#and that's on new years epiphanies motherfuckers! eat shit!

[princessnijireiki]

wait okay so I def have been hearing & absorbing criticism from other Latines & Latin American ppl about Encanto bc imo it was still very nice, aesthetically beautiful, and better than I was expecting from Disney, but yeah, white writers & directors & producers, obvs Lin has only written 1.5 musicals in his life and keeps remixing them for everything else he's hired for (Encanto is just surprising bc it's one of his most successful executions, I think he def detracted from & held back Moana's potential a LOT), and as soon as they announced Encanto my first thought was, "were no Colombian songwriters available?" bc besides him being under contract... VERY weird that he is the one size fits all "It Boy™️" for white Hollywood's take on Latin rep rn

which is to say: I am open to less than glowing reviews of it!

HOWEVER, I saw a FB post on my feed from somebody complaining abt not liking the story or songs, but being like, "I loved seeing representation for all my AfroLatinx friends & family, though!" and it irked the shit out of me, and I couldn't place why... girl... I just remembered lmao.

first of all, no she's not Hispanic, so yes that was irritating, idk that she has any Latino family in the first place. secondly, yes she adored Hamilton.

thirdly... THIRDLY. I tend to forget she did this because it was in fucking sane & completely out of left field. she's the one who asked me both to brainstorm a "nonappropriative way" to do a Día de Muertos taco themed birthday party for one of her now-ex friends... and no I am not Mexican... and no it did not occur to her to just serve tacos without doing an ethnic "theme" complete w Party City type decor & costumes. and also asked me to translate a list of chores for that same ex-friend's new maid into Spanish bc she hired someone who didn't speak English (likely to be exploitatively cheap!) and did not herself speak Spanish... which is an INSANE ASK OFF TOP, RIGHT. but Y'ALL. to this day she has yet to hear me ever speak Spanish in front of her!!! she has never heard ANYBODY in my family speak Spanish!!! she assumed I spoke Spanish, was fluent, was open to that crazy fucking request, and that I SPECIFICALLY would have strong vocab skills in fucking cleaning products & bullying minimum wage employees.

I've talked about that incident on here before tbh just because every time I remember it it pisses me off AND bewilders me bc she would rightfully be fucking offended if I said, "oh we're doing a costumed sushi, samurai & Shinto funeral themed party lol" or "oh you definitely know how to say 'scrub the shit out from under the rim of the toilet & wash my dirty panties on 'sanitize' mode, oh also you get one unpaid 15min break' in Japanese, right?" ...and bc she's Black this weird ass fucking behavioral issue of hers is also not sth that came up in Black cultural discussions, bc of COURSE that racism is not directed towards herself or the aspects of MY identity that WE have in common. but when your baseline interactions are not fucked up in that specific way (until they suddenly are), it feels really weird to get the "nice" liberal "progressive" version of being called a fucking wetback by someone you considered a friend.

and anyway yeah she don't like Encanto but she's claiming all the Black rep + not a peep on the Indigenous rep, political backdrop, narratives of trauma, the artistic context it functions within, etc (and to top it all off Yes: she graduated w a whole history degree, Yes: she literally used to work doing historical reenactments alongside Native reenactors + costumed conquistadors in one of the local Spanish cities, and Yes: she still has a job in the history & education field).

and yk, this is one of those things where as a post it started out about Encanto & the importance of #ownvoices creation AND intracommunity convos re: critique of our own cultural works outside of a white, colonial, and/or xenophobic gaze, plus, like... general things people do that piss me off lol. but the post is ending on this note instead:

in 2022 I need to get used to the idea of not only continuing to assert boundaries over how I'm treated going forward— because at my big age now, I would never let that shit fly again, but my whole life, I've endured a LOT of shitty one-sided friendships just because I didn't know I didn't HAVE to LET people treat me bad... and there was never any shortage of people who WOULDN'T have done that to me, but that internal weakness & vulnerability, like that lack of self respect + enforcing standards of that respect from others, both attracts people who like you not having strong boundaries, AND it mentally closes you off to being open to relationships that DON'T look that way, because you think it's normal to endure physical cruelty or being demeaned or being expected to demean YOURSELF to access or deserve love or companionship.

but I also need to get more & more accustomed to stepping on toes in a very big way in order to do it. like in a very permanent, soccer cleats to the instep kind of way. because it's EASY to do that with people you don't give a shit about. who have no power over you, or whose treatment you aren't numb to (tbh FB is mostly sth I use for family, so the fact that this is usually background noise should tell you she's not the only person I need to remove from my friends list lol) or who you aren't clinging to out of some unaddressed desperation, loneliness, or needing closure, hesitation to abandon invested time (sunk cost fallacy...) or just being too afraid to confront the fact that someone you'd never do that to treats you badly BECAUSE they think of you exactly as badly as they act.

but no matter what reason you have for not having done it sooner... it feels silly the first time you accept a small frivolous thing like a cartoon can be a catalyst... but even if the last fucking straw is something stupid, that camel's back ain't any less broken. so it's a hard life skill. but I accept that I need to put loyalty to MYSELF over unearned loyalty to others, especially if that loyalty was spat on, exploited, and abused. and that includes the process of getting comfortable with hurting people's feelings when you tell them no & walk away.

but YEAH whew it's surreal to process that the last nail in the coffin of resentment that this friendship is being buried in is a fairly mild post about a Disney cartoon, specifically because 1) I've spent a long time (on this website specifically, actually) learning how to outsmart my ADHD by verbalizing my anger in longform stream of consciousness until I remember what dots to connect, and it clicks— can't do that on Twitter, baby— and 2) because in the years I've known this person, I've done a lot of self-work on self-valuation (ironically: a narrative theme of Encanto), and that means the cartoon post SHOULD have bothered me BECAUSE not only is it a friendship I've outgrown, I am & always have been worth more than being treated like that. so now the next step is I just gotta get used to making that the other person's problem, because it's damn sure not mine.

[anteroom-of-death]

Life, for Dummies p7

a/n: this motherfucker was written and edited on google docs mobile shit app, i am sorry, but lookie!!! masters back!!!

  Life petered out into a pattern, you moved, you got a job as a clerk in a small town far away and set up shop. You had to scrounge for parts and made your own little cobble-stocked detectors and screwdriver. It couldn’t kill- yet, but it could maim. At the moment, that was all you needed.

The change of scenery was welcome. It wasn’t the place that it all started. A new place to feel new emotions. It was wonderful to heal. The subtle chains of longing and want for that exotic lifestyle and all the trimmings started falling away. 

You’d even taken a cheeky plot. Some aliens went to draw resources from the Earth to sell, you promised them you wouldn’t kill them all, if they gave you a cut of the profit. In gold. 

You got a pretty continuous penny. Kept you in shoes. And black market tech stolen from invaders past…

You’d fallen into a bit of a routine, 7 AM, wake up, get ready. 8 am, scan for extraterrestrials and other signs of life, 9 AM till 5 PM work, then home, relax, tinker, in bed by 11, refresh repeat. 

The routine calmed you and brought you an air of stability and joy. Nothing could be better than knowing what you were doing, and the job was routine. Knowing what the day brought stopped you from any freakouts that might occur. Prevented any poor saps coming in from unexpectedly being a victim of your grasps for power and control. You even used your paychecks from this job to make your small rented cottage into a true palace and spa. Fit for a fallen queen. It wasn’t like you had to answer to anyone but the tax collectors and your boss. Though both, hypothetically could be thwarted if you knew how to use psychic projection. That would have been fun- no gods, no masters, not even normal citizenship. 

