Someone Like You... Page #4

Now, if she wants to put me up

on a white horse,

that's her choice.

We're all

grownups here, Jane.

I lay awake that

night wondering which was worse:

Guys like Ray who blinded you

with charms and promises,

or the Eddies of the world

who went right for your pants.

Oh. Excuse me.

And in the end,

it didn't matter.

The truth was, they were all

cast from the same mold.

- But the question remained.

-

Why?

And then

one day by the river,

I found my answer.

Holy sh*t!

I told them dumb asses

it'd never work.

You can't fool a bull, mister.

No, sir.

He knows where he's been,

and he ain't goin' back.

Hell, I got...

I got 93 cows.

Only one of 'em got nads.

Why? 'Cause that one son of a b*tch

alone can knock up an entire herd.

But once he's done,

well, the party's over.

I gotta go over to Ed

Hickey's place down the road...

and trade him for a new one...

'cause there ain't

a chance in hell...

he's ever gonna touch

any of them cows again, no, sir.

- I figured it out. I'm the old cow.

- I don't get it.

Remember a couple weeks ago when we were

laughing at that graffiti on the subway?

- " Baby, I love the toilet you sit on"?

- No.

"I'm tired of banging

the same woman every night. "

We thought there might

actually be something to that,

- like it could be a window into their dark...

- Schizophrenic behavior.

Well, it is.

The new cow theory...

and "I'm tired of banging

the same woman every night,"

same thing.

This is why

men can't commit.

Sooner or later,

we all become old cows.

We're identified

as already serviced,

so they wanna move on

and find less familiar females.

- The whole novelty thing, you mean.

- Neophilia, to be precise.

- What do you think?

- What do I think? I think...

it's always about you,

that's what I think.

You fall for some guy, and it's like

men are worthy of heroic worship.

You get dumped and suddenly they're

sh*t-sucking, commitment-phobic a**holes.

I'm sorry, Jane. The entire

universe does not revolve around...

your romantic status.

You're in love.

I'm almost in love.

Oh, honey,

why didn't you tell me?

You're having a spectacular

mope. I didn't wanna ruin it.

- Oh, my God!

- We met at a work party a couple of weeks ago and...

Just incredible.

I mean, he's so...

And I'm so...

Although I appreciated

Liz's intoxication...

over her seeming good fortune,

I refused to be derailed.

Now armed with

my new cow theory,

I became voracious

for information.

What are you doing?

Nothin'.

- Hey! Eddie!

- Whoa! What's this?

"Amygdala,

AKA erotic nose brain.

- Give it back!

- "An organ located in the nasal cavity,

"which connects smells

to memories.

"Banana slugs,

actually hermaphrodites...

While mating, the males

chew each other's penises off. "

I worry about you, Jane.

I really do.

Despite my conviction,

there was

the occasional setback.

I want my erotic

nose brain removed.

I beg your pardon?

My amygdala, the organ

deep inside the nasal cavity,

which processes scent,

which then connects to memory.

I'd like it extracted.

But why would you want to

voluntarily make yourself anosmatic?

Well, let me see

if I can explain this.

Um, I had this

boyfriend, okay?

And he smelled really,

really good, like soap...

and fresh laundry

and vanilla.

And every time I smell

any of those smells,

I'm reminded of my boyfriend

and how happy we were...

before he dumped me

for no good reason.

And I get very sad,

and then I get angry.

And then before I know it, I am in the

throes of an all-out emotional breakdown.

And so I was

just thinking, Dr. Glen,

if I can just short-circuit

my nose somehow,

I might actually have a chance of

living a semi-normal life someday.

Hey, wait!

Couldn't sleep?

- No.

- Me neither.

Does that happen to you a lot?

Yeah.

Me too.

Mmm.

- Just like eating worms.

- Yeah.

Talent. Mmm.

These are good.

Here.

Head back.

- Yeah?

- Good.

Good.

Cold dumplings.

My favorite.

Way to go, Tomcat.

Two points.

Tomcat?

Cheerleader.

A what?

I was a cheerleader.

- You were a cheerleader?

- Yes, I was.

Paul G. Blazer Memorial High. Pride and

joy of Cincinnati, Ohio, state champs, 1989.

- Go, Cats.

- Go, Cats.

Well, show me.

- No. No!

- Come on! Why not?

I just haven't done it

in ten years, Eddie. Come on.

- You come on. Show me.

- You have to do something that merits a cheer.

Like, uh, like, like...

Like three dumplings,

left-handed, in a row.

- You can't do that.

- Deal?

Deal.

One, two, three.

Like that?

Come on. Come on.

Come on.

- You promise not to laugh?

- No. Come on.

- What are those?

- Pom-poms.

Okay.

I hate you.

It's okay.

Ready? Okay!

The Tomcats are here...

to show...

Whoa.

Ready? Okay!

The Tomcats are here...

to show who's top.

You think can beat us...

but we can't be stopped!

Go, Tomcats!

- Whoo! First and ten and...

- Eddie?

Oh. Oh, sh... Um...

Oh, hey, hey.

- Um...

- Hi. I'm, uh, Jane.

Roommate.

- Isabel.

- Isabel, Jane.

- You can clean up. It's your turn.

- Okay. Okay.

Good night.

We're a little noisy.

Hi, George. It's Jane.

God, I'm such an idiot.

I mean, I sensed things were a little

off when he got back from L.A.,

but I just thought that he was

just jet-lagged or something.

Then he tells me the France thing

isn't such a good idea...

because he's gonna have

to work the whole time anyway,

so still, I figure,

"Okay, that's no big deal. "

So Friday he gets on a plane,

he goes over there alone.

Right? Wrong.

An hour ago, I call his

hotel room to say good night.

Guess who answered the phone

Penelope Pope.

- Who's Penelope Pope?

- I have no idea,

but that's what she said when I said,

"Who the f*** is this?"

- Oh, God. I don't get it!

- Liz, I'm sorry.

I mean, why feed me all that romantic

crap if he's just gonna cheat on me?

- Two words:
Copulatory imperative.

- Excuse me?

It's the biological urge

to spread their seed.

The truth is, less than five percent

of all male animals are monogamous.

The other 95% are...

Plucking Penelope Pope?

Hi, Jane.

I, uh, stopped by H&H

on the way in,

picked up

a sesame seed bagel...

lightly toasted,

just like you liked.

Okay.

Ray has a cold. I'm hoping

it will turn into pneumonia...

and that weeks of bed rest will

cause abdominal muscles to atrophy.

Ben wants to add a column

to the magazine for women.

It finally hit him that

The idea is for it

to be about men.

You know, how they're

so paranoid...

- about going bald and that kind of thing.

- So...

Forget baldness.

The real issue is their behavior.

You know, that stuff like

that copulatory impulse...

Imperative. Hey, Bobby, can

I get some more hot water?

The point is, I think

you should write it.

Are you crazy?

- Well, why not?

I'm not a writer. B: I'm not a psychologist.

We don't need

a psychologist.

We need someone who's been

in the trenches, baby.

Liz, I don't know

what I'm talking about.

All I have are a bunch of notebooks

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