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“The Real L Word” recap: Episode 203

Previously: Kelsey was still pestering Romi for sex, but the only wet on her whistle was from the vodka at Haute. Sajdah’s straight friend Marissa got a whiff of lesbian life when she learned how much Sajdah loves the scent of Chanel after only two dates. Cori and Kacy resigned themselves to using a sperm bank, after all their guy friends stopped returning their calls and started covering their balls with both hands.

Thanks to snitches Alyssa and Rachel, Whitney found out that Sara had been texting Hana behind her back. Whitney blew a fuse because secrets and empty promises are her M.O. Nobody likes a copycat. And Claire continues to hang onto Francine and Vivian with a clear conscience because, “both of you know what I’m doing,” as if that makes it all OK.

Oh Claire. Haven’t you heard to old adage? Two wongs don’t make a white.

This week, Corcy has their credit card out, earning extra miles with their $2000 online sperm purchase. It could be cheaper, but they’re paying a premium for a guy who’s agreed in advance he may be contacted when the kid reaches 18. Cori says they’ve never spent two grand on anything, not even themselves. Well, that’s just ridiculous. Go on a blowout vacation, girls! It’s the last treat you’ll be able to give yourselves. Ever.

The morning after Francine and Claire’s emotional argument, Claire acts as if nothing happened and blithely asks Francine for advice on her outfit. When Francine doesn’t come running, Claire whines she’s not helping her. She appears in the kitchen, demanding to know about her pants. Francine wants to know some things too: Are you going to help clean? (No.) And when are you leaving?

Claire says she hopes to have her own place and be out by Monday. Francine’s face lights up shinier than her kitchen countertops. Just before venturing out to reinvent the world wide interweb, Claire moves in for a hug. She barely notices that Francine has turned sideways, and is giving her a cold pat on the back before shoving her out of the door. Have fun storming the castle.

Elsewhere, Sajdah and Marissa are getting pedicures. If Marissa thought this was the non-gay part of her visit, she was seriously mistaken; Sajdah spends the entire time talking about Chanel. Unable to run because someone is digging sand out from under her toenails, Marissa listens with growing consternation as Sajdah reads one of Chanel’s latest texts:

I just want you to always be excited about us and about me and support me and protect me in my times of need. And I know that I’ll do the same.

Marissa’s mouth is agape. These are not normal convos after four days of dating. Those are wedding vows. She says, “Support me? Protect me? Broad, I don’t even know your favorite color.” Oh Marissa, never, ever leave.

Sajdah looks a tad crestfallen but is totally undeterred. She can’t hear you right now, Marissa. Some excellent booty is calling her name. Marissa kids Sajdah to not get married, but Sajdah reminds her they can’t, even if they wanted to because “it’s fake anyway.” All you couples who had commitment ceremonies are free to ignore Sajdah. She’s young, she’s new, she’s wearing a sideways baseball cap.

Meanwhile, Whitney has had enough of Sara’s alleged douchery and hightails it up to San Francisco for some drama-free fun. Because there’s no drama in San Francisco. Nope. None.

She immediately finds yet another ex, Jaq, who may have once misunderstood their connection and changed her Facebook status to “In a relationship.” It mysteriously disappeared around the same time Whitney did. They don’t talk about it and neither should you.

But that was then, and this is now, and Whitney is happy to see Jaq, maybe because she looks like every girl Whitney ever dated. Or maybe Whitney’s just in a great mood since finding that snazzy dress belt at Contempo Casual to wear on her head.

Back in LA, Kelsey is making dinner for Romi again. When the breadwinner comes home to their tiny studio, she has a passive-aggressive gift for Kelsey; a date book. So cute! And useful! Kelsey flips through the book’s pages — all as blank as her face — and drones, “I love it,” with all the enthusiasm of a depressed robot.

Now Kelsey won’t forget important dates like the weekly meetings of Cashiers Local 104, the Al-Anon schedule, and can easily note all the days she hasn’t gotten laid.

Here’s a new development in the house: Romi has stopped drinking. After her last blackout, wherein she made out with Rachel for no reason whatsoever, Romi finally answered the wake-up call, and sips water with dinner. Meanwhile, Kelsey, who denies having a drinking problem, is on her third ginormous glass of wine as she watches her girl take a bath in four inches of water. Hello boobies. 