Though you liked the cover. A good cover was good.

One balmy summer night you sat on your patio, stoking a small fire and indulging yourself in a marathon of one of those 90’s sitcoms that were overhyped and popular on your laptop, a stiff drink in your hand. It was a perfect night, the bugs were chirping, you heard an owl in the distance hooting to the crescent moon. You were so relaxed and flexing your feet muscles and considered sleeping out here, it was a weekend, you could afford such simple luxuries. You enabled your scanners up and turned on your night system and settled in, the familiar theme song dragging you into sleep…

You heard the urgent beeping of your system and it jarred you from your dreamless slumber. You were groggy and a tad sore but still trying to spring to action. You grabbed from the side table your makeshift screwdriver and your flyswatter, if whoever was unfazed by your laser beam  they’d have to deal with that, then possibly you would die. 

It wasn’t the best protection, but it was a little comfort. 

Assuming a general position of what you’d assume was a good self-defense you turned and saw the TARDIS struggling to both get through and figure out a shape. A tree? A shed? Something else? It finally settled on a tree and broke through your barrier. You didn’t exactly relax, in turn you rubbed your eye and exhaled sarcastically. Him? Now?

A little frustrated noise, not unlike a cats meow escaped from somewhere deep inside your chest as he walked out.

“There you are!” He smiled but seemed very frustrated and something brewing deeper. Yet he seemed like he was honestly so glad he found you, like when you misplace your hair tie, but realize it’s on your wrist. 

“I thought I lost you! I went to your place and found a very confused family. Had to wipe their minds. Poor idiots.” He grinned and shook his wrists a bit. 

“The fuck you want?” You spat out and turned your neck up as the sky and shook your head incredulously. It was over a year for his disappearance and dumping you at your old house. You were miles away and settled into a new life. He was at the very last thought, a painful memory.

He sauntered over to where you were. “I’ve thought it over!” He raised a probing finger towards your face after pointing to his temples. You grabbed at his wrist and twisted it before kneeing him in the groin and letting him fall down. You tutted and turned around.

How dare he? 

“Oh, hear me out.” He said in a velvet tease, some hostility creeping in. You snapped in a second. You shoved him down, pinning all your mass on top of him and pulling up like you were going to punch him. He was laughing like he was positively unhinged, his eyes glittered dangerously, a bit of pride and fear mixed with mania. 

You punched the ground directly above his head and got off him. You chided yourself for being a coward, lips puckering inward. 

“So you ‘had your time’?” You used grossly huge air quotes and went to massage your neck. You had slept on it funny and it was a huge jostle to wake up in such a hurry.

What was originally a banner night turned sour.

He got up and sat on your chair and immediately made himself comfy. “It was barely a week.”

You crossed your arms around your stomach and hissed, as your eyes slit shut. “Try a fucking year, Einstein.”

“See! No time!”

Your anger spiked and a throbbing pain entered your temple sharply. 

“Yes, yes time.” You dignified him with a response, though every instinct told you not to. You kept slowly shaking your head and rubbing at your head and neck. 

Quietly, you half looked him in the eye and went glassy, “I should just kill you and keep killing you every time you regenerate.” You sat down numbly on your outside coffee table. He made a little noise like he had a bout of indigestion. His lips puttered a bit out. He gave a dopey half-grin. 

“Nice set up.” He twirled around his finger at your whole situation. “Rudimentary, but clever. You really are such a smart one.” 

“Go, I still haven’t made up my mind about execution.” You twisted his age-old words back at him like a knife, “But I need time.” 

You crossed your legs and your arms again and sat in silence, your anger visibly radiating from you like a bad case of the shakes. Your chest ached dully as old wounds got ripped open. The emotions you worked through came out of the woodwork in droves. You were positively bewildered, you were abandoned and now he danced back in to grace you with an appearance and words said ages ago that cut you deeply. 

You tapped your finger on the corner of your table and tutted again. Silence echoed louder than any screaming match ever could. 

“It wasn’t that overtly long…” He reasoned gently.

“Fourteen months, ten jobs, four therapists and one new place later.” You ground in your jaw and teeth.

He genuinely weighed those words in his mind, he finished the rest of your drink gone warm, you figured to add a few woodblocks to the fire’s embers, it was past midnight so a chill had graced the cloudless night. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but in the low lighting made him look especially attractive. 

You continued to shoot daggers out from your eyes and quietly sulk. You said your peace and were waiting until he learned it and left. You were really starting to get sleepy and your face had been a little ruddy due to the humidity, you probably weren’t at your best for wit or anything garnering intimidation.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Sorry don’t change the past.” 

His lips twitched at that. For a brief second you nearly joined him in it. 

“I know. I accidentally made a fixed event. I regret it. I lost track of time. Rather not like me…” He mused, half justifying his actions.

Your eyes glazed over and you focused on the fire and it’s cracks and warmth bathing your skin. He was swallowing hard, you could tell his mind was working out a trillion little clever things to say, or maybe the best way to organically force you to drop your defenses. 

“I thought of you every day. I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I can’t eat. I keep forgetting to drink something. You-” You cut him off, “Oh, so your inability to take care of yourself now...suddenly is my fault?” You crossed your arms again. “It’s been a week for you, in your lifespan, a weeks nothing! I blink my eyes and that’s a Time Lord’s week! Meanwhile, I’ve had to deal with all the fall out of learning to be a normal fucking human!” 

He weighed your input more. It was uncomfortable and you didn’t trust the scent of black locust wood and a few twigs you found in your yard, the leftover alcohol in your system, or the pretty man in front of you. You needed your resolve and to keep irate and upright.

“I know when you’re scared, and you have and had every right to be. And angry. I know you. I know I was rash and made poor choices. It doesn’t cancel out this, but please, give me a chance.”

“So the next time things cut a little too closely to the bone, you dump me somewhere else?” You added the tune.

“No…” He went to defend himself. “I’ve decided I can’t do that.”

“Whoopdiedo!” You tossed your hands up in the air. “What a goddamn epiphany to have now.”

“I can leave you to your dramatics and come back at a better time…” He shifted forward in your chair. You rolled your eyes and tapped your crossed ankles a bit before relaxing. You hated it, but you wanted to hear him out. He definitely was being patient and not blowing you to dust for your actions, so obviously, he wanted something.

But what?

“Fine. Say what you got to, then let me think.” You tried out giving yourself a bit of backbone.

“I think I care for you.” He started. The words came out like he was a school boy and much younger and naiver than you knew him to be. “No, scratch that. I do care. I’ve always cared. I...other than care.” He shook his head vertically like he didn’t exactly expect to get this far or word things out to you. He was twitching a bit and it made you inhale, almost laugh. It was kind of pleasurable that the great and terrifying Master was on your property, struggling to get a sentence out.

You scratched a spot on the bridge of your nose.

“I need you. You’re more to me than just something or someone. You’re mine.”

“Oh, okay. So just because of all that I can just forget the hell you put me through?” You said the words softly. “I wanted to kill myself.” You swallowed then in the tiniest voice, “I wanted to kill you…” 

“Master, you left me, for what I presumed after a few weeks, for dead. Like you’d gone on, someone waved something shiney or you’d gone off and decided that thinking wasn’t worth it. I understand that you care, but I need assurance and to just...rebuild trust.”

