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Look, look, look!
I don't care!
Show me, show me!
Those hips, I'm freaking out.
I don't care, show Carlos.
7.5 out of 10.
- 5 out of 10. - What?
No more than 5.
Harsh.
- Liar! - She's just okay.
- Your wife is "okay"? - Lay off my wife.
Lay off.
Don't look or even think about her.
My cousin talked about his wife.
All hell broke loose.
The holidays were cancelled.
The kids were all alone.
- Excuse me! - What?
You're a girl.
Yeah, I guess.
We need someone neutral here.
Do you think she has nice hips,
not to mention ass?
No, don't...
- Okay. - Not wow.
Yeah, okay, but not wow.
You're jealous.
- What? - Jealous! No way!
Jealous.
She's anorexic.
Fucking queen.
You haven't seen my hips.
No, I haven't.
Ah, so you wanna see my ass.
If you insist.
And yours?
Seriously, I have a nice ass.
Just ask Carlos.
Carlos knows.
I have a racing ass.
A Formula 1.
Hey, beer guy!
Mister beer man!
What gives?
Ladies and gentlemen!
No need to be jealous with those hips.
Of your girlfriend?
Girlfriend? I ain't got one.
No wonder!
A girl's hassling me.
- It's true. - I'm irresistible.
- She sends him photos. - I'm a great catch.
I'm a romantic, I write poems.
"Let it snow, let it snow!"
It snowed alright.
I talk, unlike him. He never says anything.
He doesn't need to.
You asked for that!
Meaning what?
If you were cuter, you'd talk less.
You only noticed him 'cause I talk so much!
Bobby! Bobby!
I swear, if you need a mortgage I can help you out.
For real, I just need your number.
I've got my shit together, I'm beautiful.
Tessier is the best guy for mortgages!
And I've got my shit together!!
Love is in the air...
Just listen to these cries of joy
from the delirious crowd.
Because the new local favorite,
Montrealer Bobby Silva,
who was just crowned World Champion,
UFC Featherweight, in Las Vegas...
is helping promote this sport
which is replacing boxing...
Hey, it's Chantal!
It's Miss Chantal!
I love you, Chantal!
Come on, girls.
Fuck, you know what? We should all go to Cuba.
What the hell was that?
I love you, Chantal!
Hell of a fight!
You scared me.
It was a hell of a fight.
What was that video?
With that woman.
I was just kidding.
Are you drunk?
No.
- Isn't she in bed? - No.
Let her sleep here.
Let her sleep with us.
We shouldn't.
What now?
The fish are here
Into the river they shall jump
The fish are here
Into the river...
I love you, Chantal!
- Hey, I love you, Chantal! - It's me!
I love you, Chantal!
Refresh!
250,034 views.
What?
Trademark that shit.
Copyright it.
What for?
T-shirts, hats, towels, mugs... name it.
It's a goldmine!
My cousin can do it cheap.
His cousin's good.
He made a banner for my sister's wedding
with frills, colors.
I'll call him.
Call Marco.
Bribitch.
Cédric...
Brigitte.
"Chantal Tremblay assaulted live on TV."
Assaulted?
It was a hug, a joke!
We can't be associated with that.
- You won't be. - And the comments...
"Relax, you stupid bitch."
"Be happy, you're so ugly."
"No one would touch you with a ten-foot pole."
"Did you see her face?"
"You can tell she wants to get laid, slut."
"Nutcase, nympho, fat bitch. Must be a lesbian."
"It was a joke, fuck off."
"All whores anyway."
"LOL."
It doesn't reflect our values.
Nor mine!
It's your brother's article.
My brother's?
Thanks a bunch!
You touched a woman without her consent, on TV.
It's not my fault, I...
It's not?
Yes and no.
Nothing's ever your fault.
I'm about to lose my job.
I'm glad the company is rejecting your misogyny.
So you don't care if I get fired.
One in three women get sexually assaulted. 33% of women.
- That makes... - A third.
A third. Did you think about them?
About Sophie?
Sophie who?
Sophie, my ex.
What about her?
She was sexually assaulted by her grandpa.
Coffee?
Please.
Coffee?
No.
Thank you.
Do you really have to check out her tits?
What did Nadine say?
Nothing, it's bullshit.
- She should dump you. - So write an article.
You're still joking about it?
