I’ll be honest—Season 5 is giving me an existential crisis. Why am I here? What is my purpose? Who would even notice if I left? If the Rizzoli & Isles writers insist on making The Gay so obvious, they’re going to put all of us subtext writers out of business. I mean, it’s enough to make a gal want to build a panic room, practice her bug out and lock herself away from the entire world.
But as long as I still have a job, we shall proceed as if everything is normal. So Jane and Maura are on what counts as a date for them these days–dinner at The Dirty Robber. Maura is wondering whether the chard is locally sourced which is just the most Maura question to ever Maura. A man watching them from the bar sends over a glass of wine to Jane because God forbid two women be able to have a meal together without men thinking they need to intrude into their space and make their lives complete.
Jane is about to drink it, because free hooch is free hooch. Also, she’s the kind of woman that doesn’t feel like she owes every idiot who tries to hit on her anything. So drink that wine and ignore his ass. If she wasn’t also pregnant. Maura, however, is having none of it. Mostly because no one hits on her woman in front of her, but also the baby thing.
Jane teases her, saying French women don’t obsess over accepting flirtatious gifts from people they have no intention of giving the time of day, or about having a glass of wine occasionally when pregnant. Maura retorts that French women don’t shave their underarms. Jane scowls and with that the discussion about the enlightenment of French women is closed. Granted, this is a somewhat controversial stance for gay ladies to take, given so many of our community’s proclivity to, um, go au naturel.
Maura takes charge of the situation and decides to let the hapless wine-sender down the easiest way possible–with the truth. We know it’s the truth because she doesn’t break out into hives. And I quote:
See? When I resort to transcribing large swaths of dialogue verbatim you can see why I’m worried about job security. Shut it all down, folks. That’s the end of the show. Nothing more to see here. Everyone go home.
Of course, the dude at the bar takes Maura’s outing of Jane’s lesbianism as an invitation to a hot threeway because, you know, ugh–dudes. Yes, yes, yes–Not All Men. But the ones who send ladies unsolicited glasses of wine in expectation of swooning replies and/or immediate sex and only get turned off when they learn the two women are having a baby together in a loving committed relationship? Yes, those men. Exactly those men.
Well, at least Maura adding in the part about Jane’s pregnancy finally worked and they can finally focus on their date together again. But Maura being Maura, she goes back to fretting about Little Rizzoli-Isles’ future and suggests Jane start a college fund. Jane pretends to have dozed off and reminds her it’s a date. Maura beams. Man, are they sure Rizzles fans didn’t sneak into the writer’s room and swap out this week’s scripts?
But the phone rings and our gals “Rizzoli” and “Dr. Isles” their way into the case of the week instead. But not before they leave, Jane slyly asks Maura if that stuff about French women is really true. Again, verbatim:
You see, it’s not that she has never been with a woman–it is just that she has never been with a French woman. So, Maura’s bisexuality is basically canon now, yes? I’m so out of a job.
Jane’s face is all, “Whoa, did Maura just come out to fandom? Shit, my Tumblr dash is going to be craaaazy.”
Whew, and all that was before the opening credits. I think I need a cigarette. But not really because cigarettes are terrible and tobacco companies are evil. Though possibly not as evil as the companies killing us without our consent. Monsanto. Rio Tinto. Big Pharma. BP. Halliburton. Preach, Black Cindy. Some dark shit is going down.