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“Exes & Ohs” recap 205: “Everything Changes”

Previously: Elizabeth changed her mind about wet t-shirt contests once she imagined Sam in clingy, sheer cotton. Sheila’s sole parenting tip to Kris and Chris was to make time for sex. And Jen broke up with Gillian after she realized Bridge Girls lead to dead-ends.

Single yet again, Jen is throwing herself into her work. Since she can’t find a girlfriend, herself, she’ll study those who do with her never-ending documentary, “The Search for Love.”

If production on this film goes as long as her actual search for love, it won’t be seen until Outfest 2024.

Tonight, that Jane of All Trades, Devin, is hooking Jen up with a wireless router in her apartment. The girls are also there, setting out food and drinking beer, because only lesbians can turn an IT house call into a party.

Jen’s excited about her new wireless capabilities because it means she can work in bed. Yup. This is what she’s been reduced to. Just name that router “crazycatlady21” and be done with it.

Sam says suggestively, “Beds are made for one kind of laptop, and it ain’t a computer.” Elizabeth purrs knowingly — she just loves being with a “bad girl” — and they both give Jen their best saucy-girl look.

Rub it in, why doncha?

Jen basks in the warmth and easy camaraderie of her chosen family and gushes, “It’s so great just hanging out with you guys.” The only constant in Jen’s life are her friends, who love her to pieces, despite her sometimes-unrealistic optimism, neurotic over-thinking, and horrible taste in sweaters.

There’s a knock on the door. Chris opens it to find Gillian holding a cheese plate. Cheese is delicious, but doesn’t excuse the fact that Gillian’s still married and not dating Jen anymore. Chris slams the door in her face.

Chris beckons Devin, then Sam, over. Guess who’s coming to dinner?

Jen tells the girls to let Gillian in — she invited her. While they stare back at her in disbelief, Jen explains the “Shining Example of Lesbians” Rule.

Jen: Lots of people think lesbians are higher beings because of our unique ability to be best friends with our exes, even if we just broke up. And that’s such a crock of sh-t.

I have a theory about exes who become friends. (I have a theory about almost everything.) When straight people break up, they can go their whole lives and never see each other again for two reasons. Without that romantic connection, men and women have nothing in common. Also, their social and entertainment choices are vast; there’s little chance of running into each other again and again.

We, on the other hand, share many interests and mutual friends, so it’s easier for two women to downshift into friendship. And we have precious few lesbian places. You cannot swing a cat in a women’s bar without hitting an ex. Being friends is the social grease that keeps us from becoming hermits. Or killing each other.

Sam thinks Jen is nuts for trying to be friends with Gillian so soon and does what any best friend would do: She tells her she’s wrong. But Jen is convinced it’s for the best. Old Jen used to run from her feelings. New, improved Jen is going to deal with them and stop pretending everything’s fine. In fact, she thinks Sam should do the same.

Sam: Whoa. What’s that supposed to mean?

Jen: Nothing. Just, I’ve noticed that you keep joking with Elizabeth about the whole “bad girl” thing.

Sam: That doesn’t bug me. It’s all in fun.

Jen: You only joke like that when you are bugged.

Look at her face. No one knows you better than your ex slash best friend. Damn them.

Gillian tells the girls she’s dating someone new. Awkward. Jen soldiers on, smiling and suggesting she might even want to interview them. Oh, Jen. Stop talking.

After the party, Kris and Chris are reading in bed, wondering if they know the first thing about being moms. Gillian is still at Jen’s, helping her tidy up and patting both their backs for being able to go from lovers to friends without missing a beat. And Sam is home with Elizabeth, testing Jen’s theory that Elizabeth’s only interested in her former bad girl lifestyle.

Just to see where it might lead, Sam suggests that her old ways are a hot button issue. Sure enough, Elizabeth makes a double entendre about hot buttons and pulls Sam to her. Maybe Elizabeth is only interesting in having a hot trophy girlfriend, but in this moment, can you blame her?

The next day, Kris and Chris are at the library looking for books on lesbian parenting. There are rows and rows of baby books for straight parents, and one book for gay dads, but nothing for the ladies. What gives? Chris calls out to a passing librarian, “Oh, excuse me. Do you have any parenting books for us dykes?” Gah, I love her!

Elizabeth pops the question to Sam: Will you U-Haul me? She’s asked her to move in. Sam promptly drops the salad dressing she’s holding and stands with her mouth agape. New, grown-up Sam’s mind races. Old, playa Sam wouldn’t have made it this far to begin with. What to do? Sam tells Elizabeth she needs time to think. Smart girl.

Over at the Beever, Jen runs into Gillian with her new date; bubbly, chatty Mallory. As Mallory brags how high-larious Gillian is, and regales a tres amusing story she told her, Jen quickly realizes it’s the same one she told the other night! Gillian is stealing Jen’s material to impress other women. As a writer, I can tell you that is a hanging offense.

Mallory also says she’s heard all about Jen documentary, and offers to let Jen interview them as a newly, happily dating couple. Jen manages to eek a small, fakey smile as Gillian pretends none of this is happening. Unsolicited interviews are the best! Not.

