Props to the millions of bacteria that have flooded my sinuses and swollen my head in an homage to James Van Der Beek.
Previously on DC: a blonde girl -- what's her name again? "Jane," "Joan," something like that? -- suggested to Tobey that, if he Likes Jack That Way, he become friends with Jack; Mr. Brooks and Grams both lectured Dawson on gathering love's rosebuds while ye may, and Dawson flared his nostrils judgily at them; Gretchen worried that she'd hurt Dawson, but Dawson urged her to live in the now; Contrivance ran up a big old long-distance bill and got cracker crumbs in the couch.
Fade up at the International House Of Fishcakes. Gretchen "Oldschlager" Witter is on the phone with a friend when Gale "Waistless Hussy" Leery comes up to the bar and snippily asks what became of Table 9's Cabernet: "I asked you for it ten minutes ago." Gretchen blames "Friday-night frenzy," saying that they've already gone through a lot of wine, which means that the restaurant's "having an amazing night." Gale rolls her eyes and bitches about getting the orders to the tables, and maybe if Gretchen "weren't taking personal calls, [she'd] have time to get the other case" of Cabernet. She waddles off in a huff ("wuffles"?); Gretchen looks taken aback. Enter Dawson "Werner Assbinder" Leery, carrying a case of the Cab and saying that it took him a while to find it. Gretchen dispatches a glass of it to Table 9 and asks if Gale "is this edgy at home too," or if it's Gretchen in particular that has Gale's "knickers in a twist." I say that all the time -- shout-out? Dawson, who has a new hairdon't that manages to combine the weird parasitical-anemone shape of his season-three style with the limp slipperiness of the current season, blames the pregnancy hormones. Right -- because a pregnant woman can't just get into a bad mood. Gretchen asks again whether it has anything to do with her and Dawson as a couple. Dawson snorts that Gale "loves" Gretchen. Gretchen says sure, as Pacey's sister and the IHOF's "ever-trusty barkeep," but "as Mrs. Robinson, maybe not." "Ever-trusty"? "Barkeep"? Shut up, Gretchen. Dawson arches an eyebrow and dismisses this. Gretchen blah blah "incredibly hostile vibe" bling blay "nothing to do with me" bloo blee "we're good…and we're good together" blah blah blah and then I find myself rocketing through a galactic wormhole with colored lights flashing brightly all around me, and then a bright light blinds me, and then I find myself in a bedroom with weird floor lighting, and then I see myself as an old woman eating dinner, and then I see myself dying, and then bummm bummm bummm BA DUMMM (bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum) I've become a fetus orbiting the earth, the conversation goes on that long, and the terrifying strains of Richard Strauss surround the transparent womb in which I circle the planet as Gretchen proposes that Dawson meet her friends, and Dawson looks afraid and equivocates, and a chimp seated beside a black monolith throws a bone up in the air, and then Gretchen biffs a rule of English usage, and then there's banter, and cue a cat strapped into the Coney Island teacups ride as Gretchen reassures Dawson, "Just be yourself, they'll love you." No comment. Leaning towards a kiss, they get busted by a glowering Gale.
Dear Denise Richards: 14:52. Get a good money manager. Love, your career.
The Yacht Club. Non-Liz Non-Claiborne reminds Drue "So Stop Calling Me!" Valentine that she gives him "a lot of leeway around here," so he'd better do as she says. Drue snarks that she's starting to resemble "a Disney villainess," and stomps off past Joey "'Tude Law" Potter. Does Joey want something? Joey lies that she doesn't. NLNC sees through her and theorizes that Joey wants time off for the "upcoming senior trip." Long story short, Joey must bring Pacey on a double date with Drue and the daughter of the Yacht Club board's president, and make sure said daughter has a "nice time"; if a nice time is achieved, Joey gets the time off. If not, NLNC will see that Joey works every weekend shift for the rest of time. Joey, beaten, says with a smirk, "When should we be ready?"
