for days.

We should just ignore them
tonight until they ask about us.

Ooh, I love that.

Like an experiment, but without
the boring science part like

milligrams and elements and shit.


They're not showing up, are they?

I don't think so, no.

I wrote a novel and still
there's no response from him.

He's barely literate,

so who knows if he could even read it,
but if he did manage to sound it out,

it'd just be nice to hear
that he was proud of me.

You know?

- Are you listening to me?
- What?

Of course. I just, I listen better

when I have something
to do with my hands.


That bikini top doesn't have straps.

Oh, good call.

My eyes always go straight to the bush.

I know it's, like,
my "job" to be there for him,

but at one point, I thought he
was gonna cry, and I was like,

"this is it. I'm never going to be able to

have sex with him again."
I just don't think I'm equipped

to handle this part of a relationship.

- I will sample the aztec vanilla.
- It's do-it-yourself now.

One sample cup per customer.

So I guess you guys feel pretty...

I know what
you mean about emotions.

Ever since I cheated on Paul,
I've been feeling hella guilty.

You can't reuse the sample cups.

Part of me thinks
I should just tell Paul.

- What do you think?
- It's like you guys

- willfully don't even hear me.
- I could just take

this one to the grave. Like Titanic said,

a woman's heart is an
ocean of secrets. Right?

Hello? Are you even listening to me?

Yes, totally. I just listen
better when I have

- something to do with my mouth.
- So, what do you

- think I should do?
- Honestly, Linds,

I wasn't gonna say anything,
but I can't take it anymore.

First, you get these new
berkin-toting westside friends

with fake teeth and even faker tits.

- And then the minute I get a...
- Boyfriend?

Ugh! As soon as Jimmy and I

become a thing, you go
out and start taking dicks.

Can you imagine how abandoned I feel?

I'm sorry, Gretchen.
Wait, why am I apologizing to you?

You stood me up last night.

- Hey, bitch!
- Hi.

Ready to go back to work?

- Um, who is this?
- This is my work wife, Dana.


- You're work-married?
- Come on, wifey.

There is ice cream cake
in the office kitchen.

Cake? Eat a dick, yogurt.

- Bye, Linds.
- Bye!

Ma'am, could you not do that?

- Can you just buy something?
- I can't believe

they flaked again.

Why are they treating us like this?

Lindsay, I think we're sidekicks.

Ew, I am not a sidekick.

I'm Beyoncé, not Kelly Rowland.

If I'm on a motorcycle,
I'm driving the motorcycle,

not riding in that shitty
little side motorcycle thingie

- for poor people and dogs.
- Think about it.

In your relationship with Gretchen,
are you the Mary Tyler Moore

- or the Rhoda?
- Who are those people?

They sound ugly.

Okay, uh, in
flipping out on-on bravo...

- Ooh!
- ...Are you the Jeff Lewis

or the-the Jenni We Don't
Know Her Last Name?

Oh, my God! I am totally
the Jenni "We Don't Know Her Last Name".

Actually, I do... it's Pulos.
I'm a big fan.

Yes. Okay. Oh... I,
I'm not gonna tell him that.

Okay. Bye.

That was Lindsay. She wants us
to get dinner with them tonight.

Since we flaked last night,

- we should probably go.
- Whatever.

- As long as they have booze.
- Aw.

Cheer up, Jimster.

Or you could just really wallow in it.

We could listen to some...

The Smiths. They're sad and English, too.

Or I could read you a little,
uh, Jude the Obscure.

I hope our
kids don't hang themselves

because we're poor.

I know what will cheer you up!
We can do it backwards while

- you watch foot fetish anime.
- Pass.

Well, I got to
go to happy hour with Dana.

If you think you're gonna kill
yourself, remember there is a

hotline for that or,
you know, just text me.

"When I was
little, I never fantasized about

having a baby of my own,
unless we were playing war.

I might grab someone else's
child and run with them through

the forest and hide them in a bramble.

I wasn't like other girls,
the ones who know from the start

that they will be mothers,
daydreaming about wedding days

and lacy veils. They knew
daddy would walk them

down the aisle, give them
away. For me, it was not so,

an observer... not a participant."

Oh, girl, he is super hot.


Sometimes I think he looks like
he's straight out of a Swedish

- vampire movie.
- No, he's a piece of sex.

No surprise, though... 'cause

- you're gorgeous.
- Aw, thanks.

So, tell me about the
boyfriend... what's his deal?

We don't really use
that term, but, uh, he's a writer,

he's British... He's
usually very funny, but

he's been super depressed lately.

Every dude I've dated
cannot handle being sad for,

like, a second. Can you
imagine not being able

to fully experience your emotions?

No. Well, we
have a dinner later...

I have to see if I can get him to rally.

I should head out,
too... I'll give you a ride.



Thank you.

I came here tonight to heckle you.

And it would have been scathing.
But I decided against it based on

on the strength of your work. And
I wanted to share that compliment.

And also have you sign this, please?

What were your heckles?

Oh, uh...

All right. (Chuckles) "Look!
There's the second worst

thing about the '80s...
after Reagan's trickle-down

economics, which immediately
caused a 10.8% rise in

unemployment and an explosion
in income inequality."

