Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Dr. Abe shakes roommate Court, looking for an ally to help fix the "situation in my bedroom." Court couldn't care less, because he's sleeping. While Court may be a bit of a troll, he's got the right attitude, and suggests that Abe simply tell her to get out. Choosing instead to employ some non-strategic passive aggressive tactics, Abe instructs Court, "Do not be nice to her, okay. Don't be mean, just don't do anything that encourages her to do anything but leave." Wuss.
Finally escaping from the doctors' homes, we happen upon Lyla and Neil breakfasting in a coffee shop, discussing which nanny to hire. Lyla favors Patricia, the girl from Mexico City with "the cute little scar." Exactly what goes into interviewing a nanny these days? Neil disagrees, saying that she was "extremely inappropriately dressed." Lyla didn't notice; she thought the girl was confident. Neil takes issue with "the tube top. Breasts and thighs." Lyla senses attraction, Neil maintains that Patricia was silly. This could all be resolved if we knew where to find that little scar. Lyla wants a sip of coffee, but Neil, in his role as protective husband/father, gently takes away the mug. Impressed with Patricia's decision "not to have kids like all of her friends by the time she was eighteen," Lyla reminds Neil that she was instead "dead-set on getting an education." Brains, contraception and a tube top! The universally-acknowledged perfect skill set for wannabe nannies! Body-conscious Lyla advises Neil to "get your head out of the girl's breasts," maintains that the dress code is completely cultural (pardon me?), and reaffirms her confidence in trusting her spawn to a young woman with the presence of mind not to become "a teenage baby factory." Meow. Again, she wants more coffee, he takes away the mug. Kind, patronizing Neil. You know, I like Martin Donovan as much as the next person, and he excels at playing milquetoast guys with hints of depth (no departure here, yet), but for the past several scenes he's been wearing the slightly surprised, slightly repulsed facial expression of someone who just smelled manure. What gives?
Oh, great. Back to Dr. Abe, in a session with his own therapist, discussing, I presume, his intimacy issues, since he seems to have no other qualities. Therapist tells him to "describe the feeling inside," Abe asks "Before or after?" and therapist tells him both. Inside what? That's what I'd like to know. Before, says honest Abe, is "deep, hot burning. It's some kind of brain hi-jack, control loss. It's pure caveman. I just want to bite and chew and consume." Very pretty. Then we move on to "the panic," which consists of "double-dates, 'honey, I'm home,' double-teamed answering machines," and blah blah blah babies and blah blah blah Wet Ones are the smell of death. Oh, don't get him wrong, Dr. Abe understands that kids are rewarding, but he "can't stomach the slow rot." As if undergoing a sudden epiphany, Abe says, "Mick Jagger was asked why he always slept with models. Because I can. Because I can." Dr. Abe is rapidly establishing himself as a complete idiot. And what's the big deal if he doesn't want to get hitched or have kids? Who cares? Work that Warren Beatty vibe for the rest of your life, buddy, just do us a favor and shut up about it.