Brookshaven. "Our" Mr. Brooks and Dawson confer over footage; Mr. Brooks sits in a wheelchair. "Love Is A Many-Splendored" Grams Ryan comes in with a tray of pills for Mr. Brooks and suggests taking a break. Dawson comments that, "much as [he hates] to stop," he has lunch plans. Grams puts the tray down and goes to get "another bottle of pills," although the closed captions have her saying "another bottle of Percocet," so obviously Mr. Brooks is in some pain. Anyway, after she leaves the room, Mr. Brooks stage-whispers to Dawson that he needs a favor -- he can't get to the store on his own to get his prescriptions anymore, and he hates that Grams has to take him. "Yeah, whatever I can do to help," Dawson says. Mr. Brooks whips out a blue-backed document and tells Dawson to sign it, adding a little too quickly that the document contains "just lawyer talk, legalese, gobbledy-gook." "Saying what, exactly?" Dawson asks, starting to skim the papers, and Mr. Brooks lies that it authorizes Dawson to act as his go-fer. He avoids Dawson's gaze really obviously before turning back to him with an overly encouraging smile. Predictably, Dawson is flattered; Mr. Brooks tells him to hurry up and sign before Grams gets back, because he doesn't want to "hurt her feelings," and just as predictably, Dawson signs the document without reading it. Gee, I don't suppose that's going to come up again later, do you? Good thing it's totally kosher for a minor to authorize documents without a guardian -- or a witness of any sort, for that matter -- present. Not. It isn't. Anyway, Dawson finishes putting the "not" in "notary public" just as Grams bustles back into the room and hands Mr. Brooks his dosage, and Mr. Brooks hurriedly stuffs the papers down the back of his pants. Dawson leaves, saying he'll return in an hour. Mr. Brooks begins taking his parade of pills, groaning slightly, but as Grams passes his chair, saying something about a phone call from the nursing agency, Mr. Brooks pockets the pills instead of swallowing them. Then he grumps typically about something so that Grams won't suspect anything, and she shoots him a "whatever" look.
Witterschloss. Pacey "Sir Gawain" Witter looks at Gretchen's outfit and says "no" about a dozen times. Gretchen cracks on him, of all people, for "offering a fashion opinion." Pacey, sporting his customary Mondrian-inspired Hawaiian shirt over a henley top, responds that "that is not a going-out-of-the-house outfit." There's more back-and-forth on the subject, with Pacey wanting Gretchen to wear something baggier "that hides the human form." The non-funniness of the protective-brother routine aside, Gretchen's outfit -- a cropped magenta split-neck top with bell sleeves, paired with khaki hiphuggers cut so low that one sneeze puts her in the proverbial crack den -- does make her boobs look gigantic. Gretchen manages to change the subject to Pacey's plans for the evening, which he describes as "another night of being the perfect boyfriend." Tough job, very few rewards, blah. "True love waits," Gretchen truisms. "And waits, and waits," Pacey mutters. Gretchen calls him on that and asks what's up. He denies that there's anything up. Gretchen needles him. He resists. A horn honks outside, saving him, and Gretchen grabs her sweater-coat and beats it out of there.
McPhee Manor. "Here He Comes Now, Say, Tobey" Tobey stands on the lawn, staring at the front door and looking apprehensive. The camera pans around to show Jack "Big Top Pee-Wee" McPhee returning from his morning run. Tobey snides about how he should have known that Jack's "the type that jogs." "What type is that, exactly?" Jack pants, pulling off his headphones. Tobey continues to crack on Jack as "the country-club-family type," albeit in a nicer tone of voice than usual. I really had high hopes for Tobey after the last episode, but he doesn't appear to have learned anything; plus, his hair looks like it got blown onto his head from behind somehow. It's really weird, and quite bad. Jack, also not winning any awards in the hair department (his 'do has that weird plasticky Hair-Club-For-Men-weave thing going on), gruffs, "Tobey, what're you doing here?" "I've come to proposition you," Tobey Freudian-slips, then hastily assures Jack that it's "merely a turn of phrase" before pitching him on the idea of joining an after-school tutoring program, because "[he] can read." Jack snorts that that makes him feel special. Tobey tells Jack to "check [his] attitude at the door and let's get serious for a minute." Then Tony Robbins bounds onto the set and urges Jack to walk barefoot over a bed of hot coals. Oh, wait, actually Tobey reminds Jack that he likes working with kids, and these kids need his help. Jack says he's not interested in a repeat of the soccer thing. Tobey says that everyone at "the Council" knows that he's gay: "It's not an issue." Jack is still lukewarm on the idea; Tobey tells him to come by if he changes his mind. Jack heads into the house; cut to a lovestruck Tobey watching him go, and the sound of the door slamming. Now that's what I call foreshadowing!
At the docks, Pacey crabs about having to go on the date with Drue and refers to NLNC as "Satan's handmaiden." Joey hits him with the puppy-dog eyes and says, "You want me on our senior trip, don't you?" Pacey smarms that he "wants" her everywhere -- ski resort, parking lot, "[he's] not choosy." Joey ignores that and reminds him that it's their priority to make sure that Anna has a good time. Banter. Schmoop. The Annamobile pulls up, and Anna gets out, wondering aloud why people always honk at her. Drue snarls that it's probably because she "camped out" in the middle of an intersection to check her make-up. Anna snarks at Drue, who snarks back at her and then snarks at Joey and blah, who snarks back at him and blah, and introductions and blah, and Pacey pretends he's Joey and blah, confusion reigns, Drue wants to "get this disaster on the road," Pacey opens Anna's car door for her and Joey gives him a look, and he shrugs, "Just bein' nice," and Joey's all, "Mmm hmm."