Just stuff like that.

Who do you want this made out to?

Oh, um...

"To Ronny overly, a father whose
sole connection to his son is

that he never connected
with his father..."

"Yo, Ron. So glad
I have a big fan in the UK.

Love, Sandra."

Thank you. I'm
actually an author myself.

Congratulations, you're dying.
Perhaps you've heard of it?

- They carry it here?
- Bookstore manager?

Sandra Bernhard here is
interested in purchasing my book.

I'm sorry.

As Jimmy knows, he's been remaindered.

That's such a waste of money.

Thank you! It's a travesty.

You know what
they should have done?

- Yeah?
- They should've taken

all the books they printed and
thrown them directly into a hobo

trash can fire. It would have
saved a lot on shipping costs.

You're an asshole...

- Man-dra Butt... Buttfart.
- Wow. Is that one of

your previously written heckles,
or was that just off the cuff?

Tooth gap! Some-something
about your tooth gap?

Enough, Jimmy.

- Philippe!
- What the...?!

Don't you touch me, Philippe! I'm going.

I am so sorry.

- Yeah, it's really pretty, huh?
- Mm. I love that.

I'm in it for the money, just...

Is that Nancy from Roseanne?

Don't want to talk about it.

Jimmy, this is Dana

- from work.
- Hi.

I've heard... so much about
you. You weren't lying.

He is like a sexy Swedish vampire.

Sorry, ladies.
I'm-I'm... I'm going to bed.

This sucks. I need
to snap him out of it somehow.

Just bang the
shit out of him, dummy.

I tried!

I'm sorry, Dana. This
is not how you should be

spending your night.
You are way too fun and

beautiful and spontaneous.
You should just go.

- Do you want me to stay?
- Well, maybe we

could go down there and...
Oh, my God, I just had the

- craziest idea.
- What?

You can just ask me to have a threesome.

What?! What?

That is bananas. What are
you even talking about?

Can you imagine? Are you serious?

- Sure.
- Okay.

- Okay.
- Okay!

Oh, this is awesome.

This is guaranteed to cheer him up.

He has never had a threesome before.

Did he never go to middle school?


- Okay.
- Oh.

Jimmy. How you doing, buddy?

We just wanted to make sure
that you are doing okay.

- I'm fine, yeah.
- Well, we just wanted to

make sure that you were extra fine.

- Uh...
- Is that... ?

- You came already?!
- Ugh.

- Uh...
- I guess this show got

- a little bit too sexy for you.
- What?

It's his first time. Maybe
he got a little overexcited.

No, I didn't.

In fact, the joke's on you.

This is from a couple of minutes

ago before you guys even came down.

- Oh, my God.
- Hold on.

So, you masturbated to
completion in the literally one

minute from the time you
left upstairs to this moment?

I started at the top of the stairs.

What? I couldn't help it.
You're both so beautiful,

and I started thinking about how
you guys must have hugged earlier

tonight, and when you did, did
your... did your boobies get

- all, like, "squozen" together?
- And then you just laid

- there in it?
- Shut up... Dana!

I was enjoying the afterglow!
I didn't think you'd actually

come down here, you giant weirdo.

You masturbated while
walking down the stairs carrying

a giant Sandra Bernhard
standee, and I'm the weirdo?!

- What?
- Yeah, I got to go.

- Oh, no. Wait!
- No. Wait!

Well, now I get why you've
never had a threesome.

Dumb ass.


I'm sure they'll
be here any minute.

- What's the matter?
- I can't believe

I finally made a new friend, and
I tried to bang her the first time

we hung out. I suck at girls, Jimmy.

All the way back to the fourth grade
when everyone was mean to me

because I was the
first person to grow boobs.

Whatever, Jessica Olsen.
You're still flat as shit.

I guess I'm still that sad
little ten-year-old girl

sometimes, wishing someone would
sit next to me on the side...

Oh, my God, will you stop?!

- What?
- No offense, but you're

kind of making my skin crawl.

Wow. Sorry.

I'm not comfortable
with... feelings.

I listened to you
blathering on about "ooh, me da."

That's Irish, dumb-dumb.

And you didn't listen.
You played photo hunt.

And quite poorly, for the record.

I don't know why I started
unloading on you like that.

I don't do... feelings.

What the hell is wrong with us?


We should celebrate. We
found someone who is equally

- dead inside.
- Let's make a pact

never to feel anything
around each other ever again.

- Deal?
- Deal.

I can't believe
you've been my boyfriend for,

like, three days, and we already
had to bring in a third party.

- What?
- You just said "boyfriend."

Oh, whatever.

- It's... it's economical, okay?
- Sure.

- God, you have issues.
- You are the one who

cried over a soccer jersey.

Ooh. Actually...
that is kind of hot.

- You look like a soccer hooligan.
- Yeah?

I always had a
thing for jocks, you know?

Mmm... Hey, uh,
we can pop inside and

do it quick before we
head to the diner, right?

Oh, yeah.
Oh, 15 minutes, tops.

Oh... uh...

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