You gestured with your hands making little rebuilding remarks. You staggered out a difficult breath.

“I understand...but I want you near me. You’re my pet. And I can’t go anywhere without my pet…Mine..”

You must have looked like you had been having a seizure, because he asked, “Are you having a seizure?” 

“And the punches keep coming.” You made a mental note to if any deity existed, when you died, you’d personally make them pay in sheer annoyance for not giving you a chance here. He looked so vulnerable and caring, positively lamblike. 

“Lay it out to me straight, no snowjobs here.” You said, the night close to taking its total toll on you. You were just drained and exhausted. No other way to put it. 

“Please come back with me?” He went out to touch you as you infestimely pulled away. “That’s all I want, for now.” He was so earnest, so against your better judgment you rubbed your eyes and groaned loudly into your palms. You gave in and buckled your will. 

“I’ll sleep on it, come back tomorrow, I’ll have your answer.” 

“Thank you, Y/N.” 

You walked him back and saw him inside and off, before heading into bed.

For the first time in a while, you felt yourself cry. 

[insecure-hbo-recaps]

hella open

Previously on Insecure: Issa slept with Lawrence but Lawrence is apparently with Tasha. Lawrence told Tasha, and it didn't go well. Lawrence moved out of Chad's place. Molly's therapist helped her try to move up a level at work. Issa starts to accept that Lawrence is done.

Issa is having a red wine and chill with some random. She's wearing a purple football jersey for the occasion, which is an interesting choice. Her hair is braided down in a protective after-shampooing set of Celie cornrows like... it tickles me when famous black women publicly do stuff that is just-for-at-home and mainstream media loses their shit over it (see also Rihanna wearing sparkly bobby pins in her wrapped hair) but, Insecure is for us. I'm not so sure I can cosign this ostentatiously quirky style choice, lol.

The guy moves in to kiss her and Issa awkwardly accepts it. She continually giggles while he is trying to be sexy, past the point where he is amused by it. As an aside, this is everything:

Issa is frankly annoying him now - I get that it's weird for her to have sex with a new person after being with Lawrence for five years. The first time I had a serious long term relationship I was surprised how weird it was to begin sleeping with someone new again. It wasn't something I thought I'd have a problem with, since obviously I'd never had a boyfriend and that was the weird thing. But, it was. Issa asks to reschedule, but she has blown this dude's high - he's wearing jeans with cutouts at the knee, this is some Eric Benet California shit - he doesn't really want to try again. This didn't work. So Issa gets dressed to leave.

Dunes. Issa is about to leave for work when she catches sight of the plume of smoke she burned into her wall at last week's party. She also notices before she goes that the new property management has issued what appears to be every apartment notices for noise violations, taped to their doors.

On the way out, Issa runs into one of the bloods that crashed her party. He has a really big, weird shaped head.

It reminds me of this kid I went to high school with named Mickey who had a big oversized head that sort of came to a point at the top; so more a triangle than round head. Of course now that I've spent several years working in developmental pediatrics I know what happened there is that he should have had a helmet as an infant and his parents didn't get him one, but at the time it was just there goes Mickey with his big ass pointed head that he for some reason chooses to accuentuate with a cloth headband. (This was obviously during the Rocafella era when that was en vogue for men.) I actually think that he ended up being shot and murdered as an adult, but for the life of me I cannot remember his last name in order to check and I'm not exactly on speaking terms with my high school classmates.

Anyway, Mickey (I don't know that we ever get to hear his name and I'm going to make the executive decision that it doesn't matter) says he had fun at Issa's party and she watches him go.

Molly's law office. She's skyping with Hannah in the Chicago office as well as the TSA agent from Get Out, Quintin, a fellow lawyer in a trendy bow tie. There's a Chicago joke about the sun shining so he's going to the beach. That doesn't work here because Chicago is not an overcast city and we don't have an excessive amount of cloudy days. You're thinking Portland, Insecure writers. Idk why the actor didn't correct him, since apparently he's also from Chicago. In the summer I hang a dark blanket on the window behind my blinds because my bedroom is east facing and there's too much sun for 75% of the day. Anyway, they bond over being the token black lawyers and it's all lovely and relatable.

High school. As you may have noticed, I really don't give a shit about this storyline. I did think it was interesting that Issa ended up being the bad guy in this scenario, as the show's hero, because you are definitely tempted to take her side in this. Frida comes across as an overly Clueless White Person with her concerns that the after school program is only black children while Issa isn't bothered because she's just glad the program is full. When I watched this the first time I was uncomfortable with it because while I didn't exactly disagree with Issa's blase attitude, I did think the show made it clear enough that she wasn't doing the right thing to take it. Of course this season will make it overtly clear - more than the first season did in my opinion - that Issa's judgment is sure in the fuck not to be trusted, and this was just another way that they established that. Duly noted that white people aren't always wrong when it comes to race. Issa's attitude doesn't sit well with Frida.

Multicultural Silicon Valley start up, aka Lawrence's computery job. It looks like he's wearing one of those Untuck It shirts. Tangent. I went out with this guy who was born in the 70s because he started hitting on me when I was working on my laptop at Map Room and trying not to cry because I was texting with my new boyfriend-even-though-we'd-been-fucking-for-the-last-three-years-not-as-a-couple because he up and booked a flight for a 10 day trip to Costa Rica and didn't tell me about it til afterward. I was two La Fin du Mondes in already and when I went to close out, the random man offered to buy me another, apparently not noticing my teary eyes. Anyway, because he was born in the 70s, he was particularly preoccupied with anything young and trendy, and frequently mentioned his Untuck It shirts to me. Granted they do look expensive and well made in real life. But they're also just regular fucking shirts that charge a 300% premium because they cut them slightly shorter so that you don't have to... guess what... tuck them in. I've literally only ever seen or heard of these shirts due to advertisements during daytime CNN or MSNBC viewing so like... who's supposed to be impressed by this?

Anyway, The Generic White Guy is obnoxiously eating snack food made from crickets, and Lawrence is talking about his trip to Phuket, so we get the full range of lovely diversity at work in this cool, trendy environment. Apparently the ethnic girl next to Lawrence slept with Corny Colin, which the blonde teases her about. Ethnic Girl is not amused by it. The group discusses a company social, but Lawrence can't go because he "promised someone he'd pick up some chairs." So he's going to go to Tasha's family bbq after all. The group clearly regards Lawrence as a trendsetter amongst what's hot and what's not - a distinction I feel that certain types of black people, in certain environments, are relegated to simply because black culture is presumed to be cooler than the other prevailing cultures - and everyone is disappointed that he will not be going.

Loading dock. Molly is wearing a fabulous black skirt suit with leather trimmed lapels. She's on the phone with her mom about the vow renewal thing her parents keep bugging her about. A worker comes out with her bookcase and assumes the random black man standing nearby is there with her. He asks if he should hand it over and everyone looks at each other, blanketed by the wrongness of the assumptions all around. Molly scoffs that she's not with him, and makes to pick up the bookcase by herself.