Brookshaven. Footage of Mr. Brooks runs on Dawson's laptop; cut to Mr. Brooks watching distractedly. Pain flickers across his face. Dawson, standing behind him and off to one side, doesn't see it, commenting that he thinks "that section's pretty much done." Mr. Brooks says that the whole thing's done. Dawson wants to tweak it, but Mr. Brooks, breathing through the pain, tells him to lock it up and put the credits on so that he can "run it for an audience." Dawson asks again about editing here and there, but Mr. Brooks waves it off: "Could be better, could be worse, could be just…different. The thing to do now is, uh…let it go." He looks sad. Again, Dawson is oblivious, saying, "Right -- at least for tonight, anyway," and he wheels Mr. Brooks into the living room "for some of that music you love to blare." Heh. That struck me as funny for some reason.
Chit-chat about Gretchen. "Don't take it too easy -- you're not my age, you hear me?" Mr. Brooks wheezes. Dawson turns on an antique radio, and the black monolith crashes through my kitchen window and scares the cats as "What A Wonderful World" begins to play on the soundtrack. Mr. Brooks tells Dawson that he's still young enough to fall in and out of love a few more times before he gets it right. Dawson sits beside Mr. Brooks, remarking that that doesn't sound like much fun. Mr. Brooks says that "it isn't, and it is…and it isn't," but it's worth it "every damn time." Okay, writers? We've passed this intersection at least three times; get out and ask for directions, already. Dawson teases him about waxing "prophetic," and Mr. Brooks says that "pancreatic cancer'll make a prophet outta anybody." Ouch. Well, at least the writers chose a disease that fits with Mr. Brooks's symptoms as we've seen them so far. Dawson's face falls; after an awkward moment, he says that he guesses he'll go, unless Mr. Brooks needs anything else. Reluctant to say goodnight, Mr. Brooks asks Dawson to help him over to the couch; Dawson does so, and Mr. Brooks slings an arm over Dawson's shoulders and leans on Dawson, and they shuffle slow-dance-style towards the couch.
When they've almost reached it, Mr. Brooks suddenly slings his other arm up and hugs Dawson. Dawson hugs him back a bit stiffly, his eyes scared. Mr. Brooks's face over Dawson's shoulder struggles not to cry. Then Mr. Brooks abruptly lets go and eases himself down onto the couch. Dawson regards him for a moment, and he can't seem to decide what to say, settling on a halting, "Well. There you go." Mr. Brooks composes himself and tells Dawson, "Picture's not half-bad," and he's not just saying so because it's about him. Tears shine in Dawson's eyes: "We should make another one sometime." Mr. Brooks beams, "Any time, kid. Any time." They twinkle at one another. Dawson quickly says goodnight and heads for the door before he loses it, and we fade out on Mr. Brooks's face working. Aww. You know, we've had some debate on the forums about Van Der Beek's acting in that scene, but I think he did a fine job. In fact, even when the Dawson character is written as a buttnut, the acting in his scenes with Harve Presnell is as good as any he's done. Anyway, on to the commercials.
You know that scene in Mommie Dearest when Louie Mayer explains to Joan Crawford that she's "box-office poison"? I think that into Freddie Prinze Jr.'s life a little Louie Mayer must fall.
Reconciliation Ranch. Dawson opens the door on Gretchen and her two friends, commenting with not a little passive aggression that he thought maybe they "forgot about" him. Gretchen apologizes, saying that they started talking and lost track of the time, and introduces him to Keira and Jessica, both of whom have masses of curly hair and a lot of space-dyed knit clothing on. Small talk. Jessica says, "Great house -- rental?" Dawson has to admit that it's his parents' house, which cues the Hussy to enter, looking pinched and disapproving (not to mention an even more pronounced shade of walnut than usual). Keira and Jessica say that it's nice to meet her, and the Hussy does that patented thing moms do with the tight "uh huh, whatever" smile and the little nod. Dawson asks the girls if they'll get "there" in time, the Hussy asks where he's going, he tells her and adds that he'll get back late so he'll see her in the morning, and the Hussy says she doesn't think she likes the idea of Dawson going to a club: "Do they serve alcohol?" Dawson points out, rather reasonably, that the IHOF serves alcohol and his hanging out there doesn't seem to bother her; the Hussy snaps something about worrying about him and asks, "Since when do you go…clubbing?" Dawson jokes that it's not like it's Studio 54. The Hussy says she'd "feel better" if she knew when he'd be home, and sets a curfew. Dawson objects, saying he's never had a curfew before. Gretchen eyes the Hussy. Dawson asks to meet the girls outside in a few minutes. They file out, trying manfully not to laugh at him. After they've gone out, Dawson bitches at his mother for embarrassing him; the Hussy snips back that she's "trying to protect" him. I have to take Dawson's side here, if reluctantly -- first of all, the curfew conversation shouldn't take place in front of the kid's friends. That's basic parental politics. Second of all, if you haven't set boundaries for your child before, you can't just decide to start when he's seventeen. Newsflash, Gale: you let Dawson bully you into having a baby you didn't want, so don't expect him to take you seriously now.
