In their bedroom, whilst preparing for bed, Patty and Graham have a little scrap. She says that dancing wasn't so bad. Graham says she doesn't know what he's thinking, since she assumes he thought it was terrible. She complains about the "shows your ears more" hair review. He complains about the pressure to compliment her, and to lead. She advances her theory that working together is wrecking their marriage. For some reason (plot contrivance, no doubt), she's gesticulating with her porcelain Cinderella figure. Voice breaking, she wonders how it's possible that they're such terrible dancers. Graham says that it's because they've been together so long. I don't get it either. Oh, wait -- I do. It's that whole dancing-as-sex thing again. Patty throws her hands up in frustration, in the process smashing Cinderella against the floor. Ooh -- symbolic. She distressedly picks up the pieces of her shattered dreams...uh, I mean, "figurine." Graham kneels down and puts his arms around her, whispering, "Dance with me." She sniffles, "We don't know how." He murmurs, "We know how." See? The metaphor. I took English. I know what I'm talking about. They kiss. See?

Brian comes back in the house as Rickie and Rayanne are shrugging on their coats. In the kitchen, Angela's just finished washing the dishes, and I'm wishing she lived in my neighbourhood. Brian and Angela stare at each other. She puts on her coat and says, "I'm not going to take the extra credit." He nods and says, "Whatever." She smiles. He hands her the ID and says, "You forgot this." She walks out. Brian leans. But not as well as Jordan.

A post-coital Graham and Patty talk about their "generation" and why they "dance so far apart" and "rebellion" and I will spare you. She snuggles contentedly in his arms. He looks guilty.

Downstairs, Angela comes in the back door and goes straight for the fridge. She takes a Tupperware container out and studies her ID, until she hears footfalls on the stairs and, at the sight of Graham, tosses it on the counter. He tells her that dancing is harder than it sounds. He gets something that looks suspiciously like Sunny D out of the fridge and Angela, not unkindly, says, "Dad, I don't feel like talking. No offense." Graham replies, "I don't feel like talking. Certainly not to you." Tupperware in hand, she starts to make for her room, until he offers to heat up the spaghetti for her, and she turns back and hands it over.

In the dining room, they eat, and AVO admits, "I have to say, when my father heats something up, it tastes better than when anyone else does." Graham asks her how her experiment with Brian went. Angela says he did most of it. Graham asks if it was "like, a date," and Angela snorts, "Dad! It's...they're not...people just hang out. They're not -- it's not dates. There's people. Together. In a bunch." They smile at each other. Graham looks pleased, and asks if there was anyone else there she liked. Angela studies him, and AVO notes, "It's so strange how parents can, out of nowhere, turn psychic. It's unnerving." Graham says, "It's okay to like someone. But, I mean, boys your age can sometimes --" "Dad, I know," Angela says, then asks, "'Can sometimes' what?" Graham says, "Can sometimes not know how to be what you want them to be. My point is that it's really...hard to figure out how to be a man. Practically every man I know is still working on it." Angela stares at him, but the quiet moment of communion is broken by the appearance of Patty, who fondly snots, "So that's what we're doing -- we're eating." Angela starts at the haircut, and Patty smooths it, asking, "It really shows my ears more, huh?" Graham smirks. Angela is speechless. Patty tells them to go to bed; Graham offers to clean up. Angela books. Graham wipes his mouth. I wonder if it's to prepare it for some lying?