Matt, with his some kind of serious New England accent, sits in front of the computer in the firehouse with Montana on his lap. Elka voice-overs, "I think that Matt has really swept Montana off her feet," and Sean, whose best attribute as a human being is his palpable dislike for Vaj, adds, "I think Montana sees lots in Matt right now that she doesn't find in Vaj. And a lot of other great qualities that Matt has that Vaj doesn't have. And that's what's attracted Montana to Matt." And to you too, Sean, maybe just a little? He does sound smitten. We learn for the not-at-all first time that Montana and Matt have "a little something going," and Montana reiterates that "if Vaj was [sic] uncomfortable with that, then he would break up with me." Cut to Vaj calling the firehouse: "Hey, baby!" Ew. He sounds disturbingly Jerry Lewis-like in his greeting, a doubtless shout-out to the Real World's French-speaking population, who already adore Montana's displaced boyfriend on account of his name sounding like the French word for something very, very naughty. Jason, reigning lord and master of Functional Relationships Manor, feels free to judge Montana thusly: "I think she's spreading herself pretty thin. It's tempting to go out with other people while you're here, but if you love somebody you love them." Nice John-and-Yoko-on-Dick-Cavett '60s love-in ideology, Jason. Montana, meanwhile, tries to bait Vaj into giving her his coveted "Get Out of Relationship Guilt Free Card," putting words in his mouth: "I'm glad you're having a good time in New York." He tells her that he isn't really having any kind of alleged "good time," bemoaning, "There's a big empty spot." You mean, um, where your chin used to be? Bah ha ha ha ha! Ahem. Sorry. I just know how much y'all love it when I make fun of pocky Vaj in all of his mountain-faced pockiness. Consider it done. No need to thank me. Really. Reserve your praising emails for a more noble cause. Both of you. I know in my heart that I've done the right thing. Wait, what were we talking about? Oh, that's right. Map-of-the-Himalayas Vaj. That's topological. Er, I mean, "topical." As in "on-topic." And also as in "ointment for garish scars and the like."
Over in Montana and Elka's room, Montana lies in bed and gushes to Elka, "I prayed tonight." Oh, God. Elka asked her what she prayed about, and Montana admits, "I prayed that I would lose interest in Matt." If she really wants to gain some knowledge about how to lose interest in this relationship quickly, she should probably just ask Matt. Fake TV Boyfriend seems to be an expert on matters of non-love such as this one. Elka shoots down anyone's attempt to pray as nobly as she can, telling her that she thinks Montana's prayer is "a Santa Claus prayer." Eh? "When you want something and you haven't done a darn thing, dang it, to get it." Oh, burn. I mean, I don't trust the slightest bit in Montana's claim to have seen the light and converted or anything, but I'm sure Montana would have worded her claim for salvation a little more carefully had she known that someone in the house was actually personally acquainted with God. Which Elka, from her comment about His intents and motives, is. Montana claims that she has been "trying to do it." Cut to a close-up on Montana's Virgin Mary nightlight, which is a helpful reminder that this scene is imbued with religious symbolism. Which I guess I didn't know before that.
I have no idea where Sean and Jason are or that they were ever friends to begin with, but we cut to Indeterminate Firehouse Locale to find Jason mid-homily on the debits and credits of being in love with the entirety of a small but conspicuous sector of the mental health community called "The Placebo Group." Jason free-verses, "For me, the question is whether or not she should be here." She should not. "Do I want her here?" No. "Do I not want her here?" Um, yes. "Am I using her?" Like a fish uses gills, baby. "I mean, if I were to tell her, at this point, that I didn't want her here, it would crush her so badly that I can't even say that she wouldn't be suicidal. And that scares me." Yikes. ["Someone thinks rather highly of himself. -- Wing Chun] Montana (if B-M intentionally chose to structure this episode so that the world's two biggest hypocrites commented on each other's collapsing relationships, I say more power to 'em) voice-overs on Jason's behalf, "Jason said she just fell in with a bad crowd in Boulder, and he was worried about her. And he feels very protective of Timber, and he thought that if they were in the same town, he could look after her." Not a peep out of Sean yet. Good episode.