Anyway, they argue. Gale says she's worried that Dawson will get hurt, because Gretchen "might actually be in a different place in her life." Dawson says it's not like that. Gale isn't sure. Dawson flares his nostrils and says that he is sure, and "it really doesn't matter" what Gale thinks, because it's his life and his relationship; he goes on to say that if Gale wants to exert "last-minute maternal control" over her child, she'll "have to wait 'til the one," and on that note, he flounces out. As I've said about a hundred times before, my mother would have slapped me black and blue for talking to her like that, but -- well, see above. Gale sighs all dramatically.
Mini-golf course. Anna stresses over a putt. Drue complains. Joey hisses at him. Pacey advises Anna on her shot, and Joey again gives him the furry eyeball while Drue whinges some more about another date he has later and not wanting to stay out all night with "you skeeves" and blah blangety blick. Joey snatches his cell phone away from him, and when he snarks at her, she threatens to reheat the whup-ass she served him in the storage room if he doesn't make nice with Anna. Drue thinks she means that he should act "more like Pacey," and Joey says that it "wouldn't hurt," and Drue strums the jealousy mandolin, pointing out that Pacey "does seem to be enjoying himself, doesn't he?" Joey looks sad. Just then, Anna gets her ball into the hole (no comment), squeals, "I did it!" and runs over to give Pacey a big hug. Drue snarks. Joey sulks.
A school building. Inside, Jack stands in the doorway, waiting to get Tobey's attention. Tobey gets up and greets him with a nice smile (yay) and a stupid comment involving Jack Sprat (sigh -- please shut up, Tobey). Jack informs him with a dry chuckle, "I did not come down here to be your whipping boy, Tobey [awww, man], so check the attitude at the door please, and let's get serious for a second." "Clever," Tobey smirks. "All that and sass, too. Maybe you are one of the tribe after all." Tobey, Tobey, Tobey. Please. Shut up. Tobey explains the deal with the tutoring: Jack reads with the kids and helps them sound out words, "but mostly just be nice to 'em." Jack says he can do that. "I know," Tobey says affably. Jack looks up, startled. Tobey says that's why he asked Jack down there.
Gretchenmobile. The girls talk about kitchen-counter sex and "recovery time." Dawson looks profoundly uncomfortable. Keira asks Dawson very condescendingly, "Ohhh, is this too much for you?" He lies that no, it's "fascinating." Giggling. Then the girls spot a song on the radio that reminds them of a dorky guy who used to live on their floor, and they crank it and sing along; Dawson doesn't know the song, but tries to play it off like he does, nodding, "Yeah, vaguely." The girls cackle and screech. Dawson grins all fakely, and you can almost hear his teeth drying out.
Post-game at mini-golf. Anna talks lipstick with Joey; the boys come back to the table, and Joey explains that they're discussing how the beauty industry "manipulates and contorts our perception of ourselves." Drue sarcastically comments on the intellectual conversation and asks Anna her opinion on the "electoral college controversy," a remark that probably seemed really cutting and timely when the writers penned this episode three months ago, but which falls pretty flat. Joey warns Drue to "lay off," but Anna blunders ahead, saying she thinks people should go to "whatever college they want to," as long as their parents can afford it. Like, ha ha. Not. Drue slams Anna's stupidity. Anna calls him a jerk. Drue mentions that Anna's father "arranged this whole evening." Pacey gets up at that point and declares that "this sick and twisted little evening is now over," and Drue comments on how it's "sweet" that Pacey always defends "damsels in distress," adding, "Especially the blonder ones." Zing! Joey glares at Drue. Pacey asks if he's now allowed to punch Drue in the face. Drue wants to ask Pacey a question first, and he gets up and blathers on about how beautiful girls "will only put out" if men call them smart, and vice versa. I could write a masters thesis about that comment, but I will confine myself to remarking that a double date isn't really the most appropriate time to give voice to it, and that whichever one of the writers came up with that soggy platitude after twelve glasses of wine-in-the-box probably shouldn't feel too proud of himself, since you can find the same antediluvian sentiment in cave drawings. ANYway, Anna sighs that "this is all [her] fault," and Joey tries to tell her that it isn't, that nothing is her fault, but Anna continues to groan that she's an idiot and she can't believe she was so stupid, and she gets up and shudders at Drue, "I can't believe I slept with you," and walks off. Joey is shocked. Pacey says he didn't see "that one" coming. Yeah, nobody did; the writers didn't give it any set-up. Drue smirks guiltily.
