Émission TV: In Treatment - 1x16
Previously on "In Treatment"...
I hear you, paul.
You want to kick me out of therapy.
I get it.
No, I don't want to kick you out, absolutely not.
I think that you tossed me out a long time ago.
You don't want me to treat you as a psychologist.
You want me to treat you as somebody who's in love with you.
Let's face it.
I have not been your therapist for a very long time, Laura.
Maybe you can't treat me because you're in love with me too?
Where you headed?
You need a ride?
Laura.
Let's do it.
Paul?
Paul?
Season 1 - Episode 16 Laura week four Synchro by : �AkaZab�, Kasius LAURA - Londay 9:00 am Sorry.
You said that it.
That it happened in the kitchen?
No, it started in the kitchen.
Are you listening to me?
Yes, yes, I am.
I said I wanted to do it right there on the counter.
So when he picked me up, I thought, "okay," but no, he took me into the bedroom and he.
Put me down ever so gently like I was, I don't know, a porcelain vase or something.
Everything was very cautious, hesitant.
Like he didn't know what to do.
Maybe he didn't know what to do with someone who wasn't his wife.
Yeah, he kept telling me he hasn't done it with anyone but his wife for 10 years, and hardly then.
It was very sweet, actually.
He imitated me.
He did everything I did.
I took off his shirt, he took off my shirt.
I told him he has a fantastic body, because he does, and he goes, "so do you."
At one point, he strokes my hair and he asks me what kind of shampoo I use.
Can you believe this?
We're lying there, face to face, petting each other like high school kids.
Anyway, I get sick of it, so I say to myself, "maybe he's waiting for a signal."
You know, maybe he wants me to lead.
Maybe if I start doing something, you know, things will finally get moving.
So I went down on him.
Everything was so proper.
I didn't want proper.
I just wanted him to fuck, without all the bullshit about my shampoo and my beautiful breasts and my excellent taste in curtains.
So did that move things along?
What?
The blowjob?
Of course.
But you know what?
He doesn't like sex.
You know what I mean?
He doesn't really like it.
It's like he's carrying out an assignment, a mission, like a pilot.
What do you mean, like a pilot?
You know those air force guys that mark tally points on the wings of their fighter jet to keep track of how many planes they've shot down?
It was like that, like he was keeping score.
I mean, he didn't even touch me while he was going at it.
He was just, you know, leaning on his elbows as if he didn't want any connection between us...
Except where necessary.
And I kept trying to bring my face closer to his to kiss him and he just...
Kept pulling his face away...
As if he couldn't stand me.
And that was it.
It was very fast.
Two minutes, more or less, and then he came.
And then he went straight the bathroom and I just laid there in shock.
I mean, he didn't even ask me how it was, if I was okay or not.
Nothing.
Anyway, I made myself come.
While he was in the bathroom?
No, when he got back.
I had to.
I mean, I hate to be left high and dry.
He was just lying conducting dialogue, the ceiling or maybe with his wife, or maybe with you, and he looked so fucking sexy.
So I.
I climbed on top of his leg.
I thought he'd get the hint and he'd start something.
But nothing.
So I just kept going...
Riding his thigh.
It felt good.
And then I was overwhelmed with this sadness for him.
He broke my heart, this guy.
He's fragile, really.
That's what he is.
I don't think he could tell what I was thinking.
I was completely in my own head, and I was thinking to myself, "shit, this is gonna be the saddest orgasm of my life."
Here I am riding this hot, sad guy's thigh.
I was expecting something pitiful and measly, right?
But no.
A volcano is a cliche, but that's what it was.
It was like 10 orgasms exploding at once.
It's hard to describe.
But I screamed-- I did, I screamed and I think I scared him.
You would have been really proud of me.
Why would I have been proud?
I mean, as my therapist.
You know, that I finally...
Connected with myself.
Doesn't happen very often.
I'm sorry.
That was a bit revealing.
But you must be used to it.
You know, hearing confessions like that, it probably doesn't impress you anymore.
Actually, it makes a very big impression.
Really?
