Mary "missed [Bob]. A bunch." Gross and weird. "On Sunday afternoons," she tells him, "I've gotta watch football." Can you stop being a Coors Light commercial fantasy and start being a human being in one minute? How about right now?
"When you go out there, I just want you to be prepared," Karin says ambiguously. "I'm fine," Lee-Ann responds in a way that means "I'm drunk." "I'm always fine. Do you ever see me crying?" She's so tired of talking about "Bob, every day of the week." It's true. It's so, SO true.
Outside. Guarded. Lee-Ann's snippy, but tells Bob she's okay. He keeps pushing her to tell him what's going on. "Are you still glad to be here?" he asks. The hole has been punched: "Sure," she says. Bob's not convinced and I am transcendently thrilled. Lee-Ann admits, "No. I'm not having a great time." She's "not used to, like, waiting for a rose, and [she] should be quivering...oh, please." She rants that there are "ten girls here and one of" Bob, which also seems like something she should have known. She doesn't like that she has to spend all her time being miserable except when she's with Bob, and this is somehow his fault. Inside the house, the girls whisper that Lee-Ann's putting him on the defensive. Outside, Lee-Ann says she's just trying to explain herself, and Bob submits, "I guess I never thought about..." "No!" she interrupts. "I don't think you do." Lee-Ann, dude, chill. He could have been on his way to saying, "I guess I never thought about how long it's been since I replaced my Brita filter in longer than the allotted three-month time frame," but you wouldn't know that because he hasn't gotten the leisure of a word in edgewise just yet. Not that I can so much stand the sound of his voice anymore, but I'm just saying that it's equal time for people who equally make me want to peel my skin off, layer by agonizing layer. Bob suggests that they take a walk before they go back in the house, and she pins him up against a tree and starts wailing that she has "never been the source of controversy." Cry cry cry. She has no idea where she stands. "If I'm not one of the last girls standing, send me home," she tells him. Bob tells us he has no idea what he's going to do, and as we retreat into the house, she asks him, "Do I look like a weeping bitch?" Yeah, sort of. Throw a shadow of it up against the wall and we'll tell you how close you got.
"I do take every moment I have with you seriously, and..." Ding ding ding. Oh, hi Chris. Weeks, it's been. WEEKS.