Gretchenmobile. Gretchen parks -- on the Cape in winter, you can just park in the middle of the damn street, apparently -- and as they get out of the car, she asks Dawson, "How you doin'?" But not like Joey Tribbiani or anything, although that would have cracked me up. Dawson laughs uneasily that "it's been an interesting evening so far," and goes on to admit that he's "never felt so seventeen" in his life. Gretchen cracks that if he's seventeen, what is she doing with him, and then pokes him and says that she's kidding. Oh, ha ha. Not. She reassures him that she and the other girls "are just catching up," then says prophetically that "it'll be over soon" and "the worst of the night is already behind us" just as they walk up to the bouncer and Dawson has to run the embarrassment gantlet all over again, getting a big red UNDER 21 stamp on the back of his hand while the girls look on and laugh at him. I feel for him. I didn't turn 21 until late in my senior year of college, and I did a lot of watery-Coke-drinking and designated driving while my friends shot me pitying looks, and it sucks. Anyway, Dawson holds up his stamped hand and whines about "how perfectly this encapsulates [his] life right now" -- what life? -- and then there's a really sudden fade to commercial as Gretchen looks sorry for him.
Back from the ads, Pacey finds Anna outside and tells her he hopes she's not crying over Drue: "The man is a world-class moron." Anna jokes sadly that, if that's the case, then they should "be perfect for each other." Pacey gives her an encouraging speech about finding something that she's good at, but Anna just sighs that she's only good at one thing: men. Pacey tries to tell her that surely there's something else she's good at too, but Anna says no, not really: "That's always been the easiest thing for me." She wanted Drue to like her for more than the way she looks. "You don't know that he doesn't," Pacey points out, but Anna heaves another sigh and says that now she'll never find out: "I blew it. I fell into bed too easily." Oh, boy. I can feel a Tolstoy-length sidebar about to burst forth fully formed from my head here, but let's see where this goes first. Anna asks Pacey tearfully if he thinks Drue would have liked her if she hadn't slept with him so soon. Pacey winces and says he can't answer that, but he can tell her that he sees a lot of nice things in her besides how she looks, "and if Drue Valentine can't see that, well, that's his loss, not yours." Anna smiles ruefully.
And here's the sidebar, which I'll attempt to keep short because Contrivance invited some friends over and I've got to clean up before they get here: in my experience, it's often better to wait to sleep with a person that you care about and want a relationship with, because sex advances things to a whole new level, and sometimes, when you take that physical step before the emotions match, things get weird, and people feel pressure to act in a way that they don't feel. How. EVER. I don't like the implication that Anna "should have known better," or that she somehow let herself in for Drue treating her like crap, or that girls should only sleep with boys that they love or have a committed relationship with, because -- well, yes, that's ideal. Sex is more fulfilling on a variety of levels when you have an emotional bond with your partner. But that's not always the way the world works, particularly not in high school, and there's a judgmental fifties-ish "make them wait or they won't respect you" undertone here that I don't like at all.
The non-Studio 54 club. Bathed in scary neon-pink light, Dawson and the girls sit at a table. The girls continue the cat chat and introduce us to the concept of the loser list, i.e. all the schmucks who've broken their hearts and treated them bad, blah blah blah fishcakes; it seems that Jessica has just edged past Gretchen, who has six losers on her list. Dawson tries to clarify, asking if it's a list of all the dickheads they've dated, and Keira shrugs, "Only the ones we've slept with." Dawson practically gags on that. Gretchen tells him that he's "way too nice of a guy" to make the list, and Dawson starts to take comfort in that until Keira snorts that she's "heard that before," adding that, "for all of Gretchen's strong points, she's not the best judge of men." Thank you, Obvious Mahoney. Then Keira says patronizingly that she's sure that doesn't include Dawson: "You seem very nice." "Why does everyone keep saying that -- I'm not that nice!" Dawson splutters, trying to put a good-natured spin on it, and the girls all laugh at him.
Gretchen says that Keira just means he's not the kind of guy who would ditch her at a concert for another girl (apparently, Loser #2 did that to her), and then the other girls bring up various other losers on Gretchen's list. Gretchen says that she doesn't want to get into it, because she's "not drunk enough" to catalog her "life's most embarrassing choices" in front of Dawson, and it bears pointing out that most girls know better than to air their friend's laundry out in front of The New Guy anyway, but Keira and Jessica won't let it drop, and we find out that Gretchen had Lucky the leprechaun tattooed on her hip to impress Loser #5, a musician, and Gretchen slurs that at least it's there to remind her never to date a musician again, "no matter how hot or sexy he might be." Dawson looks like he's ingested a bug. Gretchen schmoops that she knows Dawson "won't shred my heart." Your corneas, on the other hand…the show starts. Gretchen snuggles up to Dawson as the pianeuse, who has Katie Couric hair, sings about how her life plays "like it's a movie" and sometimes she just thinks that she's afraid and other anvilicious sentiments of that sort.