What sort of impression?
Well...
You can look at it in all kinds of ways, but one thing seems perfectly plain to me: you slept with my patient.
Excuse me?
He isn't your only patient.
He doesn't belong to you.
He's a great guy, okay?
A little fucked up, a little insecure in bed, maybe, but he's got potential.
I think I'm gonna have a terrific affair with him.
Nevertheless, it's no coincidence that you went to bed with him and I don't think it's any coincidence that you began your affair with him shortly after we talked about your quitting therapy.
Are you saying that I did this to get back at you?
Remember the guy you told me about.
The guy that you met at the bar, that you went to the restroom with?
You said that you felt you were with me.
It's not the same thing, Paul.
Are you sure it isn't?
It was during that session, Laura, that you decided to tell me that you were in love with me.
And that's how you chose to tell me how you felt about me.
By having sex with another man.
Paul, if there's one thing that I put right out there, without hinting or manipulation, is that I've wanted you.
So I don't need to fuck another man just to get my message across.
What made you so...
Sad about Alex?
His loneliness.
He's a sad guy.
Did you feel sad?
No, I felt horny.
So sadness for him but no sadness for yourself.
What are you trying to get at here?
Maybe you did feel sadness...
Because you were with a man you didn't really want to be with.
Are you saying that when I was fucking Alex, I was actually fucking you?
Were?
Don't flatter yourself.
It's not really a compliment, Laura.
I think it seems more like, "look what you missed out on, Paul.
You coward, you idiot."
I'm tired.
I'm really so tired.
So, after Alex left, I couldn't fall asleep.
I suddenly had this incredible craving for cheesecake.
Cheesecake.
You know those amazingly fluffy cheesecakes with that amazing smell?
Well, my mother used to bake those.
Every friday afternoon, afternoon, after I finished playing with my friends, I used to come home and that smell.
It was intoxicating.
It was like a trail of scent paving my way home, like a cartoon character.
Then my mother got sick.
The cancer was only stage one at that point when they found it.
But when she started chemo, she stopped baking.
You know, she was tired.
She, she had no energy.
And that was the first sign.
The first sign that something really big was about to happen.
And when she was really sick, I used to find myself roaming the halls of the apartment building, climbing up and down the stairs, searching for that smell of cheesecake.
Shit, how corny is that?
And once I rember a woman coming out of her apartment and she, thank you.
And she saw me standing out there.
She didn't know who I was.
She must have been new to the building.
And she was yelling at me, "Go away, go on, go home.
What are you doing, standing out here, just..."
Why do you think you had that...
particular memory the other night?
I don't know.
I searched...
through my whole apartment looking for a recipe but...
Not that that would have done any good.
My fridge is completely empty.
I thought about going out to get a piece, but it was 3:00 a.m., so I just gave up and went to sleep.
Only then the phone rang and it was Alex, he called to...
thank me, tell me that he had an amazing time with me and that he wants to see me again.
Go figure, huh?
He's supposed to pick me up from here pretty soon.
From here?
Yeah, that's what he said.
Aren't you afraid that Andrew will find out about this?
Or, maybe you want to get caught.
Andrew and I split up.
What?
For good.
And it is for good.
He's a nice guy.
He'll make a nice husband for someone who deserves him.
But obviously not for you?
I nearly fuck guys in bathroom stalls, as you very kindly reminded me.
I just couldn't stand up there in front of everyone, promise to...
Well, I just shouldn't ever make promises.
I promise not to make any more promises.
How's that?
So I told him that... "
I'm sorry, but I can't marry you. "
I am incapable of being the woman you want, the kind of woman you deserve."
I put it all on me.
Well, 'cause it is all me.
And he looked at me and he said: "Thank you, Laura. "
Thank you. "
God exists.
It's a fact. "
He's made me realize who and what you are, "and He's saved me from a long, endless death with you."
Flattering, no?
He must be devastated.
Maybe he feels...
I don't care how he feels.
You don't care...
Not now, I don't feel like talking about Andrew's side of the story.
Why does that make you so upset?
