But it's poor old Mary, on her way out to pasture, who will have to grapple with the existential nature of Cher's lyrics in a limo ride off the grounds of the Eugene O'Neill Theater Institute. Horribly cliché south-of-the-border music Mary could dance around a hat to kicks up, and she reflexively goes for her cell phone, only to discover that that's not what is making the Mexican novelty song play for once. She hugs the other two girls goodbye and retires outside with Eugene, where the two sit down on The Bench Of Buh-Bye. He tells her that in real life he wouldn't even have a damn chance of meeting someone like her, and whispers that he thinks she'd be compromising by being with him. Did he just pull an "it's not you, it's me"? Nevertheless, Mary buys it (I've bought it), and tells him that if either of the two girls loves him half as much as she does, then it's love. Awww, poor Mary. She cries and cries, but she's pretty classy, still. "All I did was fall in love with you, and there's nothing wrong with that." Oy. That's genuinely sad. They hug goodbye one more time and she's in the limo out of town. At least her kids won't have his genes. Or his, um, Eugenes. See, now I don't even know what I'm talking about.
"I thought he was it," Mary flatly monotones. Then her throat squeaks and she starts to cry again, and she tells us that she can't be mad because Eugene's following his heart. Away from making a commitment to someone he's going to ask to marry him. Inside, Eugene toasts the two remaining women, glad that they're at least free of this terrifying "Bob" figure about whom they keep reading these evil little recaps all over the web.