Cut to the Porndogs waving enthusiastically as Lynette and Tom take their leave. As the Scavos beat their retreat, Tom says to Lynette, under his breath, "I'm thinking no more play dates." Lynette: "Not a one."
Bree shows up at George's house, and though she thinks that they're going to a movie, George has different plans: "My mother had a couple of friends who really wanted to meet you, and I thought, what the heck, could be fun! Do you mind?" And while clearly Bree does mind, she agrees. George swings open the door, and there's a huge crowd of people standing there, clapping. There's also one empty folding chair in the middle of the room: a hot, hot seat for Bree to sit in, maybe? Bree looks mighty chagrined, but she waves gamely and joins the party like the trouper she is.
Cut to Bree and George, sipping champagne and standing around in one of those weird "hacky sack" conversation circles, along with George's horrible mother, a random aunt, and Stan, George's mother's tax man. Stan compliments George on what a "knockout" Bree is, and says he owes George an apology. George explains to Bree that because George was single for so many years, Stan had always told George's mother that her son was gay: "I'm still going to need some proof...I guess I'll be getting that in about nine months, eh, Bree?" Ugh. Do people really say stuff like that anymore? They do in Fairview, I guess. Bree, for some reason, is confused by this comment, and George explains that it's just Stan's "little joke" about when they're going to start a family. He adds, "Just so you know Stan, it's going to be a while before we even think about kids. I want Bree all to myself for awhile." Yuck, yuck, yuckmouth! Somewhere around here, you can see that Bree's discomfort starts shifting to anger. George's mom: "Well, you don't want to wait too long; after forty, the eggs don't get any fresher. Am I right, Bree?" Classy! Bree laughs falsely and then excuses herself and walks right on out the door. If only she'd keep on walking!
But sadly, George runs after her, and asks her where she's going. Bree, without stopping, informs him, "I'm taking my champagne and my aging eggs and I'm going home!" George asks what's wrong, and Bree turns and confesses to him that she's beginning to think they may have rushed into things. Wow, this thought is only just now occurring to her? Bree: "And I'm not the only person to think that; other people have said the same thing." George: "What other people? Andrew?" Bree: "No! Dr. Goldfine, my therapist." George grumpily says that Bree's therapist doesn't know George. Bree: "Well, he knows me! Certainly better than you do!" George is galled by this comment, but Bree informs him that at least Dr. Goldfine knows that she doesn't want any more children. George, somewhat taken aback, says, "Really. Oh. I didn't know that." And yet, as Bree points out, that's the exact kind of thing that two people engaged to be married should know about each other. Bree turns to leave, and George lurches after her, insisting that he doesn't need children. Bree: "It's not just that, George. Dr. Goldfine has other concerns about us being together, and I'm starting to think he's right." As the "uh oh, Dr. Goldfine, watch your ass!" music swells, George tells Bree that he agrees with Dr. Goldfine about one thing -- that they should slow down: "Just because two people are engaged doesn't mean they have to get married any time soon." Bree sighs and tells George that she'll talk it over with Dr. Goldfine the next day. George encourages her to take whatever time she needs, and she hands him her empty champagne glass, gets in her car, and drives off, leaving a very pensive-looking George in her wake.