Later that night, Jen and Sam get together to unload their problems on each other. Jen reports she’s making herself be friends with Gillian because she needs to deal with her reality. Or something. I don’t know why she wants to be friends, frankly.

Sam admits she’s a bit freaked over the idea of cohabitating with Elizabeth. What if it doesn’t work out? What if she regrets it? Jen tells Sam to take a leap of faith. After all, she’s never regretted living with Sam, even when she was moving out. Yah, and because it’s been 10 years or more. So, kids, if you’re bawling uncontrollably as you separate your CD’s from hers, hold onto this: Someday, you’ll look back and only laugh at what a bad cook she was.

In the interest of facing her demons, Jen is interviewing Gillian and her aggressive date, Mallory. Jen notices a trace of paint on Mallory’s hand. Seems body-painting sex is just another one of Gillian’s seduction tricks. For an artist, she sure is lacking originality. Too bad Mallory hasn’t caught on yet.

Mallory yaks at Jen, “It’s chemical, ya know? I mean, I would usually never sleep with someone on the first date.”

Oh dear. Why torture yourself when other can do it for you? Jen’s face curdles. She yells, “Cut!”

That night, Sam tells Elizabeth she’s made a decision. Yes, she will move in with her. Elizabeth couldn’t be happier, mainly because Sam purrs all breathy-like that she brought a housewarming present.

Where are they registered? I need to get me one two of those.

Due to the lack of lesbian parenting books at their library, Kris has convinced Chris they need a support group to learn from other gay parents. Not there more than five minutes, they learn they’ll have to forego sleep, deal with screaming toddlers, sullen teenagers and go broke for the privilege. It’s a wonder anyone would want a kid at all.

To take their minds off their worries, the mommies-to-be join the others in helping Sam pack up her house. As they box her 253 scented candles, they start a game that you could call, “Whose Childhood Was More Effed Up?”

Jen dares someone to beat her mother dying when she was 10. Devin says she doesn’t even know her real mom because she’s adopted. Kris says her mother grew weed on their maple syrup farm, as if that’s a bad thing. All Sam can say is that she wasn’t always hot.

After winning “Whose Childhood Was More Effed Up?” Jen goes home to screen annoying footage of Mallory. Just then, Gillian shows up at her doorstep, offering a bouquet of apologetic flowers and an explanation. Mallory is not insensitive. Mallory doesn’t know she and Jen dated. And in other news, Gillian reminds Jen she wasn’t the one who wanted to stop dating.

Jen is unmoved. She saw the paint and knows what it means. She didn’t really want to interview them. She’s only trying to do the friend thing because she’s “evolving,” and nice, and… oh screw it.

Jen Butler. Sticking to her guns since… well, never.

Sam has moved her things into Elizabeth’s house. As she unpacks, Sam shows Elizabeth some of the stuff she’s acquired over the years. More than your looks, your job, or your hometown, it’s your stuff that says the most about you. I have a glass head, three gargoyles and six bottles of vodka in my freezer. That should tell you something.

Sam tenderly holds a small figurine from France and tells Elizabeth a story about an old farmer she met while touring the countryside. All Elizabeth wants to know is what Sam did with his hot granddaughter. Sam tries to get her story back on track and describes the pretty fields there, but now Elizabeth has farmer’s daughter on the brain.

Back off, sailor.

Sam is in no mood. She accuses Elizabeth of not wanting to know her; she just wants to have her. Elizabeth stares at Sam with classic “what’s your point?” face and gives Sam a string of therapist lines about role playing being normal, and moving is stressful, and just cause she loves to hear her sexy stories, it doesn’t mean anything.

Sam throws one back at her: Everything means something. Sam decides she needs to go home.

Back at Jen’s place, her momentary slip is now a sickening regret. Hey, what’s a break-up without some backpedalling? Jen offers Gillian some olives to go, (good lord, Jen needs a wife,) but Gillian can’t get out of there fast enough.

And that’s how you know it’s really over. They don’t want your olives anymore.

Unlike Chris and Kris, who’ve decided they don’t need anyone except each other, Sam and Jen are back where they started, single, lost and up beaver creek without a paddle.

Sam: I guess I just feel like I’m competing with myself. Or, like, the “me” I used to be. Either Elizabeth did not mean that I didn’t need to change, or she didn’t think that I could. Because now that I’ve done it, I don’t do it for her.

Jen: You guys will figure it out, Sam.

Sam: Meh. Oh, but hey! I’m proud of you! You faced up to the stuff that you normally avoid. [laughs]

Jen: Yeah, and it beat the hell outta me.

Sam: But you took it like a man.

Starting over makes Jen feel tired just thinking about it. Jen and Sam agree they’re both a mess. But at least they have each other. Their eyes lock. Their faces draw closer. Closer, still. And…

Cut to black. Whoa.

Next week: Jen avoids thinking about Sam by making out with a student at a frat party. Sam gets some clarity and makes a final decision about Elizabeth. Kris proposes to Chris to make an honest woman out of her. Well it’s about time.

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