Lying back on two chaise longues that Melissa Manchester never wrote a song about, Jesse's inner monologue tells us that he's concerned about Jessica's non-him-intensive law-school career. But deep down I'll bet he's really all for "women's lib" and all of the pre-post-feminist connotations that expression implies. He lovingly dotes, "Your mom made it very clear that she wants you to continue studying. Like, if we were to stay together, I would definitely want you to continue doing that." Wow. How thoughtful of him to allow a woman he barely knows continue her push toward higher education, PROVIDED that it occurs on his schedule, in his city, and doesn't actually happen. "Actually," Jessica bomb-drops, "I've already sent away for applications to schools up north." Jesse smiles broadly and is markedly unconcerned that both he and the show promos have been vastly misinterpreting who is and who is not the "stalker," by the way. He fact-checks, "Because of all this?" She dignifies the most rhetorical question since "Are you fucking kidding me?" with a response nonetheless, proving her love by the power of pointless, scattershot, idolizing sacrifice: "I'm not going on all these exotic dates. I'm sitting in L.A. This week." In a confessional that takes place in the La La La I'm Not Listening To You Dimension, Jesse crawls into a confessional booth and makes some errors in memory: "When Jessica told me she sent in all these applications to New York City law schools...I wasn't expecting that at all." That's not what she said at all. She tells us that she doesn't want to live her life being guarded. Sidebar from the edge of the grave: twenty-one years old is not a time to be making pronouncements of any kind that contain the phrase, "You can't live your whole life...." Thanks for the pedantic second-person perspective, Teach.
Outdoor shower. Clingy jams. Too much touching. Way too much touching.
An outdoor eatery waits for Jesse and Jessica near a sign advertising, "Kamalame Cay." I thought it was the name of the eating establishment. In point of fact, it is the name of the entire island. The cheapest hotel room in the cheapest corner of the hotel on the cheapest day of the year -- Typhoon Thursday, I believe it's called on the Bahamian calendar -- is $510.00 per night. Pardon me while I figure out how many governmental programs could be saved if the operating budget of one season of this show were reallocated to something noble. Eh. Forget it. It would probably all go straight to the war anyway.