Should I kill myself?
Between those two extremes,
there's a pretty wide gap.
I have to see Tessier.
Tessier? Why?
Hello, my love!
Why Tessier?
What's Tessier got to do with it?
Shit, I forgot!
Don't move, I'll come get you.
Micheline?
We need to catch her out.
Before she suspends you, we file a complaint.
- A complaint?- Two.
Abuse and harassment.
Very mature.
Bribitch suspends her best engineer for nothing, that's mature?
Must you call her Bribitch?
She's a bitch.
Ignore him.
What?
Filing complaints is what we do.
I've got nothing against Bribitch.
Come on, guys!
Brigitte.
Filing an unjustified complaint won't help.
She'll suspend him!
He assaulted a woman live on TV.
Assaulted, come on.
Drop me off here.
Oh no... we're coming with you.
Where are you?
Sign now before they suspend you.
Don't. Own up to it.
Sign.
- Don't. - Sign!
You don't care about women.
He most certainly does! I'm living proof.
What I meant was... yeah.
Menstrual cycle length?
28 to 32 days.
Nadine's ovulation?
Excuse me?
You should know, given all your abortions.
His abortions?
- He's a man! - They're his too.
- Quanto? - Maybe three?
At least five: Annabelle, the French girl,
your boss's ex...
- Not even sure I'm the father! - Nadine, twice.
How does he know?
What's your point?
The point is...
that wearing a condom makes him so uncomfortable,
he'd rather traumatize women with an abortion.
No one asked me to wear a condom.
You must be boring if all she thinks about is condoms.
So contraception is a woman's responsibility?
And we wonder why women don't feel safe.
Excuse me?
Women feel unsafe in life.
All of them?
Well, in my experience, yes.
Well, I don't feel unsafe.
Lucky you.
It's Bribitch. Brigitte.
Sign!
Answer, answer, answer.
Sign, sign!
Answer!
OK, thanks.
Suspended indefinitely.
There you go!
- Léa Roberge? - That's me! Or rather her.
A three-day suspension, fine.
A week even.
But an indefinite suspension pending an investigation?
Meaning what?
- I don't know. - Three months?
Maybe more. A year?
A year?
- Apologize. - To Bribitch?
To Chantal Tremblay.
Write a letter to the newspaper.
- But why? - To apologize!
Is she in the car seat a lot?
No... Er... no.
Her neck is becoming cramped.
She needs to sleep in her bed.
I stopped breastfeeding her to sleep
but she won't sleep, it's hard.
It's a matter of habit.
She needs to sleep.
She'll learn to sleep in her bed.
But she won't sleep.
It's a matter of habit.
But she won't sleep.
It's a matter of habit.
But she won't sleep.
It's a matter of habit.
Yes... it's a matter of habit.
- What are you doing? - I'm going back to work.
Right now?
I'm on paid maternity leave,
so between paying me to do laundry or to work...
But you need to give them notice.
I wrote them last night.
How was your meeting?
I got the promotion.
No way, congrats!
Next week, I move upstairs, right next to the boss.
No more Caroline monologues.
OMG, she's such a pain! It's worse than being a hostage.
The other day she spoke so much,
we made a bet with Justine, who would stand it the longest.
Everything was about her baby.
Such an ugly baby...
Ugly, ugly, ugly.
Ms. Tremblay, please accept my most sincere apologies...
- Can you read in your head? - It was never my intention
to attack you personally or humiliate you.
I'm sorry.
Sincerely,
Cédric Roberge.
Is that it?
What's wrong?
Four words,
and two of those are "sincerely".
Well, I'm apologizing...
You need to show her you put some thought into it.
It's an apology, so I obviously had to think about it... it goes together.
Don't come to me if you don't want my help.
Coffee?
Thanks.
Show her you've been doing
some soul-searching.
- Coffee? - No, thanks.
What was the trigger?
At what point did you realize
your relationship with women was a problem?
When you were 16 or 20? Or maybe 3?
A trigger.
Trigger...?
Tell her something you never told anyone.
An endless task.
So? Five pages, ten pages... Write a book if you have to.
It's easy, I'll start you off...
Dear Chantal,
my actions towards you were so reprehensible
that simple apologies would be vulgar.