Yes, it is exactly as absurd as you'd think it would be, and two things. Motherfuck this whole concept where black women aren't allowed or should be or expected to be the normal amount of "feminine" granted to every other woman. I had this epiphany somewhere not long after high school when I realized how panicked and backed up against the wall I felt that my natural inclination was to resist any kind of vulnerability and the realization that I didn't want to have to be "strong" all the time. That wasn't going to work for me. I am damsel in distress all the time. You will stop when I cross the street, even if I'm timing it wrong with the stop signs - when I politely give you the right of way, you will insist I cross instead. You will pause to let me pass and open doors when I do. You will push my car out of the snow. You will offer to carry the leftovers from the restaurant. I dated a guy who insisted on walking down the stairs in front of me when I was wearing high heels, just in case I tripped. Point being, with regards to this scene, I wouldn't have lifted that shit. I wouldn't have carried shit. I would have been pointedly unable to carry that box. I'd have stood there for a half hour if that's as long as it took for someone to offer to carry the box for me. But it wouldn't have. When you behave with the expectation that you are a woman and you expect to be treated like a woman, something kinda funny happens... people treat you like a delicate woman. It doesn't escape my notice that the black man the worker assumed was there for Molly is there with a white woman, whose boxes he handily carries, while Molly struggles absurdly with the bulky oblong in her five inch heels down a flight of stairs. No ma'am. Later for "strong black womanhood," in this physical sense at any rate.

Molly's fantastic apartment. She's telling Issa she's putting her therapy on hold until she finds another therapist. Naturally, therapy was hitting too close to home, so Molly's instinct was to run from the truth. They are trying to put together this Ikea ass bookcase (related to my previous tangent, whenever I need this kind of manly work done, I outsource it now. Task Rabbit is an app, y'all. That's what it's for. It's not as solid a solution as having an actual man around or anything, but on some level I simply refuse to become a handyman myself just out of sheer principle. You will not deny me my femininity this way, it is a political issue at this point to me.)

Anyway, Molly is bitching about the therapist trying to get too close "just because we both got brown titties." Issa abides this silently. I can't believe they unironically drink Carlo Rossi. I remember being a kid and trying to learn about this kind of stuff and making a note from, of all places, an episode of Intervention about what kinds of wine people actually drink. Haha! (And yes, it was the huge gallon jug of Carlo Rossi.) Issa encourages Molly to keep looking for a new therapist, which Molly flips back on Issa regarding not finding a new Lawrence either.

Issa recounts how she couldn't do casual sex because she was too stuck in her own head. I'm so glad this has never been a problem for me LOL. I don't even know what my social life would be like if I had a hang up about this issue. They decide they should be doing their "ho phase" together - but then Issa met Lawrence and he "made [her] fall in love with him and shit." Issa wants to get on Team Fuck Love, and asks Molly "can you teach me how to ho?" "Bitch that's rude... and yes," Molly replies.

Late night spot. Issa is wearing a ridiculous outfit as she ridicules the other thirsty women in the spot that are there for an apparently different kind of thirst than the one she is. Seriously, what were we supposed to think about this outfit?

Baby, no. Especially as a woman walks past wearing the exact same bad dress. She's also wearing what I'm sure are an expensive pair of espadrilles, but they are wedge espadrilles, with a red floral print. Plainly, that outfit is ridiculous. Issa suggests a vacation to somewhere where they'll be exotic. Molly doesn't care, and seems very underwhelmed by the night.

Issa is chatting with some guy, making awkward double entendres and sexual innuendos. The guy is not amused and flat out walks away from her mid conversation. The next guy at the bar keeps peeling his eyes around at everything else but Issa, finally admitting that he's only talking to her because his friend wanted to talk to Molly. Issa is the grenade. Dayuuuuum, bro. "Do you have any other friends?" he asks, which Issa doesn't dignify with a response.

Molly is talking to Sterling K Brown and is still underwhelmed with the night - the way his friend was only talking to Issa, she's only talking to him. He asks for her number and Molly coolly hands him her business card. She joins Issa at the bar, who has given up on the night and ordered a plate of wings. I get it. There's only so much humiliation you can take when you put yourself out there to pick up a random at the bar. Hell, at least Issa has a friend with her while she does it.

Tasha's house. Tasha is in bed with Lawrence with her hair wrapped gossiping about tv shows. Lawrence tries to distract her and get amorous but Tasha isn't interested in going there. She pushes Lawrence away and we are treated to more of the show-within-a-show.

Back at the Dune's, Issa (in her middle-of-the-bed pillow) can't sleep so she pulls out her vibrator. The battery dies and she spends like ten minutes walking around the apartment looking for new batteries. And, why don't you have a magic wand? True story: I held off buying any kind of sex toys because I never had any and it made me have to seek out men if I wanted to have a sexual encounter; I (it turned out, rightly) figured that if I had any sex toys it would discourage and demotivate me from meeting actual men. Guess what... I was completely correct, and my love life took a marked down turn the same year I bought a magic wand of my own. Could have been timing, coincidence, I don't know, but it was interesting. I have since incorporated it into my regular sex life. (My boyfriend-that-I-loved-so-much-I-was-always-crying was amused the first time I used it with him, calling it "violent" and "over the top" because I was "loud" and it "plugged into the wall." lol. I did nothing but laugh and concede the point, because he was right. But in other news, fun fact: it also works on men, so if you are hooking up with someone that you don't actually want to have sex with, everyone can have an orgasm with no intercourse whatsoever.)

There are a few scenes about Molly's being underpaid and Issa missing the discrimination that I'm going to skip because the point has been made already.

Lunch. Molly is on a date with Sterling K Brown. He's showing her pictures of his niece on his phone, because he's a Good Black Man looking for a Good Black Woman. Actually, given the champagne flute and the bottle on the table I'm going to assume this is brunch (mimosas, you see). Sterling K Brown is wearing an interesting outfit, what says the tribunal?

This rote-date-conversation centers around the fact that they both have ticking biological clocks, and that Sterling K Brown is not being at all ambiguous about his intentions. Molly seems uncomfortable, and isn't following this conversation as well as a woman would be if she were truly interested. I gotta say, Sterling K Brown comes off as a LITTLE thirsty... but, considering Molly really does the most when it comes to choosing a man, like... you can't empathize with her at all. Do we know this, do viewers know this? Molly is wrong and ridiculous and has no clue what she is doing, and her choosing criteria is wildly outdated, immature, and foolish. Like, there is no shrewdness to her relationship behavior at all. She is doing nothing that would prove to be in her best interests or better her life circumstances at all, even if it were just casually dating a potential husband so that you have that back up available when things aren’t going well. This is the kind of thing I might of done before I realized it may be an actual real possibility that I actually might not find the husband I wanted some day.

California Family Cookout. There's ribs, there's dominoes. You feel right at home. Lawrence shows up in some hipster ass shirt, carrying chairs as promised. Tasha is wearing a lime green midi dress with scribbled print and a lopsided sew in. It works, as long as you don't pause at the wrong moment. Why am I hating on both their outfits? Let's move on. Tasha's relatives line up to get a good look at Lawrence and he is clearly there in a capacity of Tasha's Man Friend... which he looks decidedly uncomfortable with. Well, what the fuck were you expecting, Lawrence? Why do you think she hedged around inviting you, and made it clear you didn't have to come?