Because I'm the one in therapy here.
Andrew has his own therapist.
She'll take care of him.
Don't worry about him, worry about me.
I am taking care of you.
You're kicking me out of therapy.
I am not.
I brought it up as an option.
Don't sugarcoat it.
You even tried to blame it on me.
You made up the most ridiculous case as to why I was late.
It was nasty, a bullshit excuse.
Instead of leveling with me and saying: "Listen, "I've feelings for you too, it's hard for me to deal with."
Instead of figuring it out so we could continue therapy, so we could...
We could be together, that's your point?
We've been together for a year.
A year.
There is more intimacy between us than most couples in the world.
Isn't that right?
I don't deny that there's a certain intimacy, that can... "
A certain intimacy...
Intimacy-like..."
Cut the crap.
Is there intimacy here or not?
There is.
And now you're willing to throw that all away.
And why?
Because you're scared?
I know that as a therapist, you tell yourself it's part of therapy to find out why I'm in love with you and how that's linked to my past and all that.
But isn't that always the way it works?
Doesn't our past always determine who we fall in love with?
What if you can trace it back to the withholding mother, the narcissistic father, the parent who's missing in action.
Does that make our love any less real?
But sometimes circumstances are, let's say, less than ideal.
I know that.
I know you can delude yourself into think...
Only I am not deluded.
Not about you, not about how I feel about you, why I feel it.
There's always got to be an explanation, but that I feel it is irrefutable.
I don't know how to convince you anymore.
I mean, you think that I've imagined this fairy tale, this...
happily-ever-after.
That I've idealized you.
You think this is a case of a miserable patient sitting in front of her...
her therapist imaging that you're my superman...
Perfect, savior, mentor.
I don't see you that way at all.
How do you really see me?
I see you the way you are...
Your imperfections.
You're not at ease with your body, with your profession, with who you've become.
I don't know much about your life, but I...
I imagine you're not happy at home.
Something in you is restless, damaged.
There's a yearning there, and I know it when I see it.
And I want you just the way you are...
Damaged and restless, yearning...
Warts and all.
So you can fix me?
God, you can be such a fucking prick when you wannabe.
So that I can fix you then?
You know, next month I'll be 30.
And I've been thinking to myself... "
I've hated myself for 30 years. "
It's enough.
I don't want to anymore."
Why do you hate yourself?
You're surprised?
I've never heard you say it before.
I guess you save the best for last.
That's the best?
That you hate yourself?
I don't know.
You're surprised?
It's something people realize after an hour.
I didn't know it after an hour.
Neither after a year.
It's not easy for me to hear you say that.
Maybe you should try and find out why it's so hard for you.
Maybe you should see someone.
I've been thinking about that.
Seriously, I think the reason it's hard for me to hear it is because I know that you have so many reasons to...
to love yourself, so many things to be...
To be really proud of, yet you choose to ignore them.
Why?
Haven't you ever hated yourself?
I guess I did...
Once.
I was a kid.
You know?
My mother...
she was in pretty bad shape and...
I took care of her, but...
I couldn't...
I couldn't save her...
From herself, you know?
I guess I hated myself for that.
Was she sick?
She was in a difficult emotional state.
I thought that I could pull her out of it.
I used to cook her all these, you know, elaborate meals.
But she wouldn't eat them.
Couldn't understand why.
Like every kid, I thought it was my fault.
It was something that I wasn't doing.
Maybe I could do something else.
But you know that's not true.
I know that now, yes.
Have you forgiven yourself?
I think so.
Took a long time.
How does that feel?
I mean really.
I'm curious.
It feels like a relief to tell you the truth, to know that that burden is gone...
The burden of blame.
And to know deep down that...
it never belonged there in the first place.
Maybe that's why you became a psychologist...
To help others with their burdens.
Maybe.
So you're a product of your past too.
Will that be cash or check?
Can I owe you that?
Sure.
Anyway, I know where you live.
Yes, you do.
I should get going.
Alex is waiting for me.
I forgot, I haven't paid you.
That's okay.
It'll do next week.
