Oh, my loves, is it possible we’ve been dragging this “did they, didn’t they?” Apollo-and-Kenya thing out for a whole year? It feels like twenty years. Like twenty years of ambiguous fighting that accomplishes nothing and just makes you feel like you’re wearing a shirt made of anxiety.
Cranky Kandi meets Kenya at a gym made of scarves. Kenya apparently needs a workout for stress release, but since this is one of those circus-type places, the only thing she can do is grab some silk and throw her legs up in the air, squashing her bread loaf of a butt toward the windows for all the world to see while she screamed “IT’S SO NATURAL! I’m no stranger to having my legs up in the air!” Hmmm, I don’t think I get where she’s going with this. Does she mean she works out a lot? She’s an aerialist? Did she buy one of those bars you strap across your door that lets you lock your ankles into ski boots to do chin-ups? Ooooh, she means sex! I wish she were more obvious about it.
Kandi gives zero shits about working out, so she says her ankle hurts and they sit outside on the curb to talk. Kandi is on a diet and admittedly cranky, so she launches into her side of the “I can’t believe you maybe flirted with Apollo via text” saga. Kenya is sick of being accused, too, so she just goes right for her phone and whips out the texts. If these are the messages of two people who are supposed to be having illicit sex, I’m having my vagina sewn shut so it doesn’t die of boredom. The intensely robotic exchanges hinted at nothing more sexual than someone paying their water bill. To wit:
Hey. How. Are. You. Doing?
I’m. Good. How. Are. You?
This is so boring my reproductive system just went into permanent hibernation, glazed over with a thick hoar frost. If these two had sex, it’s obvious why they don’t want to talk about it — I guarantee their pubic hair turned gray immediately afterward. Kandi scowled at the phone while Kenya said she was sick of defending herself, and they both sat there, full of stress with nothing accomplished.
Porsha went to visit her therapist, Iyanla Vanzant, and wonders if she should keep acting like a robot and ignoring her emotions. Considering she just spent the past few years in a loveless marriage, I’m going to guess the answer is no. Porsha really is a terrible combination of immaturity and thick-headedness, and every time I start to feel bad for her she says something like, “Jewish people are made of blueberries; I read it in a book,” and I’m out. She admitted that she had put up a front, and was pissed when the ladies in the crew called Kordell out for being controlling because they were right. Iyanla Vanzant told Porsha she probably thought of Kordell as more of a father figure, which I guess happens but is always weird to me, and Porsha tearfully asked, “Why did he marry me, then?” Iyanla Vanzant pulled all of her face muscles together and said, “No, the question is why did you marry him?” Porsha, unable to hide from real talk, sat there with her mouth open and drooled on her own shoulder. She finally admitted she needs to get him out of her system, but Iyanla Vanzant was like, hold up — are you still wearing your wedding ring? And then she scooted her out of the office with a broom like Sandman Simms.
NeNe went to visit Cynthia, and it was a darling scene. It felt like NeNe was back in rare form, joking and just hanging out. She called out Cynthia for putting her “eyebrows on,” and then reminisced about how Cynthia’s fibroids used to cause her to bleed everywhere. Kandi called to join the fibroid party, too, and plan some kind of pick-me-up lunch for Porsha. NeNe barely concealed her contempt — did anyone else pick up on that? — but agreed to go. Cynthia’s sleeping pill kicked in, and NeNe went to Neiman’s to “kick in her credit card.”
Kandi and Phaedra met for fro-yo and to talk about Kenya, and the only productive things that came out of that meeting were hearing Phaedra say, “My schedule right now is babies, dead people, and my study group,” and reveal that Kenya “has very whorish tendencies.” She said something about Apollo switching hotels and not wanting scrambled eggs when she’s the one paying the mortgages, but I just assumed she was powering through a stroke. Phaedra does not have time for aneurysms.