Lawrence's coworker texts him, and he decides to take it as an out, telling Tasha he'll be right back. "Oh... ok," she says. Damn. Again, people were furious over the "thirsty" character of Tasha. Meanwhile I'm just over here wondering why fellow black women didn't have more sympathy for her flexibility. Some of the time when I peek back into conversations in The Community, I am reminded of all kinds of toxic shit I used to feel and believe when I was younger that I eventually had to unlearn in the interests of any kind of healthy interpersonal life. She cheerfully says she'll see him later, and he leaves.

Molly is at a cupcake shop - those are a thing, y'all, and why? I live near one that granted, makes delicious cupcakes, but they cost like fucking four and a half dollars for one REGULAR SIZE muffin tin mold cupcake! Funnily enough, they are actually named "Molly's Cupcakes." Someone calls out that they will pay for her cupcakes, and it appears to be someone Molly knows:

A guy named Dro and his ostensible wife, who playfully criticizes Molly's insistence on wearing "ugly" dark colors - it's a black greek thing. (The wife is Delta, which I presume makes Molly AKA). The married couple set up the plot for next week's episode, expositing that they are in town for the Kiss n Grind party. It's clear that Molly knows Dro from way back, and the wife is newer.

Dunes. Issa has decided to paint over her burnt wall. She's typically spastic at it, dripping paint everywhere and making a mess. While cleaning off the roller, she spots Mickey Bighead lounging by the pool and is apparently attracted by what she sees. Molly calls; Issa notes her "high pitched fakeness" as she describes the date with Sterling K Brown: although there is clearly nothing wrong with him it's obvious to the both of them that Molly just isn't into it. For SOME reason. And this is the thing that is frustrating about Molly... there's never any legitimate or tangible reason why she has no interest in normal men and normal relationships, or why she brushes off scenarios that would be good for her. Like, what is she looking for instead? What's wrong with Sterling K Brown? Why would she not be interested in him? There are no red flags - it's not his looks, it's not that he's not a professional peer, it's not his baggage as he is unmarried with no children. And perhaps that is the point the show is making - that just because she should be interested in him, that doesn't mean she has to be. In the larger context of women "wanting it all" or "not settling," the point is valid. But in a practical sense, Molly is being ridiculous and her actions are not justified. This is how bitches end up single til 40 when they wind up marrying a bald janitor in the end anyway, is all I'm saying. Making smart choices don’t always feel like the choices you want to make.

Molly is comparing her lack of interest in Sterling K Brown with the fact that Candace and Dro are happy despite the fact that Dro was a mess and never had a "five year plan." So I guess that's what her problem is. She has no idea what will make her happy and is constantly peeking in other peoples' lives like it will tell her what would work in hers. You can always find a reason why a person is lacking when you compare them to someone else because... people aren't the same.

Start up Happy Hour. Lawrence shows up and his coworkers are happy to see him. They know the workplace is one big ho fest once enough drinks start flowing. Ethnic Girl is still pointed about regretting hooking up with Generic White Guy. Which, rude.

Issa has painted over her wall, which looks really good. But then she notices she neglected the smoke on the ceiling. Knowing she can't reach it, she reckons with it and tells it, "you can't have my joy." She spots Mickey Bighead going into his apartment and concocts a plan. She pulls out her charger and takes it down to Mickey's asking whether he left it at her house at her party. He seems momentarily taken aback, but recovers smoothly enough to invite her in.

Start Up Saturday. Lawrence gets a text from Tasha wondering where he is. Ethnic Girl asks what his deal is - and I kind of hate those "work people" that you can tell their primary source of social capital comes from people they meet in and around the work environment. Like other people are wrong for having a life outside of work and are not as immersed as you are. They ask whether Lawrence is single as a waitress comes up to flirt with him. Although Lawrence says he has to take off soon, her overt interest is all it takes for him to stay for a round of shots.

Back at Mickey's they're talking about Gossip Girl. Blake Lively is the most generic white woman on the face of the planet. "Yeah, white people," Mickey says. "There's so many of them," Issa adds awkwardly. Lol. Issa daydreams a confidence boost rap to convince herself to make a move: "even if it's wack, you can still get some head!" Unflattering accidental pause moment:

Issa makes an awkward kiss move, accidentally knocking him in the nose with her forehead. It works anyway, and they start making out. The first time I watched this I was a little annoyed because while I understand Issa's excitement over her new body, her constantly barely clothed state this season just seems so gratuitous. The fact that I personally don't like her body type - not to say she hasn't done a lot of work on it! - mainly just annoyed me. And I don't enjoy her sex scenes. Molly's sex scenes and Lawrence's sex scenes are great. So it's always kind of a let down when we have to watch Issa have sex. Her bra collection is excellent though, I guess.

Mickey asks if he could titty fuck her, which Issa "respectfully decline[s]." He wants to put her legs over her head, which she is uncomfortable with. Her head is squashed into the headboard and it's terrible. To her credit, Issa asks to change positions and finds a way that suits her better. He's wearing white socks. Aw. Flashbacks.

Molly is at home, working with a glass of red. Sterling K Brown invites her to a SZA concert and she declines. He comes back with a dinner invitation which she doesn't even reply to. Whatever, Molly. But hey, she heard my complaints and hired some random men to put the cabinet together for her! There's that at least.

Start up Saturday. Everyone's drunk and Lawrence is explaining the concept of his app to the two girls. What IS "Woot Woot" exactly? Besides the fact that everyone makes fun of him when he talks about it, as far as I can tell it's some kind of group chat client? Idk. Tasha calls, and Lawrence puts the phone to his ear in the loud bar. Tasha is mildly agitated, asking what happened to him because he never came back; her family members are even now in the background asking about him. He apologizes and says he ended up drinking too much. Tasha says if he didn't want to come he should have just told her. Lawrence tries to brush it off but then admits he isn't looking for a serious relationship. Tasha is put out because he ghosted on her in front of her entire family; if he didn't want a serious thing he shouldn't have come. He embarrassed her. Lawrence apologizes in a way that still blames it on her: "I know how much you wanted me to be there." It's her fault for expecting his intentions to match his behavior, not his fault for not being up front and leading her on. Tasha tells him to stop acting like he gives a fuck about her feelings, because he "fronted like it was [something more], apologizing for shit" he knew he wasn't sorry for.

Lawrence insists he was being genuine. Tasha: "You're a fuck nigga. You're worse than a fuck nigga. You're a fuck nigga who thinks he's a good dude." And she hangs up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the cultural conundrum facing all of us in this new technologically advanced hook up landscape we are all attempting to navigate. I don't know how it used to be before Swiper Not Swiping and casual sex became the rule, not the exception, but I also find that men are preoccupied with being "good guys" in a way that belies their shitty behavior; some kind of veneer of honesty and distance that doesn't quite square with the level of intimacy and acquiescence they are seeking from their partners. Maybe back in the day it was understood you couldn't get that level of commitment without expressly acknowledging it; I find these days men think they get to have their cake and eat it too on this issue.

Anyway, look at this shit:

Bitch, what are you wearing? Those 1980s Jessie Spano mom jeans. Her name is "Arpana" which leads me to believe she's supposed to be Indian, but I think in real life her body type would indicate she is something else. She's probably Latina tbh. (And no I'm not going to google this to find out.) Anyway, Lawrence is laughing off his conversation with Tasha well enough as he rejoins the party.

