Chapter 13 of 25 · 2'05"
Kate and Yule admit they know nothing about each other, then do exactly what Yule dreads: a rapid-fire getting-to-know-you. "I just despise the getting-to-know-you part of relationships," he says, so they "get it over and done with." The joke is the mismatch: his family money and famous exes versus her ordinary, sincere life.
❝ Monologue · 6 lines Kate and Yule Trade Life Facts on a Date
On a date, Kate realizes she and Yule know nothing about each other. Yule says he hates the getting-to-know-you stage, so they agree to just get it over with. He lists his absurd background—three master's degrees, two ex-president lovers, two Monets—while she offers a modest, tender one: a geography-teacher father, a mother who cut hair at home, a lost dog, a signed Star Wars poster.
The scene looks like a quirky dating montage, but it's really about two people who cannot connect. Yule says he despises "the getting-to-know-you part of relationships," and rather than learn about Kate, he treats intimacy as a chore to "get it over and done with." His facts are all about status and distance—money, degrees, ex-presidents—while hers are about ordinary love and loss. When Kate can't remember crying that much ever, over a dead dog, it's the first genuine feeling on the table, and Yule barely reacts. The comedy hides the point: a man who can list two Monets but not one thing he actually feels. Kate keeps trying to be real; he keeps performing.
A1–C2 is the CEFR scale. Cards above the level you pick fade, and playback will not auto-pause on them.
“I've just realized, we don't really know anything about each other. Do we?”
She names the awkward gap out loud, then softens it with a tag question.
Neutral
“Okay, let's just get it over and done with.”
She turns a romantic ritual into a chore to be finished, which is funny and blunt.
Informal
“So I come from grotesque money, but I got away from it by getting three masters degrees.”
She skewers her own wealth with one word, then name-drops her degrees as escape.
Informal
“Uh, I have slept with two former presidents.”
It tops her own list with deadpan delivery, as if it were another résumé line.
Informal
“I can't remember crying that much ever.”
The plainest sentence about a dog's death lands harder than any dramatic grief.
Neutral
“Where are we gonna go for dinner tonight?”
The most ordinary line closes an awkward confession and drags the date back to normal.
Informal
My grandfather invented the flash-freezing process. So I come from grotesque money, but I got away from it by getting three masters degrees. Uh, I've been divorced twice. Uh, one was a Secretary of State, and the other one was a sport fisherman. Uh, I have slept with two former presidents. I speak four languages, and I own two Monets.
Up next · 14go for launchThe scene: Kate Gives the Launch OrderHe treats intimacy as a hassle; rather than slowly open up, he prefers to dump facts and move on, which is why he wants to get the whole ritual over with.
Yule lists status symbols—wealth, degrees, ex-presidents, Monets—while Kate lists ordinary family and emotional memories, underlining how differently the two relate to people.
The scene hints no: they can share facts but not connect, and the dinner-question ending shows them slipping back into small talk instead of real intimacy.
It's an informal way of saying absurdly large wealth—his family is so rich that grotesque, meaning excessive and ugly, fits comically.
It's the one moment Kate shows real sadness; she is open and emotional, which contrasts sharply with Yule's detached list of achievements.