On a very special Real World, Timber lies on Jason's lap in the firehouse as he launches in: "I hear you've been doing a whole lotta drugs." She tells him that she was afraid to tell him that she was in some kind of serious drug problem trouble because she was afraid he was going to leave her. He counters, "You were afraid I was going to leave you because you were doing -- because you were on a coke binge?" Oooh, an actual binge! Is that more than a habit, but less than a bender? I know I should be feeling a tad more sympathetic, seeing that this conflicted girl is, y'know, an actual person and all, but it's so glamorized by the music and bells and whistles that it lapses into campy plot fodder, like some cold-weather Valley of the Dolls rip-off fully funded by Urban Outfitters and IKEA. Again, however, without the rehab part. Timber whimpers further, "I felt like the more I pretended everything was okay, you would think that I was doing okay and that I didn't miss you so much and hurt so much." Really, this is so pathetic and codependent. And, if I may Psych 101 the situation, Timber can clearly sense Jason's lack of commitment to this relationship so much that it's sending her into a deeper depression spiral just being around him. Her twelve-step program needs to be taking twelve steps away from Jason and onto a plane out of town, stat. Fortunately, Jason takes care of the of the breaking up in the meanest possible way I know, waiting for her to open up about her drug problem and then lulling her into trusting him unconditionally. Shaky move, Timber: "One thing that did happen that I did not tell you is that I stayed at his house. I slept on his couch and he slept in his room." Wait, who's "he"? I don't think we ever know for sure, but Jason somehow knows inherently that she's lying, and he sits up on the couch in her most vulnerable moment and demands, "Get out of my house." She tells him that she felt very alone and that there was someone who would pay attention to her, and Jason ambiguously states, "I've got to be able to trust you a lot deeper than that." Could this whole arc be any more unclear? I didn't get it when I first watched it and I don't really know what's going on now. Jason puts a fine enough point on it: "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I really don't." Then he leaves the room, leaving her sitting alone in the dark. Ouch. I agree strongly that cheaters should never get a second chance, but, dude, she's a coke addict. Her problems are a little bit bigger than yours just at the moment. Maybe you could reserve judgment until you have a chance to think about it a little. Walk around, clear your head. Maybe chill out and write some spoken word on the matter and...actually, don't.
morning, Jason and the collective viewing audience of Season Six look out the window of the firehouse and mutter a simultaneous, "What the hell?" Jason runs down the steps and outside to discover someone -- er, who could it be? -- has dropped by under the cover of darkness with a gigantic box of colored chalk (seriously, there are "umber" shades in there) and wrote "Timber Loves Jason" on the ground in letters about six total feel around. Around the words are hearts and stars and other assorted colorful symbols that would do the "Lucky Charms" leprechaun proud, and the overall effect looks like the product less of a deranged adult mind and more of a nine-year-old girl writing "Timber Loves Corey Haim" on her home driveway after her parents took her to see License to Drive. Kameelah chimes in as Kameelah has been known to do, understating, "If I had a boyfriend and he did something like that, I would think, 'Wow. That's really sweet. You're psycho.'" Dear Kameelah: WORD! Love, the normal. And the medicated. The, um, properly medicated.
In yet another room of the firehouse, Montana bitches further at Elka that she can't handle "having two boyfriends in two different cities." Aw, poor cuckolding philanderette can't make up her mind. She tells Elka that she wants to hang out with Matt, but that she knows that, in her heart of hearts, "I'm going back to live with my boyfriend." Elka tells Montana that she doesn't even owe Matt-the-TV-Whore an explanation, but sure enough, we cut to inside of his apartment, in which Montana is explaining, "When I told my boyfriend we were going to see other people, I had envisioned myself hooking up at a bar. I didn't envision myself seeing somebody regularly, going out with them [sic] on Valentine's Day. That kind of thing." Matt got more out of the deal than he'd initially bargained for as well, and his Dirty White Cap is pulled down on his brow almost enough to conceal the self-loving frat boy grin that seems permanently affixed to his face. What does he have not to smile about, after all? The dude got more screen time than Syrus and Elka combined. Montana voice-overs that she can't live this double life anymore, and we cut back to the apartment to see Matt hope that they can be friends. The Squiggly Hip of Font of Character Introduction at no point feels necessary to tell us that he is "Matt." Because we already knew that. And if that isn't a testament to show infiltration, man, I don't know what is. Who's the whore now?