Romi and Kelsey have had a couple of calm, nice weeks. Romi attributes them to not being fall-down wasted. Kelsey offers, “You know what I honestly think it is? The sunshine.”

Yeah, that’s it. It’s the sun. I also heard Mercury is in retrograde. And your head is in Uranus.

Back in San Francisco, Whitney is hosting the Tuesday night girl party at a Castro bar called Trigger. She gets fanned a few times and takes some pictures with girls who mistake her for a real celebrity. Oh, San Francisco. I thought you were better than that.

Whitney: The thing I don’t understand is that girls always want to smell my hair. They’ll come up and, like, sneak a sniff. And it’s like, I mean, you can, but I don’t know if I should hand it to them or what. But one thing I’ve always made sure of is this s–t always smells on point.

What do Whitney’s dreads smell like? Pantene and regret.

One person who knows damn well what Whitney smells like, from all angles, is Jaq, who’s enjoying their drama-free night by following Whitney back to her hotel room. When morning comes, Jaq’s out the door with a friendly ass slap and a “See ya later,” despite Whitney’s pleas for her to get back in bed. Whitney only wants what she can’t have.

Back in La La Land, Sara is too busy being amazeballs to care wtf Whitney is doing. Today, Sara has donned shiny, gold short-shorts and black tights, and is writhing in a friend’s music video, because, as she points out with a straight face, “I’m a dancer.” If gyrating in a bustier for dollar bills while standing on top of a speaker constitutes “dancing” I seriously don’t get why people bother auditioning for the Joffrey.

After at least an hour of swaying and standing, Sara takes a much deserved break by drinking wine straight from the bottle and tonguing someone named Erica, whom she’s just met that morning.

Alvin Ailey called. He said to stay classy.

Back at Sajdah’s house, Marissa’s eyes are rolling back into her head because Sajdah is online, looking for an apartment for her and Chanel. Dat’s right.

Sajdah can ignore Marissa’s common sense all she wants, but she can not escape her mama, who calls to lodge a complaint about her Facebook profile. Apparently, Sajdah has been posting all kinds of crushy things about Chanel on her wall, and changed her relationship status to “Fake Married.”

Mrs. Sajdah tells her daughter she does not like this public gay stuff. No, not at all. Sajdah says it was all good when her gayness was in theory, but now that she’s met the obvious Love of Her Life, it’s not cool with her mother. She must be a formidable woman, because Marissa is hiding in the bathroom, and it’s only a phone call.

Claire is driving back from a job interview and pulls into a rest stop to call Vivian. Claire says she thinks the meeting went well, if only because the interviewer was a cool, gay Asian. Again? Seriously? How does she do that?

The call gets bumpy when Claire tells Vivian she doesn’t have to return her every call because she “can’t be talking all the time.” And yet, she does. In fact, all Claire does is talk. If she’s not talking about why she left Vivian in New York, she talking about her expired feelings for Francine. And if she’s not talking about Vivian or Francine, she’s talking about the internets. The only thing more coma-inducing than listening to Claire talk is watching Claire talk.

Claire tells Vivian “I love you,” but Vivian doesn’t say it back. She doesn’t say anything. Why? Because she’s fallen asleep.

While Sajdah drops Marissa off at LAX and says good-bye to the only voice of reason she knows, Alyssa, Rachel and others are landing at SFO, to join in on Whitney’s carefree fun. That’s all about to change, because Rachel reports she plans on staying in Whitney’s hotel room, even though she didn’t ask. In fact, she didn’t tell Whitney she was coming at all. Great! What could possibly go wrong?

The minute Whitney sees Rachel and realizes she wants to stay in her room, she goes sullen and begins to quietly seethe. Alyssa asks teasingly why so sad, but this time, they’ve gone too far. For all her shenanigans, I have to give this one to Whitney. You do not blow into town unannounced, with a carry-on bag and a delusion. That is how kids end up homeless.

Just then, Jaq shows up. She and Rachel hug warily; Rachel is surprised to see her, even though she lives there and is Whitney’s ex. Hello? Do the math, Bjork.

Someday, this “look” is going to seem as ridiculous as wide collars and huge afros. Trust me.