Tutoring. A kid with cool cornrows struggles with a word, then bitches, "I don't like this story!" Jack suggests reading another one: "You have to have something ready for class, right?" Cornrows slams the book shut: "There's nothing good in here!" Jack says that school stories did nothing for him either, and he thinks the two of them could make up a better story between them than the ones in the book. Cornrows, whose name is Will, mentions a story he thought up about aliens taking him to the moon. Jack says that Will can tell him the story, he'll write it down, and on Monday Will can tell it to his class -- but Will can only use words he can spell in the story. They start working on it. Will looks up a word. The Joy Of Learning settles on his face. Tobey looks on, an admiring brow arched, as Will successfully spells "spaceship." Will might want to spell "acting coach" while he's at it, because he's cute and has rockin' hair, but he's murdering his line readings.
Mini-golf. Drue gets his mack on with two girls, but Joey breaks it up by saying that "it's time we talk about the baby -- I think you need to take responsibility and marry me." Hee! Drue bitches at Joey for interrupting his swerve. Joey asks how he could sleep with Anna "and then treat her like that." Drue tries to deflect with snark, but Joey calls him on it, saying that he has a "whole witty Drue routine," but it's only a disguise -- he's afraid nobody will love him, so he deflects intimacy, blah blah blah. Joey, put the remote down and back away from the Oprah, okay? "How insightful," Drue cracks, but Joey isn't done, saying that it doesn't take a degree to see through him and that, if he keeps it up, his worst fear "is gonna come true -- [he's] gonna walk through life alone."
Drue shakes his head before admitting, seemingly more to get Joey off his back than out of any genuine desire to confess, "I'm not really good with girls. I'm actually incredibly bad with them." Joey, concerned: "How come?" Drue "spent [his] formative years" at all-boys' schools, so he only knows how to pick on women and sleep with them; he never learned how to do anything else. Come to think of it, Drue does kind of remind me of all-boys'-school graduates I've known and had the misfortune of loving. "You're doing something else right now," Joey tells him quietly, going on to say that he's "real" right now, and he should "work on that." Drue thinks about that, then reverts to form by pointing out that Pacey and Anna "look kinda cute together" and hassling Joey some more about her lack of sexual experience. Joey makes melted-wax face. Anna comes into mic range, raving that she can't believe Pacey spent the whole summer on a boat and that her dad is always looking for help on his boat, because she's like, sailing, no way. Pacey says she just hasn't done it with the right person yet, and he takes Joey's hand and smiles down at her. Joey kisses his hand back. Anna beams at them. Drue bobs his head up and down. Whaaaaatever.
Will gathers his stuff and takes off, turning in the doorway to look happily back at Jack. Okay, okay. We get it. Tobey remarks that it's the first time he's seen Will psyched to come back. Jack says Will just had to get "interested in something." "It must feel good." "It feels great, actually -- I'm all wired from it," Jack says, and they both laugh. Then Tobey casually invites Jack to coffee with him and a couple of friends. Jack hesitates. Tobey promises not to keep him out too late. Oh, go on, Jack. Tobey has bad hair right now, but he's still so cute. Let him keep you out late. Jack agrees: "Just for a little bit, though." Tobey smiles. Sigh. I wish I didn't know how this turned out.
The club. The show lets out, and the girls suggest going to Dex's for fries and black-and-tans. Mmmm, that sounds pretty good. Dawson pipes up quietly that he probably can't get into Dex's. Jessica says that they never used to card, but Dawson silently holds up his scarlet-stamped hand. Keira and Jessica openly point and laugh at him as Gretchen bites her lip. Damn, that's harsh…and yet, strangely satisfying. After an awkward silence, Dawson tells them to go on ahead without him and have a good time, and he'll take a cab back. "No! Don't be ridiculous," Gretchen slurs, and we're supposed to think that she's going to come with him, but instead she reminds him that "we've been drinking," so he should take the car and they'll get the cab. Gretchen gives him the keys and leers, "God, I have the best boyfriend," gives him a smooch, and tells him she'll call him tomorrow. Keira and Jessica giggle pityingly that "it was great to meet" him, and the cat pack leaves D Minor in the dust.
Oy, the Charmed promo. Could everyone in Hollywood please agree not to use that Matrix mid-air running kick move anymore? It's so, so tired at this point.
The pier. The double-daters say goodnight. In contrast to their first scene, Drue is nice to Anna about her driving. Then there's a weird exchange involving a stuffed bear that Pacey won with Anna's quarter or something, which she tries to give back to him to give to Joey, and did part of this subplot end up on the cutting-room floor or what? Any road, Pacey and Joey take off. Then Drue and Anna have a nice little moment where he tells her that, if she wants to out again sometime, she won't have to get his mother to "coerce" him. After a little more back-and-forth, they kiss. Contrivance wants to know if my speakers get any more bass.