Thanks.
You're welcome.
I hear you, paul.
You want to kick me out of therapy.
I get it.
No, I don't want to kick you out, absolutely not.
I think that you tossed me out a long time ago.
You don't want me to treat you as a psychologist.
You want me to treat you as somebody who's in love with you.
Let's face it.
I have not been your therapist for a very long time, Laura.
Maybe you can't treat me because you're in love with me too?
Where you headed?
You need a ride?
Laura.
Let's do it.
Paul?
Paul?
Season 1 - Episode 16 Laura week four Synchro by : �AkaZab�, Kasius LAURA - Londay 9:00 am Sorry.
You said that it.
That it happened in the kitchen?
No, it started in the kitchen.
Are you listening to me?
Yes, yes, I am.
I said I wanted to do it right there on the counter.
So when he picked me up, I thought, "okay," but no, he took me into the bedroom and he.
Put me down ever so gently like I was, I don't know, a porcelain vase or something.
Everything was very cautious, hesitant.
Like he didn't know what to do.
Maybe he didn't know what to do with someone who wasn't his wife.
Yeah, he kept telling me he hasn't done it with anyone but his wife for 10 years, and hardly then.
It was very sweet, actually.
He imitated me.
He did everything I did.
I took off his shirt, he took off my shirt.
I told him he has a fantastic body, because he does, and he goes, "so do you."
At one point, he strokes my hair and he asks me what kind of shampoo I use.
Can you believe this?
We're lying there, face to face, petting each other like high school kids.
Anyway, I get sick of it, so I say to myself, "maybe he's waiting for a signal."
You know, maybe he wants me to lead.
Maybe if I start doing something, you know, things will finally get moving.
So I went down on him.
Everything was so proper.
I didn't want proper.
I just wanted him to fuck, without all the bullshit about my shampoo and my beautiful breasts and my excellent taste in curtains.
So did that move things along?
What?
The blowjob?
Of course.
But you know what?
He doesn't like sex.
You know what I mean?
He doesn't really like it.
It's like he's carrying out an assignment, a mission, like a pilot.
What do you mean, like a pilot?
You know those air force guys that mark tally points on the wings of their fighter jet to keep track of how many planes they've shot down?
It was like that, like he was keeping score.
I mean, he didn't even touch me while he was going at it.
He was just, you know, leaning on his elbows as if he didn't want any connection between us...
Except where necessary.
And I kept trying to bring my face closer to his to kiss him and he just...
Kept pulling his face away...
As if he couldn't stand me.
And that was it.
It was very fast.
Two minutes, more or less, and then he came.
And then he went straight the bathroom and I just laid there in shock.
I mean, he didn't even ask me how it was, if I was okay or not.
Nothing.
Anyway, I made myself come.
While he was in the bathroom?
No, when he got back.
I had to.
I mean, I hate to be left high and dry.
He was just lying conducting dialogue, the ceiling or maybe with his wife, or maybe with you, and he looked so fucking sexy.
So I.
I climbed on top of his leg.
I thought he'd get the hint and he'd start something.
But nothing.
So I just kept going...
Riding his thigh.
It felt good.
And then I was overwhelmed with this sadness for him.
He broke my heart, this guy.
He's fragile, really.
That's what he is.
I don't think he could tell what I was thinking.
I was completely in my own head, and I was thinking to myself, "shit, this is gonna be the saddest orgasm of my life."
Here I am riding this hot, sad guy's thigh.
I was expecting something pitiful and measly, right?
But no.
A volcano is a cliche, but that's what it was.
It was like 10 orgasms exploding at once.
It's hard to describe.
But I screamed-- I did, I screamed and I think I scared him.
You would have been really proud of me.
Why would I have been proud?
I mean, as my therapist.
You know, that I finally...
Connected with myself.
Doesn't happen very often.
I'm sorry.
That was a bit revealing.
But you must be used to it.
You know, hearing confessions like that, it probably doesn't impress you anymore.
Actually, it makes a very big impression.
Really?
What sort of impression?
Well...