Back at the Dunes, Issa is sneaking out of Mickey's apartment. She isn't quiet enough and he wakes up, offering for her to sleep over. Super generous considering she lives literally right upstairs. As Issa grabs her phone to go, she decides she isn't actually willing to sacrifice her phone charger for this farce, so she snatches it up too. But not to fear: it turns out Mickey was aware of her ruse the entire time, as his phone has been sitting plugged into his own not-missing charger the whole time. Issa can't even be mad as she lets out a chuckle and goes. She seems pleased, at least, with this first foray into "honess."

[insecure-hbo-the-recaps]

hella open

Previously on Insecure: Issa slept with Lawrence but Lawrence is apparently with Tasha. Lawrence told Tasha, and it didn’t go well. Lawrence moved out of Chad’s place. Molly’s therapist helped her try to move up a level at work. Issa starts to accept that Lawrence is done.

Issa is having a red wine and chill with some random. She’s wearing a purple football jersey for the occasion, which is an interesting choice. Her hair is braided down in a protective after-shampooing set of Celie cornrows like… it tickles me when famous black women publicly do stuff that is just-for-at-home and mainstream media loses their shit over it (see also Rihanna wearing sparkly bobby pins in her wrapped hair) but, Insecure is for us. I’m not so sure I can cosign this ostentatiously quirky style choice, lol.

The guy moves in to kiss her and Issa awkwardly accepts it. She continually giggles while he is trying to be sexy, past the point where he is amused by it. As an aside, this is everything:

Issa is frankly annoying him now - I get that it’s weird for her to have sex with a new person after being with Lawrence for five years. The first time I had a serious long term relationship I was surprised how weird it was to begin sleeping with someone new again. It wasn’t something I thought I’d have a problem with, since obviously I’d never had a boyfriend and that was the weird thing. But, it was. Issa asks to reschedule, but she has blown this dude’s high - he’s wearing jeans with cutouts at the knee, this is some Eric Benet California shit - he doesn’t really want to try again. This didn’t work. So Issa gets dressed to leave.

Dunes. Issa is about to leave for work when she catches sight of the plume of smoke she burned into her wall at last week’s party. She also notices before she goes that the new property management has issued what appears to be every apartment notices for noise violations, taped to their doors.

On the way out, Issa runs into one of the bloods that crashed her party. He has a really big, weird shaped head.

It reminds me of this kid I went to high school with named Mickey who had a big oversized head that sort of came to a point at the top; so more a triangle than round head. Of course now that I’ve spent several years working in developmental pediatrics I know what happened there is that he should have had a helmet as an infant and his parents didn’t get him one, but at the time it was just there goes Mickey with his big ass pointed head that he for some reason chooses to accuentuate with a cloth headband. (This was obviously during the Rocafella era when that was en vogue for men.) I actually think that he ended up being shot and murdered as an adult, but for the life of me I cannot remember his last name in order to check and I’m not exactly on speaking terms with my high school classmates.

Anyway, Mickey (I don’t know that we ever get to hear his name and I’m going to make the executive decision that it doesn’t matter) says he had fun at Issa’s party and she watches him go.

Molly’s law office. She’s skyping with Hannah in the Chicago office as well as the TSA agent from Get Out, Quintin, a fellow lawyer in a trendy bow tie. There’s a Chicago joke about the sun shining so he’s going to the beach. That doesn’t work here because Chicago is not an overcast city and we don’t have an excessive amount of cloudy days. You’re thinking Portland, Insecure writers. Idk why the actor didn’t correct him, since apparently he’s also from Chicago. In the summer I hang a dark blanket on the window behind my blinds because my bedroom is east facing and there’s too much sun for 75% of the day. Anyway, they bond over being the token black lawyers and it’s all lovely and relatable.

High school. As you may have noticed, I really don’t give a shit about this storyline. I did think it was interesting that Issa ended up being the bad guy in this scenario, as the show’s hero, because you are definitely tempted to take her side in this. Frida comes across as an overly Clueless White Person with her concerns that the after school program is only black children while Issa isn’t bothered because she’s just glad the program is full. When I watched this the first time I was uncomfortable with it because while I didn’t exactly disagree with Issa’s blase attitude, I did think the show made it clear enough that she wasn’t doing the right thing to take it. Of course this season will make it overtly clear - more than the first season did in my opinion - that Issa’s judgment is sure in the fuck not to be trusted, and this was just another way that they established that. Duly noted that white people aren’t always wrong when it comes to race. Issa’s attitude doesn’t sit well with Frida.

Multicultural Silicon Valley start up, aka Lawrence’s computery job. It looks like he’s wearing one of those Untuck It shirts. Tangent. I went out with this guy who was born in the 70s because he started hitting on me when I was working on my laptop at Map Room and trying not to cry because I was texting with my new boyfriend-even-though-we’d-been-fucking-for-the-last-three-years-not-as-a-couple because he up and booked a flight for a 10 day trip to Costa Rica and didn’t tell me about it til afterward. I was two La Fin du Mondes in already and when I went to close out, the random man offered to buy me another, apparently not noticing my teary eyes. Anyway, because he was born in the 70s, he was particularly preoccupied with anything young and trendy, and frequently mentioned his Untuck It shirts to me. Granted they do look expensive and well made in real life. But they’re also just regular fucking shirts that charge a 300% premium because they cut them slightly shorter so that you don’t have to… guess what… tuck them in. I’ve literally only ever seen or heard of these shirts due to advertisements during daytime CNN or MSNBC viewing so like… who’s supposed to be impressed by this?

Anyway, The Generic White Guy is obnoxiously eating snack food made from crickets, and Lawrence is talking about his trip to Phuket, so we get the full range of lovely diversity at work in this cool, trendy environment. Apparently the ethnic girl next to Lawrence slept with Corny Colin, which the blonde teases her about. Ethnic Girl is not amused by it. The group discusses a company social, but Lawrence can’t go because he “promised someone he’d pick up some chairs.” So he’s going to go to Tasha’s family bbq after all. The group clearly regards Lawrence as a trendsetter amongst what’s hot and what’s not - a distinction I feel that certain types of black people, in certain environments, are relegated to simply because black culture is presumed to be cooler than the other prevailing cultures - and everyone is disappointed that he will not be going.

Loading dock. Molly is wearing a fabulous black skirt suit with leather trimmed lapels. She’s on the phone with her mom about the vow renewal thing her parents keep bugging her about. A worker comes out with her bookcase and assumes the random black man standing nearby is there with her. He asks if he should hand it over and everyone looks at each other, blanketed by the wrongness of the assumptions all around. Molly scoffs that she’s not with him, and makes to pick up the bookcase by herself.

Yes, it is exactly as absurd as you’d think it would be, and two things. Motherfuck this whole concept where black women aren’t allowed or should be or expected to be the normal amount of “feminine” granted to every other woman. I had this epiphany somewhere not long after high school when I realized how panicked and backed up against the wall I felt that my natural inclination was to resist any kind of vulnerability and the realization that I didn’t want to have to be “strong” all the time. That wasn’t going to work for me. I am damsel in distress all the time. You will stop when I cross the street, even if I’m timing it wrong with the stop signs - when I politely give you the right of way, you will insist I cross instead. You will pause to let me pass and open doors when I do. You will push my car out of the snow. You will offer to carry the leftovers from the restaurant. I dated a guy who insisted on walking down the stairs in front of me when I was wearing high heels, just in case I tripped. Point being, with regards to this scene, I wouldn’t have lifted that shit. I wouldn’t have carried shit. I would have been pointedly unable to carry that box. I’d have stood there for a half hour if that’s as long as it took for someone to offer to carry the box for me. But it wouldn’t have. When you behave with the expectation that you are a woman and you expect to be treated like a woman, something kinda funny happens… people treat you like a delicate woman. It doesn’t escape my notice that the black man the worker assumed was there for Molly is there with a white woman, whose boxes he handily carries, while Molly struggles absurdly with the bulky oblong in her five inch heels down a flight of stairs. No ma'am. Later for “strong black womanhood,” in this physical sense at any rate.

