In a pew, Father "Drank His" Phil tells Carmela that he doesn't want to posit religion "as a cure-all," but he thinks greater involvement in the church might "expedite things" in Tony's therapy. Dream on, Father Phil. Carmela says that what kills her "is that it's a self-inflicted wound -- I pushed for it. I could deal with the goomahs, I knew I was better than them." She says that she viewed the girlfriends as "a form of masturbation for" Tony, since she couldn't give him "what he needed all the time." Oh, that's a healthy attitude. Not. Father Phil looks unnerved, but Carmela isn't finished: "You're a man, Father -- you know that thirst." Father Phil closes his eyes in pain as she adds, "I was too busy with the house and the kids to quench it." Carmela feels different about the thing with the psychiatrist, though: "For the first time, I feel like he's really cheating and I'm the one who's thirsty." Vi. Bra. Tor. Hello. "I'm not gonna stay in marriage where --" Father Phil shushes her, then reassures her that "divorce is for the weak" blah blah blah "we reap what we sow" blah blah blah "what do you mean?" blah blah blah she accepted his past infidelities blah blah blah those didn't count blah blah blah they "lightened the workload" and Carmela "practically welcomed it" blah blah blah martyr-cakes. Carmela bows her head; Father Phil tells her to pray to the Holy Mother for guidance so that she and Tony "can get through this as a couple." Carmela pouts because Father Phil doesn't feel sorry enough for her, but Father Phil is on a roll: "You're not without sin in this, Carmela." Thank you, Father Phil.
Tony tells Melfi that Carmela's spending has gotten "out of control." "Yeah, but you noticed her, which may have been the point," Melfi points out. Tony glances at the clock. Melfi notices him do it and says that before they run out of time, she'd like to discuss what happened during their last session. Tony looks uncomfortable for a moment, then smiles smarmily and asks, "How's your car?" Melfi asks coldly, "Did you steal my car and have it fixed?" More smarmy smiling. "We had an agreement, no gifts." "I didn't wanna see you get robbed," Tony smarms. "It was you," Melfi says. Tony leers some more, expecting her to fall all over him with thanks, but she snaps, "You had no right to steal my car. I've been scared to death." "Why?" he asks softly. "Why? It's a violation of my privacy! What else have you done?"
Tony takes a breath as if to answer, then changes his mind and keeps fixing her with The Look. "Answer me," Melfi tells him sternly. "I love you," says Tony puppyishly. "Anthony," she cautions him, but he says, "I'm in love with you. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is." "Okay," Melfi splutters, "let me talk," but Tony won't: "Nope, it's not the Prozac. I dream aboutcha, I think aboutcha all the time, I can't get excited about any other women…there's nothing else to say. I love you." Melfi looks like she might throw up, but she soldiers on, saying that she knows he might have trouble accepting it, "but you're only feeling this way because we've made such progress." "What?" Tony says gruffly. "I've been gentle, that's my job. I listen, that's what I do best. I've been a broad, generic, sympathetic woman to you because that's what this work calls for." She pauses, then tells him, "You've made me all of the things you feel are missing in your wife…and in your mother." Tony, who looks like he might cry, makes a face: "You're makin' me out to be some fuckin' mama's boy. I'm a man. And you're a woman. Enda story." Tony goes on to say that this has nothing to do with any Freudian complex, but Melfi says she didn't say that: "I want to make sure we understand each other." Tony, hurt: "Yeah, we understand each other. You don't love me." He gets up to leave, but turns at the door to grunt, "You don't want me to come back anymore, fine." "It's quite the opposite," Melfi says quickly. "This is all a by-product of progress," and then, in the same breath, "Has someone been following me?" Tony glares at her, and she waves her hand at him Livia-style: "Okay, forget it. I'll see you next week."