Cynthia plugs up the Mighty Fibroid River for a minute and has a meeting with two men threatening to break out idea boards. Thankfully, her daughter, Noelle, comes in for some comic relief. This kid looks EXACTLY like her dad, Leon, and immediately tried to get Cynthia’s credit card for summer books. Cynthia was skeptical, but Noelle said, “If I was going to hustle you it wouldn’t be for books.” In the rankings of Atlanta housewives’ children, Noelle just went to No. 1 with a bullet. She’s way funnier and more entertaining than her mom — can we just swap them out? Cynthia goes on to embarrass her with talk about her boyfriend, Arthur, and when pressed to talk about whether or not they’ve kissed, Cynthia insists it was “just on the cheek” and Noelle says, “If that’s what you want to think.” I look forward to accepting Noelle as our personal savior.
Everyone gathers at the restaurant to support Porsha, which means giving her space to ramp up to a full-scale rant about the horrors of her marriage, saying she felt like “the oldest child in the house” instead of a wife. Apparently Kordell controlled the money, only giving her a little bit at a time or none at all, and he wouldn’t let Porsha’s sister or friends come over. She felt like her world was getting smaller (because it was), and all she had in her life were trips on a private jet and living with a man who looks like a thumb. NeNe shook her head and said, “This is when it’s really good, though – when you can put yourself in your own jet and throw him the peace sign.” Everyone high-fived, jumped on the table and lip-synched to Destiny’s Child “Independent Women,” and fought over who got to be Beyoncé.
NeNe visits Kenya in her “ghetto” hotel room for ten seconds and screams, “Where you live, bitch!?” This scene was the funniest thing I’ve seen on this show in ages, and I howled when NeNe freaked out about Kenya’s dog jumping up to greet her. She said she had a “helicopter on the roof to take them out of this camp,” and Kenya talked about the Nigerian man she’s in love with on their way to meet NeNe’s real-estate agent, who calls himself Bonneau and looks like a pile of sweaty gym towels. I can’t with him or his made-up Daughters of the Revolution name. Kenya balked at an apartment that was less than 5,000 square feet while Bonneau hovered over her asking, “What can I do to sell you this house?” Bitch, you can BACK OFF and give me a minute, for starters! Kenya didn’t buy anything, because she doesn’t have a job, and I can’t believe for a minute we’re pretending she could ever afford a $1.65 million apartment.
Lastly, Textgate isn’t over, as we discover when Phaedra and Apollo meet for lunch. Apollo started out by saying they haven’t met for a while without distractions. Oh, distractions, like the two children you barely help take care of? Sit down, Apollo. The most incredible thing happened during this scene, you guys. Every single time the conversation ramped up, the harried server came over and interrupted them at the most crucial moments, like the lunch was choreographed by Paula Abdul.
Phaedra got a subpoena about Kenya and her landlord, and used that as a springboard to talk to Apollo about what really happened between him and Kenya. It’s always so uncomfortable to watch them fight; I secretly have always thought Phaedra was too good for him, but she clearly loves him very much. Apollo, however, acts like a baby-man, suspended in a state of weird immaturity and clearly resenting that his lifestyle is so dependent on his wife. Phaedra says, “Don’t text my friends, ever,” and Apollo, a grown-ass man, actually said, “You’re not my mama!” I would have drafted divorce papers on a cocktail napkin right then and there, but Phaedra persisted, telling him that was inappropriate behavior. He laughs at her, even though she’s clearly upset, and says yes, Kenya wanted to sleep with him and even came up to his room, so he changed hotels. Phaedra casually says, “Oh, I heard she offered to suck your ding-a-ling,” and Apollo completely shut down. They fought, got interrupted, fought, and got interrupted until Apollo said, “If I wanted to smash her, if I wanted to have sex with her, I could have,” and Phaedra told him she was two seconds away from cutting out his tongue and stabbing him with a steak knife very nonchalantly, like she was auditioning to be the next Hannibal. She smirked, and all Apollo could say was, “That’s some psychological bullshit.”
What do you think — did Apollo put it to Kenya? Would you care if he did?
Next week, Porsha finally realizes she’s single, Apollo and Phaedra keep fighting, and Mama Joyce comes back with the spirit of Jesse Jackson running through her. I’ll see you then!