Brookshaven. Grams and Mr. Brooks play bingo. Well, Grams does; Mr. Brooks stares into space, and when Grams notices, he says he's just a little tired. Grams suggests stopping for the night; she has to get home anyway. She starts boxing up the bingo set as Mr. Brooks regards her fondly, and when she asks, "What?" he says, "Kinda glad that Leery kid stole my boat." Grams shakes her head and reminds him dryly that they'd met before; he came to the church bazaar and bought two of her apple pies, and complained about the price as well. "They were peach, and worth every penny," he mock-grumps. Aw. "Mmm, a compliment!" Grams says sardonically. "Ten years late, but nice to have all the same," and she gets up to put away the bingo set. Heh. When she gets to the sideboard, she sees an open tin containing a rainbow of pills; Mr. Brooks hears her pick it up, and says defensively that he has to stay alert to play board games with her. "This is not funny, Arthur," she snaps, expositioning that he's skipped weeks' worth of medication, but he says that he knew she'd understand. I don't see the big deal; the survival rate for cancer of the pancreas, even with aggressive treatment, is something like five percent for one year. The medication he's taking manages his pain, but it doesn't affect the disease itself, so I could understand Grams arguing with Mr. Brooks's stubbornness in not wanting to take pain medication, but other than that, it's really a non-issue -- it's not like he's hastening his own end by refusing the pills. But it's not like the writers did any research into it, either, so let's move on. Grams wants to know how she could possibly understand "something like this." Mr. Brooks reminds her that living without dignity "is not living." Grams takes his hand and tells him firmly that he's in God's hands now: "There is a natural course of events." Mr. Brooks responds that, as long as he can think for himself, he will determine those events; it's in his hands, not God's or Grams's. Again, this isn't really an issue. If he's dying of pancreatic cancer and isn't undergoing chemo and radiation, which we can probably assume he isn't, the medication is immaterial except from a comfort standpoint. Anyway, Mr. Brooks asks if she'd want any less for herself. Grams doesn't answer, just looks at him sadly. Then she gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek, and he smiles, and she kisses his hand like Joey did Pacey's in the earlier scene, and he kisses her hand back and bids her goodnight. After she moves out of the shot, Mr. Brooks rests his head on his hand and looks tearful again.
Coffeehouse. Tobey's friends hail him from a table; Tobey waves back, then tells Jack to "pick [his] poison -- regular or decaf," but Jack is shooting a look of obvious dismay over Tobey's shoulder at the friends, and he asks Tobey, "Can I talk to you?" Uh oh -- does anyone else smell smoke? Jack pulls Tobey aside and grunts that Tobey didn't tell him they "were meeting another couple." How he knows it's a couple, I have no idea, but whatever -- Tobey stammers that he "didn't think it was important." Jack says that "it kind of is," that it's late on Saturday night and Tobey wants him to meet his friends: "I'm beginning to think this is more than just coffee to you. Is it?" Tobey looks like he might cry, then recovers to say that he'd really "like it if it were." Jack stifles a bitter laugh before asking if Tobey started "the tutoring thing" because of him. Tobey grudgingly admits that possibly it's "part of the reason" and he thought that "it was something we could do together." Jack sourly confirms that Tobey's whole friendship line "was just a set-up to be with me." Oh, lighten up, Jack. Tobey makes the mistake of admitting that Jen told him to pursue the friendship angle, and Jack says that friendship is "fine," but he wants to make it clear "that there's not gonna be anything more, ever." Then Bart frame-by-frames through the shot and we see Ralph Wiggums's heart breaking apart in his chest. Then Tobey asks in a stricken tone, "Why not?" Jack says, not quite believing that Tobey doesn't get it, that they "don't click," and even if Tobey wanted to change that, he can't. Tobey hopes desperately for a hole to open up and swallow him. Jack sees this, grimaces in sympathy, and says he knows it won't make Tobey feel better, but he really does "wish [they] had something." Ouch. As the flames rise higher, Jack thinks aloud that maybe it's not such a great idea for them both to keep on with the tutoring; Tobey tells Jack that he's "great at it," and he should keep going, so Tobey will "find something else." Then Jack retracts the statement and tells Tobey to forget he said that -- there's no reason they can't both continue tutoring, as long as Tobey doesn't have a problem with them staying just friends. "I'm fine," Tobey lies valiantly, the frames of his glasses beginning to melt. "That's fine." Jack says he'll see him Saturday, and leaves. Tobey collapses in a pile of ash.