I will thus, if you'll allow it,
with all your humanity and kindness, Chantal,
tell you a little about myself,
about my soul-searching over the past few days
and the despicable, unforgivable realization...
despicable, unforgivable realization...
I don't know.
I think he's looking at us. Is he looking, is he?
I don't know, he's looking at us.
Is he looking at us?
I think he's looking at us. Is he looking?
Meaning I have always been...
a misogynist.
I love you, Chantal!
No!
An unwanted embrace.
This act perpetrated against journalist Chantal Tremblay
may result in serious consequences.
The individual, a 42-year-old engineer,
was immediately suspended by his employer
pending an internal investigation.
The incident has generated
thousands of hateful comments on social media.
Moreover,
a man from Montérégie has been arrested
for making death threats to the journalist.
Let it serve as an example,
to people sitting behind their computers
who think they can say whatever they like.
So we turn, yes...
we go around the world...
Yes!
The great circle of life...
to infinity... yes!
The fish are here
In the river they shall dance
Yes, yes, they shall sing!
They shall gather
To have a party...
And what will they do?
They shall jump! Yes!
Yes, they will jump!
Yes!
Let's jump, jump!
Come on!
Dance! Jump!
Again!
The fish are here
In the river for a party
What will they do together?
They will dance, they will sing!
Because it's a party....
Dear Chantal...
When I was little,
we were allowed to draw on the basement walls.
My mother encouraged us to be creative.
One day, I drew stick figures
with big boobs.
I liked looking at them,
I thought they were nice, it made me happy.
One morning, I went into the basement,
and my mom had drawn dresses
over my stick figures with big boobs.
She didn't say anything.
I didn't say anything. We never talked about it.
There was one dress, though, that she drew in a hurry.
The boobs were still visible underneath.
I felt like I had won.
Maybe that's where it all started.
I need help with the baby.
Cool!
Do you have any experience?
Well... I love babies.
- Because... - Okay...
Because...
They're so plump,
they have big cheeks, we give them big kisses...
- I think we've met before. - No.
Your seem familiar.
Because I look like Brigitte Bardot.
Well, yeah.
Brigitte Bardot disguised as a nanny.
Yes, exactly!
Oh, is that what you want?
If it is, I can do it.
Do what?
I could be Brigitte Bardot who comes to work for you as a nanny.
You want to come work as Brigitte Bardot?
Yes... but in a costume.
Good idea, no?
It's an idea... but no.
I'm looking for more of a fanny...
a nan... a normal nanny.
Okay.
- When do I start? - No, it won't work.
Her neck is cramped,
we'd better take her out.
No, she'll never go back to sleep!
I need mommy to punish me.
Oh, I'm a bad baby.
A bad, bad, baby.
Mommy's gonna punish you.
You want mommy to punish you?
Yes!
What are you working on?
I'm writing a book.
Writing is good.
It's therapeutic.
What's it about?
My letter of apology to Chantal Tremblay.
"I love you Chantal", that was you?
Yeah.
You're famous!
You know, that was funny.
No, it's not, you're a woman.
Someone might do it to you too.
That's fine, I like surprises.
Surprises... not sexist surprises.
Why sexist?
Never mind. Too complicated.
So would it be sexist if I kissed you on the cheek for fun?
No, because I'm not scared of you.
Well, I'm not scared of you.
But... I'm stronger than you.
Now that's sexist.
I mean physically.
Sexist!
I'm in a position of authority, I hired you.
Sexist Story! The title of your book.
Shit!
Hello?
Hi. Everything OK?
Are you at the music workshop?
Yes... I'm on my way.
Hello!
- A book? - Like you told me.
I never said that.
You told me to write a book if I had to. I'm inspired!
- How many pages? - Maybe ten so far.
- Ten pages? - Sexist Story: ten letters to Chantal.
It's like a diary. Dear Chantal, blah, blah, blah.
Here, read a bit, just to see if it's legit.
Coffee?
I'd love some, Micheline.
I don't get it, we never discussed hiring anyone, I'm surprised.
You're bound to be.
So he just hired you? Does he know you?
He saw my ad.
Where is he?
Writing, at the café.
Writing?
Writing what?
His book!
What?
Cédric, writing a book? No way.
Well, yeah.
You can go, I can manage.
- What about your foot? - It's fine.
You screamed super loud, I think it's broken.
No, I don't think so.
Can you walk?