Back at the firehouse, "How Bizarre" kicks up on the soundtrack (How much did I troll the radio waves for this song back in the day? During the gaps between trolling for "Say You'll Be There" and "Mmm-Bop" is how much) as Montana tells Sean and Jason, "I'm going to New York the day after tomorrow. Seriously, like, and I'm not just saying this, I'm, like, done with Matt. And I feel so good about it." Jason voice-overs from what looks like a confessional three days after arriving in Boston, "I think Montana has a lot to learn about herself when it comes to dealing with men." Oh, and BAH HA HA HA! Because he has every right to judge right now. Every right in the world. Even though said judging took place, like, three months ago. Whatever.
Wait, what's this bogus crap right here? We're over at the (yawn) CCC, where Poor, Poor Anthony tells the Somber Seven that he wants them to find their "niche" with activities of their choice for the kids. Dude, bad call. Just give them all a rote task or two like walking the kids to the bathroom or refilling their empty bug juice cups. As soon as you actually allow them to express any free will, you're going to have Montana and Jason dispensing relationship advice, Elka mixing church and state, and Syrus lecherously oozing around the room skulking up to all of the kids and unctuously asking, "So, kid, any moms at home like you?" Anyway, Jason decides that because he used to like to build model cars, he would have MTV buy him a whole lot of model cars to give to them. That's really the whole scene. Yippee. Oh, and the song "Been It" by The Cardigans rages on as the soundtrack (foreshadowing in the most inadvertent way, considering its repeated use of the word "whore" in the unplayed chorus), which is a song from First Band on the Moon, the same album that features college-party dance staple, "Lovefool." Anyway, it's a great song and album, though not quite as good as the first one, which I found by accident in 1994 when in a desperate search to find a musical proxy for the brilliant Sundays, who had broken up for a brief spell of time called That Entire Decade. This project cost me millions of dollars in crappy CDs, which yielded only a lone quality few such as this one. Speaking of which, if anyone's in the market for the first six Cranberries CDs -- or perhaps you're interested in something a little more in the way of Tasmin Archer, and I'm sure you are -- email me directly. We'll see what we can work out. ["Hope Sandoval is sitting at home, crying inconsolably, right now." -- Wing Chun]
Timber shows up at the door of the firehouse, prepared speech at the ready: "I've been a good girlfriend to you. I have. I have loved you with all of my heart. But I [expletive, probably "smoked," deleted] up, and even worse I lied about it. And I know you were really upset." Kameelah voice-overs that Jason's prone to major attitude. You think? Back at the front door, he tells her she [smoked] up big time, and wants her to go away. Cut to them outside. She wants to fix what's wrong with their relationship. He doesn't believe that she would ever do "that." Do what? "Hang out with other girls." Doesn't he, like, live with other girls? Speaking of which, we cut briefly to Genesis, who has briefly decided to drop in this week, telling Kameelah, "I can't stand the way he talks to her. I can't stand that."
Segue fun times ahoy! Montana, looking unusually haggard ["What is she, dead?" -- Wing Chun], stands in the living room and announces, "Guess what?" The rest of the present member (Sean, Elka, Genesis, Kameelah) respond distractedly as if to say, "Stop talking, ever. I mean, what?" She holds up her pager, "Vaj just paged me. He said, 'It's over. I don't love you anymore. Love doesn't mean anything. He can have you. You have one month to get your things out of my house before I throw them in the street." She takes her leave of the room and Elka follows. Genesis tells us in a confessional that Montana finally came clean to Vaj about her relationship with Matt, "and that would push any boyfriend over the edge, when he finds out that his girlfriend has been sleeping with somebody else." They all agree that they don't know why Montana would be surprised by this development. Meanwhile, Montana retires to one of the six hundred rooms in the firehouse with nothing more than a phone and a product-placed chair, and picks up the phone. And since this is one of the only truly memorable moments of this season not quite as hypnotizing as the spin of laundry drying, let's get this all down, shall we?
Montana: Vaj.
Vaj: What?
Montana: Listen...
Vaj: WHORE!
Montana: Listen...
Vaj: WHORE!
Montana: Vaj...
Vaj: WHORE!
Montana: Listen, I don't know what I'm gonna do with my stuff. I'm gonna have to come up there and get it.
Vaj: Well, bummer! I feel for you. I deserve a woman that isn't gonna say "Oh, I love you," then tromp off to Boston, immediately get into some hard-core relationship with some other guy...
