Back at the restaurant, Matt scopes out Cheryl's ass as he follows her to a table. He asks her to join him for dinner and, after a momentary fake-out, she smiles frighteningly widely and accepts the invitation. Go get your leopard skin, Cheryl. Maybe it can serve as camouflage when you're running through the forest, trying to escape from Matt, who is hungry like the wolf.
Isn't this supposed to be sweeps time? Shouldn't this episode be more sensationalistic than the rest? Maybe it already is, though. Maybe the sorts of people who enjoy this show also enjoy watching Mary almost-sin. "Go, Mary. Go!" they whisper. "Get as close to the sin as you can before you're punished! I want to watch you get punished like I was threatened to be punished before I became the kind of person who watches this show!" they murmur to themselves as they rock slowly and rhythmically in their hunter-green tweed chairs.
Mary tells Wilson the tragic, almost-sin-filled story about the gym she vandalized and the downward-careening spiral path her life has taken since then. Wilson says something about his dead wife that I don't hear because there's a FLOOD WARNING ADVISORY in effect as well as a T-STORM WATCH and those things make really loud beeping noises. Wilson tells Mary that long-distance relationships, such as the one between herself and Robbie, seldom work out. He also says that he'd be happy to be her friend if she's not willing to pursue anything more than that. I'm not sure, but I think he wants to have sex with her.
Matt and Cheryl blather about the food they just ate and how good it allegedly was. I bet they didn't really eat anything at all, though. I bet they just waited off-stage while some older guy put dirty-looking prop plates on their table. I also bet the older guy was sad that he wasn't an actor, like Barry Watson. Cheryl's hair is sort of pretty, and Matt hits on her big-time. She asks if he's doing it because he hates Robbie. He claims he isn't. "Could we go out just because I like you?" he wants to know. Cheryl is made nervous by the fact that Matt knows too much about her. "Do you think I might be hitting on you just because I know you've had sex?" Matt asks. Cheryl nods. How sad. Does that mean that Matt hits on half the women his age, or that Cheryl is the sluttiest woman in strangely chaste Glenoak? Does she wear a scarlet N for "Non-virgin," I wonder? Suddenly I've decided to start referring to StuporMom as Goody Annie. Meanwhile, Matt's just decided that he might be able to enjoy the rest of his life with Cheryl. Stalker Mode: ON. Cheryl busts out The Rules on him. She wants him to call ahead of time for dates, take her to respectable places, and then take her home without expecting so much as a goodnight kiss. There you go, Cheryl. That's the way. If you want men to respect you, you have to play hard-to-get. Finally, you're starting to understand family values. Soon you'll be married with seven kids of your own, at the rate you're going. Good girl. Leave your painted tart shell by the wayside, young vessel of Christian man.