Yes.
Then walk on it.
Wait, let me help you.
I'm good at crisis management.
There is no crisis.
You didn't go to the office?
You don't smell like an office.
Your hair...
Your neck...
You'd smell of office if you'd been at work.
Are you hiding?
Hello.
Did everything go...?
Hi!
My wife's a psychopath.
Pretending to go to work but sleeping in a motel.
Hiding at home. Like a psychopath...
Leaving the baby with a stranger is psycho.
I did it for us.
For us or to write your novel?
It isn't a novel.
- Hope it's a masterpiece. - Mind your tone.
What tone?
The psychopath tone!
She's sleeping.
Dammit, there's always something in this goddamn house!
Hello!
- Incredible! - Yeah?
Maybe. I've never wrote a book before.
All that stuff about never confronting your excess libido,
all the avoidance around it,
as if male libido was an inevitability, and how it...
That must've hurt.
Society made me a misogynist.
Absolutely! That intro about your mom drawing dresses on your naked women...
And never mentioning it!
A taboo is bound to trigger the desire to challenge.
That's the root of it!
Plus Mom was hardly conservative...
Precisely!
You're a misogynist because of your mom?
You're misogynous because your mother drew dresses on naked women?
Put like that, it sounds dumb but...
So what's your theory?
She's right.
You're right... It makes no sense to blame misogyny on women.
It's misogynistic.
It's not easy.
If even I can be inadvertently misogynous,
it must be very fucking deeply rooted.
But you wrote some good stuff.
You think so?
How about this?
I'll write it with you.
Really?
Together, we'll cover more ground. The intellectual and the jock.
- I'm not bragging but... - No.
It'll sell more: TV, radio shows, book fairs...
Book fairs?
Cocktail parties...
Book fairs!
I know people. Showbiz!
Why write a letter to Chantal Tremblay?
This is bigger than just Chantal Tremblay,
it's a socio-historical problem.
Can we still call it Sexist Story?
Sexist Story: A letter of apology to Chantal Tremblay...
- to our mothers... - Yes!
to our sisters, our daughters...
Secretaries, mistresses, cousins...
She's right.
You're right, it's all wrong, it's the "our".
Absolutely.
Too pompous!
Not easy.
Pretend I'm not here!
Hey, I'm ticklish!
Honestly! Who's that?
Amy, the babysitter.
He'd drunk a lot.
He wanted to be sensible but the girls were buying us beers...
To get him drunk!
Without the alcohol and the girls, Cédric never would have done it.
It's not true.
I've often been disrespectful to women. Alcohol isn't the problem.
The problem is, I treat women as extras in the acting out of our...
of my virility.
Acting out?
Yes!
Anyway, I behaved badly
but I'm working on myself to make sure it never happens again.
I'm writing a book.
It's called Sexist Story.
I want to reflect the Quebec Engineering values.
The Quebec Engineering values?
Yes.
Let's talk about that.
What are you doing?
Are these...
the Quebec Engineering values?
What are you doing?
Piece of shit.
- Tessier? - Wait!
Okay, we got it.
Just a second, sir.
The male slot... Male obviously goes into female...
Here we go.
Finally!
Are these the company's values?
What is that?
Alcohol.
Bikini.
Frivolous young men.
Cubans, Brazilians,
Uruguayans...
You name it.
Are those the Quebec Engineering values?
Is that Bribitch?
Brigitte, yes.
Hot for her age!
But that's not the point.
My point is:
how can the CEO of a company as prestigious
as Quebec Engineering expose herself in such a vulgar
and, pardon the expression, sexual way?
How are we alpha males
meant to react when Brigitte
shows up at a Christmas party
and squeezes us in a corner
with her little piña colada...
What do I tell Léa when she grows up?
In 10 years, when she goes to school
and she's the daughter of the "I love you, Chantal" guy?
I doubt anyone will remember in 10 years.
Really?
Only we're publishing a book.
Publishing a book, yeah.
I think I need to write Léa a letter.
What?
In the book.
Do you need to involve Léa?
Frankly, I think it's important.
It's not a good idea.
Fine, I won't do it.
But she's your daughter too...
Okay, thanks!
Sexist Story: 200 letters of apology.
That's good.
You're writing to girls you know?
Mostly famous women actually.
Like who?
Beyoncé...