You can look at it in all kinds of ways, but one thing seems perfectly plain to me: you slept with my patient.
Excuse me?
He isn't your only patient.
He doesn't belong to you.
He's a great guy, okay?
A little fucked up, a little insecure in bed, maybe, but he's got potential.
I think I'm gonna have a terrific affair with him.
Nevertheless, it's no coincidence that you went to bed with him and I don't think it's any coincidence that you began your affair with him shortly after we talked about your quitting therapy.
Are you saying that I did this to get back at you?
Remember the guy you told me about.
The guy that you met at the bar, that you went to the restroom with?
You said that you felt you were with me.
It's not the same thing, Paul.
Are you sure it isn't?
It was during that session, Laura, that you decided to tell me that you were in love with me.
And that's how you chose to tell me how you felt about me.
By having sex with another man.
Paul, if there's one thing that I put right out there, without hinting or manipulation, is that I've wanted you.
So I don't need to fuck another man just to get my message across.
What made you so...
Sad about Alex?
His loneliness.
He's a sad guy.
Did you feel sad?
No, I felt horny.
So sadness for him but no sadness for yourself.
What are you trying to get at here?
Maybe you did feel sadness...
Because you were with a man you didn't really want to be with.
Are you saying that when I was fucking Alex, I was actually fucking you?
Were?
Don't flatter yourself.
It's not really a compliment, Laura.
I think it seems more like, "look what you missed out on, Paul.
You coward, you idiot."
I'm tired.
I'm really so tired.
So, after Alex left, I couldn't fall asleep.
I suddenly had this incredible craving for cheesecake.
Cheesecake.
You know those amazingly fluffy cheesecakes with that amazing smell?
Well, my mother used to bake those.
Every friday afternoon, afternoon, after I finished playing with my friends, I used to come home and that smell.
It was intoxicating.
It was like a trail of scent paving my way home, like a cartoon character.
Then my mother got sick.
The cancer was only stage one at that point when they found it.
But when she started chemo, she stopped baking.
You know, she was tired.
She, she had no energy.
And that was the first sign.
The first sign that something really big was about to happen.
And when she was really sick, I used to find myself roaming the halls of the apartment building, climbing up and down the stairs, searching for that smell of cheesecake.
Shit, how corny is that?
And once I rember a woman coming out of her apartment and she, thank you.
And she saw me standing out there.
She didn't know who I was.
She must have been new to the building.
And she was yelling at me, "Go away, go on, go home.
What are you doing, standing out here, just..."
Why do you think you had that...
particular memory the other night?
I don't know.
I searched...
through my whole apartment looking for a recipe but...
Not that that would have done any good.
My fridge is completely empty.
I thought about going out to get a piece, but it was 3:00 a.m., so I just gave up and went to sleep.
Only then the phone rang and it was Alex, he called to...
thank me, tell me that he had an amazing time with me and that he wants to see me again.
Go figure, huh?
He's supposed to pick me up from here pretty soon.
From here?
Yeah, that's what he said.
Aren't you afraid that Andrew will find out about this?
Or, maybe you want to get caught.
Andrew and I split up.
What?
For good.
And it is for good.
He's a nice guy.
He'll make a nice husband for someone who deserves him.
But obviously not for you?
I nearly fuck guys in bathroom stalls, as you very kindly reminded me.
I just couldn't stand up there in front of everyone, promise to...
Well, I just shouldn't ever make promises.
I promise not to make any more promises.
How's that?
So I told him that... "
I'm sorry, but I can't marry you. "
I am incapable of being the woman you want, the kind of woman you deserve."
I put it all on me.
Well, 'cause it is all me.
And he looked at me and he said: "Thank you, Laura. "
Thank you. "
God exists.
It's a fact. "
He's made me realize who and what you are, "and He's saved me from a long, endless death with you."
Flattering, no?
He must be devastated.
Maybe he feels...
I don't care how he feels.
You don't care...
Not now, I don't feel like talking about Andrew's side of the story.
Why does that make you so upset?
Because I'm the one in therapy here.
