As Dex packs up his minivan, his phone rings, and he answers, saying, "I was just thinking about you." Fuck. It's Lila. "I like the sound of that," she says. "I had to do some creative problem solving at someone else's expense." "Bravo!" "Yeah, I figured you'd like that." Lila tells him she just sold one of her "art" installations for a hefty sum, and she wants to celebrate. Dexter wonders if she's referring to the "cannibals," and she says that's not what they are. "How barbaric! Their eating is symbolic of the way we consume others to feed our needs." Kind of like...you? Anyway, Dex is down for some celebrating, and he says so as he watches Doakes load Wilson into the Police cruiser.
Down at some waterfront restaurant, Dexter and Lila arrive, dressed to the nines. The hostess tells them that she can't seat them without a reservation as the restaurant is filled to capacity. Dexter is about to say "fuck it," when Lila chimes in with some bullshit story about how this is the spot where Dexter proposed to her, and that it's their ten-year anniversary. She fidgets to quickly put her diamond ring on the right finger, and finishes her story by saying, "I looked down to find my diamond ring, sparkling under the water." But, the way she says it, with her irritating-ass accent, it sounds more like, "Spahkling unda tha wutah." Shut the fuck up, Lila. Man, the hatred is strong in me, today! Whatever, the hostess must be a fucking idiot, because she totally buys it and gets them a table.
As they wait for their food, Lila observes what a changed man Dexter is. "Well, changing." "I suppose." "There's no supposing about it, Dextah. You've taken control of your addiction in a way that few people do." Hey, speaking of addiction, wasn't she supposed to have been a meth addict? If that's the case, where are her rotting teeth? Her pockmarked skin? Her numerous scars from scratching the invisible bugs under her skin? Yeah, I don't know about it firsthand, but the internet's a remarkable thing, and if she's a former meth addict, I'll eat my fucking hat. I have a feeling her addiction is perhaps a more unsavory one, like our main man. Anyway, Lila continues to bring up the fact that they haven't even discussed Dex's recovery for a week. "I think you're right," he says. "And you haven't felt the need to use?" she asks. "Incredibly, no. I feel...you know, I'm finally in control of things again." "We call that warm, fuzzy feeling "The Pink Cloud." It's when an addict experiences acceptance for the first time." "You're saying it won't last?" "I'm saying you have to work it." She says she's sure he will, because "we've found a true substitute for your addiction." "What's that?" "Life." Oh, vomit. They share a long, bilious stare into each other's eyes, and kiss romantically. The manager comes out and brings them champagne on the house, for their anniversary. Lila makes a mock toast, and Dexter says, "Aren't we in recovery?" "This is just bubbles, we're not going to shoot it up, are we?" "You really have a way, you know that?" Dex observes. "A way of what?" "Getting whatever the hell you want." "Well, here's to ten more glorious years of whatever the hell I want." They clink. I puke my pants. Dude, I really can't explain how not okay I am with this pairing. I mean, I understand that now that Rita's not the delicate flower she once was, the writers need to reframe her relationship with Dexter, because her being "damaged" isn't going to cut it anymore. But really, I hope that Dexter comes to his senses and realizes what an insufferable hoser Lila is, because I'm getting to the point with her where I just want to, I don't know, set her on fire and put it out with an ice pick. Too far? Don't email me.