Allie is coming over for dinner with her director/boyfriend and I'm checking him out. This is the point. Andy thinks the point is to make a nice dinner; he is Martha Stewart with his sauteed mushrooms and green-olive sauce.

"I thought we were ordering pizza," I say from the kitchen doorway.

"I felt like cooking," he says, absorbed in his breading.

Rodrigo. Saying his name is torture -- I can't roll my R's. Apparently, Allie called earlier to find out what to bring, and Andy said vegetables, and she brought a Hubbard squash the size of a football. "It needs to be cooked," she says. We both look at Andy; he takes the squash. Allie gives Rodrigo a look like, "Learn something from this."

At dinner Rodrigo says he's an aspiring director; he writes films. "About what?" I ask, being congenial because I promised, but thinking Ugh, she might as well be with an actor.

He says he's making romantic comedies. I pause, thinking he's making a joke. "Oh," I say, "How does this affect your soul?"

Allie spills water across the whole table.

Andy cleans up the water.

Rodrigo tells me the family in his romantic comedy is Italian and he's Italian-American.

I say, "Oh."