Andrew has his own therapist.
She'll take care of him.
Don't worry about him, worry about me.
I am taking care of you.
You're kicking me out of therapy.
I am not.
I brought it up as an option.
Don't sugarcoat it.
You even tried to blame it on me.
You made up the most ridiculous case as to why I was late.
It was nasty, a bullshit excuse.
Instead of leveling with me and saying: "Listen, "I've feelings for you too, it's hard for me to deal with."
Instead of figuring it out so we could continue therapy, so we could...
We could be together, that's your point?
We've been together for a year.
A year.
There is more intimacy between us than most couples in the world.
Isn't that right?
I don't deny that there's a certain intimacy, that can... "
A certain intimacy...
Intimacy-like..."
Cut the crap.
Is there intimacy here or not?
There is.
And now you're willing to throw that all away.
And why?
Because you're scared?
I know that as a therapist, you tell yourself it's part of therapy to find out why I'm in love with you and how that's linked to my past and all that.
But isn't that always the way it works?
Doesn't our past always determine who we fall in love with?
What if you can trace it back to the withholding mother, the narcissistic father, the parent who's missing in action.
Does that make our love any less real?
But sometimes circumstances are, let's say, less than ideal.
I know that.
I know you can delude yourself into think...
Only I am not deluded.
Not about you, not about how I feel about you, why I feel it.
There's always got to be an explanation, but that I feel it is irrefutable.
I don't know how to convince you anymore.
I mean, you think that I've imagined this fairy tale, this...
happily-ever-after.
That I've idealized you.
You think this is a case of a miserable patient sitting in front of her...
her therapist imaging that you're my superman...
Perfect, savior, mentor.
I don't see you that way at all.
How do you really see me?
I see you the way you are...
Your imperfections.
You're not at ease with your body, with your profession, with who you've become.
I don't know much about your life, but I...
I imagine you're not happy at home.
Something in you is restless, damaged.
There's a yearning there, and I know it when I see it.
And I want you just the way you are...
Damaged and restless, yearning...
Warts and all.
So you can fix me?
God, you can be such a fucking prick when you wannabe.
So that I can fix you then?
You know, next month I'll be 30.
And I've been thinking to myself... "
I've hated myself for 30 years. "
It's enough.
I don't want to anymore."
Why do you hate yourself?
You're surprised?
I've never heard you say it before.
I guess you save the best for last.
That's the best?
That you hate yourself?
I don't know.
You're surprised?
It's something people realize after an hour.
I didn't know it after an hour.
Neither after a year.
It's not easy for me to hear you say that.
Maybe you should try and find out why it's so hard for you.
Maybe you should see someone.
I've been thinking about that.
Seriously, I think the reason it's hard for me to hear it is because I know that you have so many reasons to...
to love yourself, so many things to be...
To be really proud of, yet you choose to ignore them.
Why?
Haven't you ever hated yourself?
I guess I did...
Once.
I was a kid.
You know?
My mother...
she was in pretty bad shape and...
I took care of her, but...
I couldn't...
I couldn't save her...
From herself, you know?
I guess I hated myself for that.
Was she sick?
She was in a difficult emotional state.
I thought that I could pull her out of it.
I used to cook her all these, you know, elaborate meals.
But she wouldn't eat them.
Couldn't understand why.
Like every kid, I thought it was my fault.
It was something that I wasn't doing.
Maybe I could do something else.
But you know that's not true.
I know that now, yes.
Have you forgiven yourself?
I think so.
Took a long time.
How does that feel?
I mean really.
I'm curious.
It feels like a relief to tell you the truth, to know that that burden is gone...
The burden of blame.
And to know deep down that...
it never belonged there in the first place.
Maybe that's why you became a psychologist...
To help others with their burdens.
Maybe.
So you're a product of your past too.
Will that be cash or check?
Can I owe you that?
Sure.
Anyway, I know where you live.
Yes, you do.
I should get going.
Alex is waiting for me.
I forgot, I haven't paid you.
That's okay.
It'll do next week.
Thanks.
You're welcome.