Girls, Episode 9
And we’re back, baby
In spite of the generous deluge of excited messages that inundated my inbox last night, (see: “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Girls. Adam.” What?) I have not yet seen this week’s episode Girls. Cause of injury: SXSW. I know, I know as Mattie so intelligently posited: SXSW is basically a shorteralls convention. How is it even possible that they aren’t screening the show on every available reflective surface over here?
The good news is Mattie watched it and as such, the weekly viewer digest still exists and is below.
I kicked off this week’s digital rehashing of Girls with Leandra via text.
“I am in physical discomfort,” I wrote, as I watched this week’s episode. “My brow is furrowed!” I continued, hoping to illustrate my disquiet.
“LEANDRA,” I wrote some time later, resorting to caps lock when my partner in crime had not responded. “I have a lot of feelings, and I need to process them!”
But tragically, I was left to digest this week’s installment of Lena Dunham’s brainchild alone. And, guys, I think it may have given me food poisoning.
“On All Fours,” is the most deeply sad episode of Girls yet. Watching Marnie croon and Shoshanna “confess” and Hannah gradually, inevitably unravel is as painful as the most gruesome splinter extraction. So much so that even Charlie and his hairstyle-french-poodle hybrid are worried.
Sure. Winning The Biggest Loser on Girls isn’t much of an achievement. Alison Sweeney does not congratulate you, there is no final, triumphant weigh-in, and you do not look good in spandex. And yet competition is cutthroat.
Consider the contestants.
Hannah seems to have punctured an eardrum and considers her bloodied Q-tip a souvenir. Shoshanna is 21 and will only admit to hand holding. On that note, will someone please hold Marnie’s hand and guide her quietly out of Charlie’s life? I suspect she is eating him alive. Also, I would appreciate Kanye’s opinion on her little impromptu performance. Is there an emoji for second-hand embarrassment? My roommate and I would like to know.
And then there was Adam.
If there is a way to make “get on all fours” sound empowering, Adam certainly didn’t enunciate it. And I know we can attribute his behavior to about a million subtle determinants, but I still can’t excuse it. By the time the episode’s closing notes trilled, I was a nauseous, queasy mess. I stopped just short of taking a Tums.
Next Sunday, the second season of Girls comes to an end. And for the first time, I feel a pang of desperation. Is Marnie or Hannah or Jessa or Shosh any better off than when we reacquainted ourselves with them in the New Year? Have we made any progress at all?
And an additional question: do you know the agony of trying to #humblebrag but having it backfire? Because I do. My sincerest condolences, Hannah. I’m sure under different circumstances, Adam would have wanted to hear all about your book. Definitely.
P.S. Lena agrees. Pants are a construct.