Over at Cori and Kacy’s, they’ve invited a few close friends over to announce their sperm purchase, expecting the room to be as super excited as they are. Everyone offers hearty congrats and smiles, but it all has a tinge of insincerity, as these moments always do. Baby mamas are usually too self-involved right about now to realize their no-baby-wanting friends are going to drift away. It was nice knowing you and enjoy the PTA.

Kacy’s sister Nikki arrives and Kacy is glad to see her. She says they’re close because they’re only “22 months apart” as if two years’ difference is something worth expressing in months. Yeah, they’re practically Irish twins. And wasn’t Kacy freaking out over one ovulation like it was the last chopper out of Saigon? Relax! Time is like women. There’s plenty of it when you stop worrying about how much is left.

The topic turns to sperm, of course. Nikki, who’s straight, says she knows just what to do with it: You swallow it. Cori informs her that’s hundreds of dollars down her throat. Dang. With Nikki and a spit cup, Corcy could have gone to Europe, instead. Just saying.

When Kacy and Cori wonder that will happen when their kid can legally contact its donor dad, Cori has trouble imagining it. They agree that maybe they’ll just thank him with an arrangement of fruit and hope for the best. Good plan.

Hey girls. Ever heard of The Kids Are All Right? Rent it.

Across town, Sajdah takes Chanel to the most unromantic sushi restaurant I’ve ever seen for their first “real” date. She’s decided to ask Chanel to be her girlfriend the “old school” way, whatever that means. While sitting alone on metal patio furniture, surrounded by sagging straw window blinds, Sajdah passes Chanel this folded note.

Chanel giggles and gets another surprise when Sajdah gives her a small heart necklace. By “old school,” Sajdah means middle school. Her utter lack of game is almost endearing, but she has got to work on her restaurant picks.

While Whitney sulks alone in her hotel room to avoid Rachel, and Corcy imagines a world with no Father’s Day, ever, and Sajdah and Chanel carve a heart around their names into a tree, Romi is the only one acting and thinking like an adult. Did you feel that? Hell just froze over.

She and Kelsey are at yet another bar, but this time, Romi is nursing a club soda and growing bored. There is nothing more tedious than watching drunk people when you’re stone cold sober. Kelsey is getting sloppy, so they jump in cab and head home. In the cab:

Romi: I’m just in a really weird funk, and then, you getting drunk, and swaying in there and spilling…

Kelsey: Beh, but. That’s…

Romi: I know. That’s you. I’m just saying you’re drunk.

Kelsey: I can do. I can drink a lot.

Romi: You drank a lot tonight. The vodka there, the vodka on the way. Champagne …

Kelsey: Can we have sex?

Well, at least they’re on the same page.

Romi almost scoffs. She says no because Kelsey is s–t faced, again. Since when does that matter? Since she got sober, that’s when. Now it feels wrong and no fun. Kelsey starts to cry, right there in the cab, and sobs “We’re not having sex and I hate it! I hate it!

For the love of god, will someone please f–k Kelsey? It’s like hearing lambs screaming.

When they get home, Kelsey stands by the bed with her arms at her sides and her pants half off, staring at Romi like a zombie in need of a belt. She slurs, “It’s all I have with you, hon” with all the conviction of a phone book recital. Those vacant eyes. That mumbling voice. The catatonic face. She’s giant Zoloft, wearing a tie. Seduction, thy name is Kelsey.

Romi feels so bad, she finally gives in, tampon and all, (Yes! Did you see it? Dear god, my eyes can’t take much more of this show!) and gives Kelsey everything she’s got, and lets her do whatever she wants.

Pity scissoring. Pissoring, if you will.

The next morning, Romi is happy she gave in. She had forgotten how good sex could be. Kelsey is happy, too. I think. Who can tell?

Whitney is back in LA, but lost. She walks the street until she finds herself at Sara’s, that big ol’ bag of heroin she can’t resist.

They talk about their processes, processing and what processing their processes might look like, if they decide to process together. It’s all very “I wish I knew how to quit you.”

No really. I wish I knew. Help me.

Next week: Whitney meets Cori and Kacy and finds them adorkable. Sajdah and Chanel go to a house party and trash the place, Claire realizes if she wants to work with The Real L Word girls, she might have to, gulp, hang out with them. Rachel finds a great way to get off the show: by OD’ing.

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