Kim Kardashian...
Monica Bellucci...
- Patricia Kaas... - All singers and actresses?
Yeah, you're right...
All superhot girls too. Sorry.
It's not our fault if society showcases hot girls.
Is it?
What?
Well, we're not going to write to...
Pauline Marois.
Why apologize to a woman who was Prime Minister?
Who someone tried to kill.
Yes, absolutely.
What are you doing?
I'm writing.
But Cédric isn't here.
I know.
So why are you here?
The project is based on Cédric.
I want to...
get close to him, understand his... environment.
Am I bothering you?
No.
Nice day.
Well, I'd better...
do some laundry.
Yeah.
Do you live here?
No... I...
I don't like shouting...
No, I'm Cédric's brother.
But you're always here.
Yeah, because we're working together.
I write with him and since he's kind of the inspiration for the project...
As a journalist, I need to be close to my subject.
Okay.
He's my brother, I know him pretty well.
Very well even...
But...
at the same time, he's changing and...
It's touching.
You're a sensitive guy.
Yeah.
- That's beautiful. - Thanks.
Your brother's lucky to have you. I don't have a family.
Really?
None.
No brothers or sisters?
No.
- And your parents? - Dead.
That sucks. I mean, it's awful.
At the same time, I can do whatever I like
without disappointing anyone.
That's a great way to look at it.
At the same time, I don't know who you could disappoint...
with your sensibilities.
I connect with people really fast.
Even passing acquaintances.
- How old are you? - 22.
Impressive. You're really...
pretty mature.
- Thanks. - What are you doing?
Skin-to-skin. You put the baby on your skin.
Oh, I know about that, I have a daughter.
- Cute! - Yeah, she's 7. But I'm divorced.
I thought it was for newborns.
- Right up to six months old. - Ah, I see.
- Sorry, I'm embarrassing you. - Not at all.
Keep your shirt open.
- Sure? - I'm sure.
Ah, she fell asleep!
That's life!
Maybe you could write me too.
What?
A letter of apology.
Yes, of course.
Anything in particular you want me to apologize for?
No.
But I'd love to have my name in a book.
That's when I realized, I should write a letter too!
To Chantal Tremblay. It's like...
our letters will meet at the end of the book, it'll be wild!
Also... I realized...
Fuck, what was it? I had a good idea.
Yes, that's it! We need to sign our letters.
So your letters are yours and mine are... mine!
Hello, ma'am.
Hello.
Gentlemen.
- Amy, what are you wearing? - My uniform.
It looks more like a costume.
Oh no! It's a uniform costume.
So it's a uniform.
But it looks more like a costume, like...
Like... a costume for sex.
Maybe in the minds of certain people.
But I'd say that, objectively,
it's a maid's uniform.
Like with schoolgirls,
their uniforms aren't for sex.
Although they're exactly like schoolgirl uniforms for sex.
But you're not a maid.
But if you'd seen the babysitter costume I found,
frankly you'd have been super uncomfortable.
I'm not uncomfortable.
Duty calls.
It really does look like a sex outfit.
I wanted a uniform. It motivates me.
I once worked in an Irish pub: the Lucky Shamrock.
We had a T-shirt that said Lucky Shamrock Pub.
It immediately put me in a Shamrock mood.
Okay.
I did some LARPing too, at the Duchy of Bicolline.
The what?
It's a medieval village, popular in summer.
You wear medieval costumes, drink from tankards...
It's awesome.
I can imagine.
I don't always feel like being me, it gets depressing.
You should try it.
I can't breathe.
Wait, wait.
Easy now.
Think about a place you love...
A place that makes you feel good.
I don't feel good anywhere.
Maybe a forest.
I think that's even worse.
Anywhere, just picture yourself somewhere.
Close your eyes.
Where are you?
At the supermarket.
Perfect.
You're at the supermarket. In which aisle?
Dairy.
Perfect.
Cheese.
You're buying cheese.
You're doing your groceries.
You have friends coming over.
I have friends.
You're going to drink some wine.
You're going to go to bed late.
The nanny is there.
You're not alone.
You're free.
I'm free.
I'll take care of you.
W as in warm, W as in wild,
W as in wonderful, W...
Hey!
One thing we mustn't forget to talk about... Formula 1.
Oh, yeah!
What are you wearing?