Molly’s fantastic apartment. She’s telling Issa she’s putting her therapy on hold until she finds another therapist. Naturally, therapy was hitting too close to home, so Molly’s instinct was to run from the truth. They are trying to put together this Ikea ass bookcase (related to my previous tangent, whenever I need this kind of manly work done, I outsource it now. Task Rabbit is an app, y'all. That’s what it’s for. It’s not as solid a solution as having an actual man around or anything, but on some level I simply refuse to become a handyman myself just out of sheer principle. You will not deny me my femininity this way, it is a political issue at this point to me.)

Anyway, Molly is bitching about the therapist trying to get too close “just because we both got brown titties.” Issa abides this silently. I can’t believe they unironically drink Carlo Rossi. I remember being a kid and trying to learn about this kind of stuff and making a note from, of all places, an episode of Intervention about what kinds of wine people actually drink. Haha! (And yes, it was the huge gallon jug of Carlo Rossi.) Issa encourages Molly to keep looking for a new therapist, which Molly flips back on Issa regarding not finding a new Lawrence either.

Issa recounts how she couldn’t do casual sex because she was too stuck in her own head. I’m so glad this has never been a problem for me LOL. I don’t even know what my social life would be like if I had a hang up about this issue. They decide they should be doing their “ho phase” together - but then Issa met Lawrence and he “made [her] fall in love with him and shit.” Issa wants to get on Team Fuck Love, and asks Molly “can you teach me how to ho?” “Bitch that’s rude… and yes,” Molly replies.

Late night spot. Issa is wearing a ridiculous outfit as she ridicules the other thirsty women in the spot that are there for an apparently different kind of thirst than the one she is. Seriously, what were we supposed to think about this outfit?

Baby, no. Especially as a woman walks past wearing the exact same bad dress. She’s also wearing what I’m sure are an expensive pair of espadrilles, but they are wedge espadrilles, with a red floral print. Plainly, that outfit is ridiculous. Issa suggests a vacation to somewhere where they’ll be exotic. Molly doesn’t care, and seems very underwhelmed by the night.

Issa is chatting with some guy, making awkward double entendres and sexual innuendos. The guy is not amused and flat out walks away from her mid conversation. The next guy at the bar keeps peeling his eyes around at everything else but Issa, finally admitting that he’s only talking to her because his friend wanted to talk to Molly. Issa is the grenade. Dayuuuuum, bro. “Do you have any other friends?” he asks, which Issa doesn’t dignify with a response.

Molly is talking to Sterling K Brown and is still underwhelmed with the night - the way his friend was only talking to Issa, she’s only talking to him. He asks for her number and Molly coolly hands him her business card. She joins Issa at the bar, who has given up on the night and ordered a plate of wings. I get it. There’s only so much humiliation you can take when you put yourself out there to pick up a random at the bar. Hell, at least Issa has a friend with her while she does it.

Tasha’s house. Tasha is in bed with Lawrence with her hair wrapped gossiping about tv shows. Lawrence tries to distract her and get amorous but Tasha isn’t interested in going there. She pushes Lawrence away and we are treated to more of the show-within-a-show.

Back at the Dune’s, Issa (in her middle-of-the-bed pillow) can’t sleep so she pulls out her vibrator. The battery dies and she spends like ten minutes walking around the apartment looking for new batteries. And, why don’t you have a magic wand? True story: I held off buying any kind of sex toys because I never had any and it made me have to seek out men if I wanted to have a sexual encounter; I (it turned out, rightly) figured that if I had any sex toys it would discourage and demotivate me from meeting actual men. Guess what… I was completely correct, and my love life took a marked down turn the same year I bought a magic wand of my own. Could have been timing, coincidence, I don’t know, but it was interesting. I have since incorporated it into my regular sex life. (My boyfriend-that-I-loved-so-much-I-was-always-crying was amused the first time I used it with him, calling it “violent” and “over the top” because I was “loud” and it “plugged into the wall.” lol. I did nothing but laugh and concede the point, because he was right. But in other news, fun fact: it also works on men, so if you are hooking up with someone that you don’t actually want to have sex with, everyone can have an orgasm with no intercourse whatsoever.)

There are a few scenes about Molly’s being underpaid and Issa missing the discrimination that I’m going to skip because the point has been made already.

Lunch. Molly is on a date with Sterling K Brown. He’s showing her pictures of his niece on his phone, because he’s a Good Black Man looking for a Good Black Woman. Actually, given the champagne flute and the bottle on the table I’m going to assume this is brunch (mimosas, you see). Sterling K Brown is wearing an interesting outfit, what says the tribunal?

This rote-date-conversation centers around the fact that they both have ticking biological clocks, and that Sterling K Brown is not being at all ambiguous about his intentions. Molly seems uncomfortable, and isn’t following this conversation as well as a woman would be if she were truly interested. I gotta say, Sterling K Brown comes off as a LITTLE thirsty… but, considering Molly really does the most when it comes to choosing a man, like… you can’t empathize with her at all. Do we know this, do viewers know this? Molly is wrong and ridiculous and has no clue what she is doing, and her choosing criteria is wildly outdated, immature, and foolish. Like, there is no shrewdness to her relationship behavior at all. She is doing nothing that would prove to be in her best interests or better her life circumstances at all, even if it were just casually dating a potential husband so that you have that back up available when things aren’t going well. This is the kind of thing I might of done before I realized it may be an actual real possibility that I actually might not find the husband I wanted some day.

California Family Cookout. There’s ribs, there’s dominoes. You feel right at home. Lawrence shows up in some hipster ass shirt, carrying chairs as promised. Tasha is wearing a lime green midi dress with scribbled print and a lopsided sew in. It works, as long as you don’t pause at the wrong moment. Why am I hating on both their outfits? Let’s move on. Tasha’s relatives line up to get a good look at Lawrence and he is clearly there in a capacity of Tasha’s Man Friend… which he looks decidedly uncomfortable with. Well, what the fuck were you expecting, Lawrence? Why do you think she hedged around inviting you, and made it clear you didn’t have to come?

Lawrence’s coworker texts him, and he decides to take it as an out, telling Tasha he’ll be right back. “Oh… ok,” she says. Damn. Again, people were furious over the “thirsty” character of Tasha. Meanwhile I’m just over here wondering why fellow black women didn’t have more sympathy for her flexibility. Some of the time when I peek back into conversations in The Community, I am reminded of all kinds of toxic shit I used to feel and believe when I was younger that I eventually had to unlearn in the interests of any kind of healthy interpersonal life. She cheerfully says she’ll see him later, and he leaves.