Reconciliation Ranch. Dawson lets himself in; the Hussy dozes on the couch. "Waiting up for me?" Dawson nostril-flares. "I'm a mother, that's what we do." She stretches and asks if he had a good time. He didn't, actually: "I fear I'll end up number seven on the loser list." Aw -- buck up, little camper! You're always number one on my loser list. He hates to admit it, but Dawson thinks the Hussy might have had a point about him and Gretchen. The Hussy graciously says no, she's wrong, and she's spent the night regretting what she said to him before. Dawson sits down in front of her and fixes her with an expectant gaze as she says that, "like it or not," she's going to have to let her "first baby" go. Dawson bites his lip and says that he probably will get hurt, that Gretchen has a lot more life experience than he does, but the Hussy points out that Gretchen's life experience makes her "the person that she is," someone who "is clearly crazy" about Dawson, and that's why he has to see where it goes and not "be afraid to put [his] heart at risk. That's the only way that you will ever find love…again." Good advice from the Hussy.
Just then, a knock at the door. It's Gretchen: "I hope it's not too late." The Hussy comes in to say goodnight to Dawson, and he kisses her tenderly on the cheek, but before she goes upstairs, she warns Gretchen that she hopes they both agree Dawson "will never be number seven on any list." Reowrrrr…fffft. Gretchen looks afraid. The Hussy departs.
Dawson walks over to stand in front of the fire, and there's a shot of him with his hair foofed up on the sides; it looks like an ass, literally. Gretchen tells him hesitantly that, if it makes him feel any better, she got to Dex's, immediately felt bad, and had the cab take her to the Ranch instead. He says that it does make him feel better. Gretchen adds that she got "the uncensored new-guy evaluation," and Dawson did quite well. "The age thing didn't bother them?" Dawson asks, and Gretchen says that even if it did, she doesn't really care: "It doesn't bother me." "It bothers me," Dawson whines, adding that he wants to do stuff with her, like go to clubs and order wine at dinner, and he doesn't want "to be some guy who's holding you back from what you wanna do." Gretchen says she's doing exactly what she wants to do: "I'm with you." Barf. Dawson reminds her of the not-shredding-her-heart comment, and says it's true that he'd never hurt her, but she can't use Dawson to find safety after a bad relationship "because there's no risk involved." Nostril flare: "I need to know that I've made some sort of impression." "It's already done," she whispers, leaning in. Yeah, no kidding. "Really?" "Oh, yeah." Oh, barf. Kissing. Barfing. "So when do I get to see Lucky?" Dawson smarms. "We'll see," Gretchen says. Yes, I suppose we will. Unfortunately. Dawson leers at her some more.
Witterschloss. Here we go again. Joey recaps the end of Drue and Anna's date for Pacey. Pacey doesn't get why Anna would take Drue back after all that, since she seemed like "a perfectly reasonable girl." Joey rolls her eyes and snips, "Yeah, sleeping with somebody you just met is -- totally reasonable." Don't knock it till you've tried it, Virgin Prochnow. Pacey drops his head and says that maybe it's "a little rash," but if it's two people doing what they want to do and it's "natural," he wouldn't call that "crazy." Joey withdraws from his embrace slightly and baits him with, "Unlike what we're doing?" He doesn't know what she's talking about. The thing they never talk about, Joey says: "We have a problem." Pacey agrees, saying that it used to be a small problem, but they ignored it, so it got bigger and blah. I really don't see the big deal here, either -- do they only kiss and grind against each other fully-clothed? I mean, seriously, intercourse doesn't seem like that huge a concern if you've progressed past second base, but apparently they haven't even gotten that far. Anyway, Pacey winds up by saying that now the problem has gotten so big that "it's starting to obscure [his] view of" Joey. Joey seizes on this and asks angrily if he's saying that either they sleep together, or they break up and it's her fault. Pacey says no, of course not, but they do have to talk about it. Joey says, on the point of tears, that it isn't her fault; they talked about it, and "you were fine with waiting." Pacey was fine with it, he's been fine with it, and he didn't want to sleep with her "too soon" because he didn't want to "jeopardize" the relationship, but "this is eight months and counting" (word), and he needs her to know that it's not his "fault" either.
Joey approaches him and says, "Pacey…I want you…I really do." Well, he needs to know that. She gazes into his eyes: "Know it." She doesn't know why, but she keeps "holding back." She's sorry, but she's scared. Well, good, because he's scared too. "So then can we just be scared together?" Sure, go ahead. I'll just climb into this here life-support pod while a malfunctioning computer sings "Bicycle Built For Two" because how many times can they have the same conver-sa-tion before this show turns into a Warhol movie? It's sex, not a sex change, get on with your lives, PLEASE! They hug. I drift in space, thousands of light years from salvation.
The morning, as an ovary gets in touch with her feelings, Dawson gets out of the Dawsonmobile at the Brookshaven and heads inside, calling out for Mr. Brooks. Bummm bummm bummm…DA DUMMM! (Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum.) The black monolith crashes through the ceiling and pins me to the floor as we pan past the pill box on the sideboard and down to Mr. Brooks passed out -- or maybe dead -- on the floor.
week: bamp chicka bamp bamp, wah wah wahhh wahhhhhh, bamp chicka bamp bamp.