Nothing. An accessory.
What is it?
I'm not sure. A cape? A royal cape?
Where is it from?
Nowhere.
- Did Amy...? - I'll wear what I like!
Of course.
Amy?
Ma'am?
Is it okay?
Do I look too...?
Not at all.
It's perfect.
You're perfect.
The strange thing about misogyny, Chantal,
is that it isn't entirely clear...
what constitutes misogyny and what doesn't.
For example, if my wife exasperates me,
am I a misogynist?
I do not think so.
But how can I be sure?
All this striving to make sense of things
and I seem to feel even angrier than I did before.
Before, when I made misogynistic jokes.
Albeit inadvertently in a joyful and friendly way
and in a spirit conducive to good man-woman relations,
despite said jokes.
What can I tell you, Chantal?
I feel like I'm not myself anymore.
I am...
lost.
Ma'am?
More tea, please.
Perfect.
What the hell?
No, it's not for you.
I'm trying to write and all I hear is bells!
Yes, ma'am?
- With sugar. - Of course.
Are you for real?
Her idea. The cape and bell make me feel better.
So now you have a slave.
A slave? We pay her.
To take care of Léa.
She's fine doing extras.
She's a nanny, not a stripper.
She finds the term "babysitter" more gratifying.
Thank you.
I know it's a tad weird.
A tad?
But I feel much better, you should be pleased.
Ma'am.
The answer is yes.
A big yes!
Yes.
I told you so.
A controversial but necessary book.
Exactly. I can already see the promo.
You'll be everywhere.
You should expect...
It's gonna be huge.
Oh yeah?
It's crazy.
When I saw you on the news, I thought:
that guy's face is made for TV.
Me? For real?
Star material.
That's what I thought.
Well, well, that guy really has great presence.
Thanks.
With a face like yours, girls will go wild over this book.
I smell a bestseller.
Yeah, but wait. Guys need to buy it too.
The point of the book is to tackle male misogyny.
Yeah, to inspire guys like me. Like I was before.
Yeah... we want that.
But frankly, it's girls who buy books.
Especially with Cédric in the spotlight.
Yeah, but that's not the idea.
On Thursday, we launch the new Stéphane Pépin book.
I mean, is anyone manlier than Pépin?
No.
So... come along.
Come, and you'll see.
You'll see who buys books.
Hello!
Not answering your phone?
We just signed with a publisher.
A publisher?
Crazy!
Yeah, it is, since you're not a writer.
Anyway, the investigation is done! They issued a warning.
They reckon you're able to be respectful of others,
as long as you quit making out with everyone! Cool, eh?
Yeah.
Hello! You can resume work!
- Maybe not. - What do you mean?
- I have a book to write. - We have a book to write!
A sure-fire hit.
A bestseller.
I might even be on TV.
Really?
She's asleep!
Anything else?
No, thanks, Amy, you may go.
Ma'am.
- Fuck, it's Marie-Madeleine! - Who?
Bicolline!
- Fuck! - You went to Bicolline?
For Carlos's birthday. We got wasted!
And?
She was a medieval hooker. 25 crowns' worth.
How much is that?
- Guess. - No idea.
A crown is medieval currency, it isn't worth shit.
- You slept with her? - No.
Say so if you did, we have a deal.
- What deal? - A deal?
Cédric is allowed to pay for sex.
We mentioned it once!
My libido is shot since the baby.
Nothing happened!
You mean, like, escorts?
- Anything. - But I didn't!
- Escorts? - Yes, escorts!
- Escorts? - Rather strippers.
It's disgusting!
Yeah, not your scene!
I'm a reporter! I've been to strip clubs!
For my work, not because my girlfriend is out of commission!
And you agreed to it?
Any other guy would go: Honey...
I can handle a period of... abstinence...
with you.
But your sexual demands
on your girlfriend make her despair and seek replacements for herself!
- No despair here. - But I'm innocent!
What's the problem?
Sexual exploitation, that's the problem.
It was her idea!
What?
You can't write a book with me. I'm sorry.
I'll write it alone, you're a lost cause.
It's my story!
They signed me up, not you.
Did you have to?
Did I screw up?
Jeez, Louise...
- Nadine, are you ready? - Ten minutes!
We'll be late.
We'll be late!
Two minutes!
- Ready? - I'll put her to bed.