Molly is at a cupcake shop - those are a thing, y'all, and why? I live near one that granted, makes delicious cupcakes, but they cost like fucking four and a half dollars for one REGULAR SIZE muffin tin mold cupcake! Funnily enough, they are actually named “Molly’s Cupcakes.” Someone calls out that they will pay for her cupcakes, and it appears to be someone Molly knows:

A guy named Dro and his ostensible wife, who playfully criticizes Molly’s insistence on wearing “ugly” dark colors - it’s a black greek thing. (The wife is Delta, which I presume makes Molly AKA). The married couple set up the plot for next week’s episode, expositing that they are in town for the Kiss n Grind party. It’s clear that Molly knows Dro from way back, and the wife is newer.

Dunes. Issa has decided to paint over her burnt wall. She’s typically spastic at it, dripping paint everywhere and making a mess. While cleaning off the roller, she spots Mickey Bighead lounging by the pool and is apparently attracted by what she sees. Molly calls; Issa notes her “high pitched fakeness” as she describes the date with Sterling K Brown: although there is clearly nothing wrong with him it’s obvious to the both of them that Molly just isn’t into it. For SOME reason. And this is the thing that is frustrating about Molly… there’s never any legitimate or tangible reason why she has no interest in normal men and normal relationships, or why she brushes off scenarios that would be good for her. Like, what is she looking for instead? What’s wrong with Sterling K Brown? Why would she not be interested in him? There are no red flags - it’s not his looks, it’s not that he’s not a professional peer, it’s not his baggage as he is unmarried with no children. And perhaps that is the point the show is making - that just because she should be interested in him, that doesn’t mean she has to be. In the larger context of women “wanting it all” or “not settling,” the point is valid. But in a practical sense, Molly is being ridiculous and her actions are not justified. This is how bitches end up single til 40 when they wind up marrying a bald janitor in the end anyway, is all I’m saying. Making smart choices don’t always feel like the choices you want to make.

Molly is comparing her lack of interest in Sterling K Brown with the fact that Candace and Dro are happy despite the fact that Dro was a mess and never had a “five year plan.” So I guess that’s what her problem is. She has no idea what will make her happy and is constantly peeking in other peoples’ lives like it will tell her what would work in hers. You can always find a reason why a person is lacking when you compare them to someone else because… people aren’t the same.

Start up Happy Hour. Lawrence shows up and his coworkers are happy to see him. They know the workplace is one big ho fest once enough drinks start flowing. Ethnic Girl is still pointed about regretting hooking up with Generic White Guy. Which, rude.

Issa has painted over her wall, which looks really good. But then she notices she neglected the smoke on the ceiling. Knowing she can’t reach it, she reckons with it and tells it, “you can’t have my joy.” She spots Mickey Bighead going into his apartment and concocts a plan. She pulls out her charger and takes it down to Mickey’s asking whether he left it at her house at her party. He seems momentarily taken aback, but recovers smoothly enough to invite her in.

Start Up Saturday. Lawrence gets a text from Tasha wondering where he is. Ethnic Girl asks what his deal is - and I kind of hate those “work people” that you can tell their primary source of social capital comes from people they meet in and around the work environment. Like other people are wrong for having a life outside of work and are not as immersed as you are. They ask whether Lawrence is single as a waitress comes up to flirt with him. Although Lawrence says he has to take off soon, her overt interest is all it takes for him to stay for a round of shots.

Back at Mickey’s they’re talking about Gossip Girl. Blake Lively is the most generic white woman on the face of the planet. “Yeah, white people,” Mickey says. “There’s so many of them,” Issa adds awkwardly. Lol. Issa daydreams a confidence boost rap to convince herself to make a move: “even if it’s wack, you can still get some head!” Unflattering accidental pause moment:

Issa makes an awkward kiss move, accidentally knocking him in the nose with her forehead. It works anyway, and they start making out. The first time I watched this I was a little annoyed because while I understand Issa’s excitement over her new body, her constantly barely clothed state this season just seems so gratuitous. The fact that I personally don’t like her body type - not to say she hasn’t done a lot of work on it! - mainly just annoyed me. And I don’t enjoy her sex scenes. Molly’s sex scenes and Lawrence’s sex scenes are great. So it’s always kind of a let down when we have to watch Issa have sex. Her bra collection is excellent though, I guess.

Mickey asks if he could titty fuck her, which Issa “respectfully decline[s].” He wants to put her legs over her head, which she is uncomfortable with. Her head is squashed into the headboard and it’s terrible. To her credit, Issa asks to change positions and finds a way that suits her better. He’s wearing white socks. Aw. Flashbacks.

Molly is at home, working with a glass of red. Sterling K Brown invites her to a SZA concert and she declines. He comes back with a dinner invitation which she doesn’t even reply to. Whatever, Molly. But hey, she heard my complaints and hired some random men to put the cabinet together for her! There’s that at least.

Start up Saturday. Everyone’s drunk and Lawrence is explaining the concept of his app to the two girls. What IS “Woot Woot” exactly? Besides the fact that everyone makes fun of him when he talks about it, as far as I can tell it’s some kind of group chat client? Idk. Tasha calls, and Lawrence puts the phone to his ear in the loud bar. Tasha is mildly agitated, asking what happened to him because he never came back; her family members are even now in the background asking about him. He apologizes and says he ended up drinking too much. Tasha says if he didn’t want to come he should have just told her. Lawrence tries to brush it off but then admits he isn’t looking for a serious relationship. Tasha is put out because he ghosted on her in front of her entire family; if he didn’t want a serious thing he shouldn’t have come. He embarrassed her. Lawrence apologizes in a way that still blames it on her: “I know how much you wanted me to be there.” It’s her fault for expecting his intentions to match his behavior, not his fault for not being up front and leading her on. Tasha tells him to stop acting like he gives a fuck about her feelings, because he “fronted like it was [something more], apologizing for shit” he knew he wasn’t sorry for.

Lawrence insists he was being genuine. Tasha: “You’re a fuck nigga. You’re worse than a fuck nigga. You’re a fuck nigga who thinks he’s a good dude.” And she hangs up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the cultural conundrum facing all of us in this new technologically advanced hook up landscape we are all attempting to navigate. I don’t know how it used to be before Swiper Not Swiping and casual sex became the rule, not the exception, but I also find that men are preoccupied with being “good guys” in a way that belies their shitty behavior; some kind of veneer of honesty and distance that doesn’t quite square with the level of intimacy and acquiescence they are seeking from their partners. Maybe back in the day it was understood you couldn’t get that level of commitment without expressly acknowledging it; I find these days men think they get to have their cake and eat it too on this issue.

Anyway, look at this shit:

Bitch, what are you wearing? Those 1980s Jessie Spano mom jeans. Her name is “Arpana” which leads me to believe she’s supposed to be Indian, but I think in real life her body type would indicate she is something else. She’s probably Latina tbh. (And no I’m not going to google this to find out.) Anyway, Lawrence is laughing off his conversation with Tasha well enough as he rejoins the party.

Back at the Dunes, Issa is sneaking out of Mickey’s apartment. She isn’t quiet enough and he wakes up, offering for her to sleep over. Super generous considering she lives literally right upstairs. As Issa grabs her phone to go, she decides she isn’t actually willing to sacrifice her phone charger for this farce, so she snatches it up too. But not to fear: it turns out Mickey was aware of her ruse the entire time, as his phone has been sitting plugged into his own not-missing charger the whole time. Issa can’t even be mad as she lets out a chuckle and goes. She seems pleased, at least, with this first foray into “honess.”