Montana: Listen, if you're...
Vaj: I'M NOT IN YOUR LIFE ANYMORE!
Montana: If you're in a relationship with...
Vaj: I don't want to be in your life, and you know why? 'Cause you're a SELFISH! WHORE!
Did he say, "Well, bummer"? Big words for a small man with a tiny little name. I guess "You have cooties!" and "You stink, Mr. Poopypants!" got away from him in the pivotal moments of his fiery throes of anger. Oh, but then there's the whole "whore" thing. So I guess he got her pretty good, after all.
And so it goes. And goes and goes and goes. Montana cries (and, alternately, in some other shots, doesn't cry) while Vaj screams a litany of Too Hot for Real World epithets while the rest of the house sits in the living room judging Montana for ever thinking this arrangement could work to begin with. During which you can actually hear the fight taking place in the room, which offers a level of realism not often seen on a season so turgid that so much editing needs to be done to create a little linear drama that a character's hair will change color and style three times during a confessional. Five, if it's Jason. Like I need to explain all of this to you smart people. Montana ends up being the one to hang up the phone first.
Timber has blow-dried her hair and brought Jason a flower. Awwww. She cries some more in the firehouse, telling him that she's given him the benefit of the doubt so many times and now he's just "leaving [her] out to dry." She fills in a very important blank: "You have done this exact thing to me before." Good. At least she knows. Jason characterizes their relationship in voice-over form as "a pain in the ass," and we cut back to them on the bridge to a 'T' stop with Timber hugging him and crying miserably. Cut briefly again to the CCC, where Jason tells us that "something happens between childhood and adulthood." Yeah, it's called "maturity." And the world is still waiting for you to catch up. And back to the firehouse again, Timber begs him once more for Jason not to end the relationship. Pa. Thet. Ic.
Back to the "we get the parallel, now put down the mallet" Montana Situation, Genesis drops by for another cameo to helpfully confessionalize, "I think she genuinely was shocked that Vaj reacted that way, and I think it's really a sad thing that you cannot see this coming from a hundred miles away." Inside, Montana calls Vaj (collect?) and stilted small talk ensues. Finally, Montana gets around to noncommittally apologizing, but worries, "I just don't know, like, when you're gonna blow up about things again." Probably when she moves to another city and cheats on him with another long-term boyfriend. On television. Just sayin'.
Hey, it's Fiona. For such a relatively memorable episode, the music this half-hour has held up remarkably. Maybe I'll make a mix tape of the full versions of all these songs if this episode ever gets around to ending. Cut to Vaj and Montana in New York, talking about "what they're going through now." Can this marriage be saved?
Well, we've been waiting for the cycle-completing irony all day now, so here's where we finally get around to seeing Jason cheat on Timber. Yay. He's in a group of dirty hippie freaks we've never seen before in what looks like a dorm room at Sarah Lawrence after some great interborough nuclear holocaust, with about five guys playing acoustic guitars and howling. Jason doesn't play guitar, I bet. But standing near guys who do play the guitar and talking about music and smoking is akin to playing the guitar, right? There's even a really pretty French word that sums Jason's ability to play the Near Guitar and hang out with guys who think he's cool because he keeps telling them how cool he is. Wait for it: dilettante. Oh, and then he's kissing this ratty hippie girl. He tells us, "It wasn't a big deal. I kissed this girl. Sure, I feel a little guilty now. A little bit. But, with Timber, she kissed a guy, too. So I don't feel so bad about that. 'Cause it's no big deal." Clearly I don't need to waste all of our hard-earned leisure time commenting on the absurdity of this, do I? Didn't think so.
Nighttime in the firehouse, where Jason ties on his hick once more in that awful, awful wifebeater, which at least covers the naughty bits below the chest this time while still unable to conceal the lanky arms that appear in Figure 1-1 under the entry "Ninety-Eight Pound Weakling" in The Official Real World Encyclopedia. Yup, still there. He's on the phone with Timber, telling her never to lie to him again and making her cry all over, ending his preach with the truly unponderable, "If we don't have trust, we don't have anything. Nothing." All of which goes to prove once more the undeniable differences between genders, confirming for a world in the know that men are from Mars, women are from Venus, Timber should be from Betty Ford, and Jason is just a total, total shit.