Okay.
Amy...
I know this is weird but you have to trust me.
Why are you here?
- It's no good for you here. - I love it here.
I know you need money but I can help you out.
I could even hire you as a PA. We'll find a way.
Cédric and Nadine seem nice but they're morally confused.
We all are.
I know about Bicolline.
You know...
Ah, about my LARPing?
That you prostituted yourself...
for crowns.
- That's fine. - It's a game.
Cutting family ties, Bicolline, the nanny costume...
Most girls with sex issues...
I don't have sex issues.
...were abused as children. Obviously some bastard did that to you.
You don't need to do that just to be loved.
No, I just want to love people.
I was powerless to help one of my exes,
and I don't want it to happen again.
Understand? Say you understand.
I insist you let me help you.
There's nothing you can do.
No, I will help you.
Yes?
Yes.
Could we go to a restaurant?
Whatever you want.
I want to be taken out, to be cared for, looked after...
I'll be there for you, I promise.
I can see you want to help me, not just fuck me.
- No fucking. - At the same time,
how can we resist this burning love?
I can feel it, you can heal me.
Your dick can heal me, and I'll come...
At last! For the very first time!
- No, that's not it. - It isn't?
Too bad, it was turning me on.
What?
It's a pretty sexy game.
I was abused, we screw, you heal me, and it works.
What game?
Well, this, what we're doing.
Isn't that what you wanted?
A bit of make-believe to help you deal with that stuff about your ex?
I can't tell whether or not you're joking.
You were serious?
No... no.
It was a game.
Amy, we're leaving!
Okay, great!
Then save me.
He's smart, he's an adventurer.
He's an adventurer!
He's handsome.
He's so smart.
So smart.
He's an adventurer.
Otherwise there's no end to it.
You know, you should publish your memoirs.
Seriously, have you thought about it? Never?
- No. - Have you had any offers?
Hello.
- Everyone has a memoir, and you... - Hello!
Hello.
I'm Jean-Michel's brother.
Okay.
Snappy dresser!
I mean, the hardest,
most loving work, on ourselves...
No one's gonna believe in us like we do.
At the same time, you need to be...
It's hard to explain...
I feel so stupid.
What made me think I could write a book?
Fucking idiot!
I thought I could write a book. Me, Cédric.
You were right.
I can't write a book.
Come on.
What?
It's nice here.
The light. Do you like it?
It's so beautiful, don't you think?
It's beautiful!
So beautiful, so nice...
What are you doing?
What... what the hell is that?
My strap-on.
A dildo?
What the hell's it for?
Nothing, it's therapeutic.
- Therapeutic? - What?
What, what? Where did you plan on putting it?
Maybe you think your sexual liberation turns me on
but I don't want to play!
Tell Chantal,
I bet she cares about your libido and male identity issues,
yearning to guide you to a more complex relationship with women.
Because that's all we fucking dream about!
I want to disappear...
Fucking piece of crap!
Wait, ma'am, let me help you.
Do you still need me?
No, I don't think so.
Very well.
It was your brother who was your initial inspiration.
Chantal Tremblay accepted his public apology.
So why did you opt to keep the letter of apology format?
All girls deserve an apology.
The format of the book seemed self-evident.
Without wishing to boast, it pretty much wrote itself.
It just came out...
But more importantly, I was driven by a real urgency to express all this.
Some feminists have criticized you for appropriating a battle
that wasn't yours.
Frankly, I disagree.
The problem with misogyny isn't women,
it's men.
What I say is, if girls go to the spa, we guys will talk.
You'll pay for the spa?
In your case yes!
How about reading an excerpt?
Absolutely.
Dear Amy Smith...
This could have been a love letter like the ones I know you really need.
I decided against writing you words of love.
It was more urgent for you to understand
that what you need most of all is to be saved.
I need to protect you from yourself and your desperation to please.
You are vulnerable, Amy.
Let me come to you...
and I shall guide you, step by step, along the path to freedom.
Er, what?
Jean-Michel, are you okay?
Jean-Michel?
Are you okay?
Yes.
Are you going to carry on?
Once my sacrificed love
has quelled the coming storm
and you are, Amy,
finally free from the shackles of womanhood,
maybe then there will be an us.
Maybe.
Finally.
So how about a commercial break?
Hello!