Remember that song "Let's Talk About Sex?" For some reason, in high school, my friend Eva and I thought it was hysterically funny to translate pop songs into French (generally, we'd do this in Geometry, which really irritated our Geometry teacher, Mrs. Schlosberg), and this was our favorite. Well, second only to "Head Like a Hole," which is really awesome in French. In retrospect, that all sounds quite dorky. It was actually very ironic, I swear. Or something. Too bad I don't remember any of that French whatsoever. Anyway, "Let's Talk About Sex" is the perfect background accompaniment for the opening scene of this week's episode of The Real World , in which Tami, Jon and Beth play a game called "The Facts of Life," which appears to be all about sex rather than about the classic '80s sitcom, more's the pity. Beth asks Jon a question about the nomenclature of the "dark brown area around the nipple." Jon has no idea what that area is called, because they don't talk about the girly bits in Sex Ed in Kentucky. Beth informs him that said area is "the areola." Everyone chortles. "During her reproductive years, will the average woman have intercourse over one thousand, three thousand, or six thousand times?" Beth reads, raising her eyebrows. Dude, no matter what the answer to that question is, I think I'm falling behind the curve. Jon shakes his head. Beth asks Tami how many times she's had sex. Jon hides his face. Tami asks Beth how many times she's "[bleeped] [bleep]." Beth giggles. "How many times in that closet?" Jon asks, pointing at the walk-in closet. Everyone giggles and falls over into the shag carpet and rolls around.
In an interview, Beth tells us she hasn't had sex in a long time. I know there's a joke here, I just can't find it. She then explains that she really wishes she were in a relationship, and that she's interested in a guy in Cleveland and a guy in New York. "Why can't I find somebody in Los Angeles that I like?" she asks rhetorically. I hate to say it, but word, Beth. Dating in Los Angeles is hard.
Beth blows her hair dry with a big defuser and a round brush and tells us that her ex-boyfriend Tony is coming from New York for a little visit. She voice-overs that she "has no idea what [they're] going to do." Well, I could name a few things that Tony probably thinks they're going to do, but this is a family site. Beth twitters that she's nervous about seeing Tony again.
So Beth, accompanied by Glenn, drives her ass over to LAX and picks up the aforementioned Tony, who is, I'm sorry, a hideous display of man. Sullen, ugly baseball cap, horrid facial hair, weak chin. He and Beth embrace. Beth makes a face, like Tony's gone way, way, way downhill since last they met. I'm much more interested in the guy standing behind Glenn, who's wearing, seriously, what looks like a cowboy hat and a black and white wool poncho. I have no idea what's going on there. This is why I love the airport. Freaks everywhere. So entertaining! Also, the duty-free shop. And they always have a lot of magazines at the airport. I love magazines. And Altoids. Oh, and LAX has a cute little Sees Candy near the United Airlines terminal, and they sell those little square suckers that I love. Also, a nifty futuristic bar. You just can't beat the airport.
Beth and Tony wait for Tony's bags. Tony is doing that irritating thing where he just stares, unblinking, at the side of Beth's face, while Beth looks anywhere but at him. She voice-overs that Tony came to Los Angeles sporting his ridiculous facial hair "just because [he] knew it would piss [her] off." I hate to say it, but I suspect that Beth is correct; Tony looks like the passive-aggressive type. Also, because I pray that there's a motivation for that goatee beyond the mere aesthetic.
"What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here," the soundtrack wails as Tony lounges around the house in a too-tight Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt and a bandanna tied around his head. I hate the bandanna around the head. It's not like he's balding; when we see him five minutes later, the bandanna is gone and he has a full head of hair. So what's the deal? Is it to make him look more street, or something? Maybe he doesn't want to muss his coiffure, much like my eighty-year-old Grandma who sleeps on this little ivory satin neck pillow designed so that you can sleep without screwing up your beehive. Beth hustles down the hall in a sweatshirt, with an irritated expression. Tony reads the paper. Tony takes a nap on the sofa. I don't understand Tony. He's staying in a house right on the beach. Why doesn't he stop making aggrieved faces and just go outside? Beth runs down the stairs, holding what looks like her entire wardrobe. She explains that she wasn't looking for a romantic interlude with Tony, but that he had...expectations. Told you. She goes out the sliding glass door as Tony gets up from his perch on the Jon Brennan Memorial Sofa of Slack, looking incredulous. "I felt bad; I had to get these pictures taken. But he got mad. He got really mad. But there was nothing I could do about it!" Beth says in an interview, shrugging and smiling sweetly. "I had to get my head shots done!"
Outside, Beth gets in her car. Tony talks at her through the passenger-side window, until she rolls it up in his face, mid-sentence, and drives off. Dude, burn. "Run, run, run, ruuuuuuuun awaaaaaaay," the soundtrack wails. Tony stands in the middle of the road like a moron and looks impotent. Life is hard for the men who love Beth. ["That is true on so many levels." -- Wing Chun]
So, Tony just packs up all his shit and leaves. Beth, in an interview, comments that if Tony is happy "the way he is now," then...passive-aggressive shrug. Later, in the kitchen, she tells Tami that Tony used to be all clean-cut, and now that he's gone all grunge, she just finds him disgusting. Well, she isn't that direct about it, but it's basically the gist.
Later, in the pool room, Jon asks Tami whether she'd give up all the sex she's ever had if she could be a virgin again. Tami gives him a "girl, please" look, and Jon sort of stumbles around. Tami saves him by admitting that she would give up "everything" if she could find a man who was "the one" and if he could be the only person she'd ever had sex with. Jon nods thoughtfully.
Tami then tells us that there is someone she's very, very, very interested in. The Hip, Squiggly Font of Introduction (tm Djb) tells us that this guy she's interested in is named Tootie. Man. That must have been just brutal for him during the Facts of Life years. I wonder how many people asked him where his roller skates were, or how Blair was. "We stick together," Tami says, of her relationship with Tootie. I guess they take the good, they take the bad, they take them both. ["There you have it." -- Wing Chun]
Aaron tells the camera that Tami is "the most settled" in a relationship, of all his roommates. Jon says that Tami is the only person in the house "that he knows of" who's in a relationship.
Tami and Tootie go to the San Diego Zoo. They frolic amidst the caged animals and sunburned tourists. Schmoopiness ensues. Tootie is about six feet shorter than Tami. Sadly, Tami tells the camera that her "ideal mate would be very tall." Poor Tootie. Her ideal mate would also be, she says, someone "very attractive, [with] a sense of humor, who didn't argue with [her]." Tootie and Tami walk around the park and playfully bait one another. Tootie calls Tami ugly. Nice thing to say to a girl who had her jaw wired shut, Señor Sensitivo. Tami chortles and says "that's the pot calling the kettle black." They look at the pink flamingos. Then Tami, in an interview, says some boring stuff about marriage, and opines that Beth will probably be the first person in the house to tie the knot.
Clearly, this is because Beth is so domestic. Look, she's wearing a long flowered tunic-like top and baking cookies! Somebody get a ring on this girl! Beth explains that she's making cookies for her friend Tim, who lives in Cleveland. "I met him over December," Beth explains. "He's a great guy. I really like him." Apparently, folks, baking cookies for someone means you want to have sex with him or her. In a confessional, Beth says that Tim is "really hot. Really hot." She wants to tell him how she feels, she says, but she's afraid to. She sits in the phone niche, twirls her hair around her finger, swings her loafer-clad foot, and giggles. "What do you want me to say?" she chortles into the phone.
Well, turns out Tim is angling for an invite to the beach house, which he gets. Beth and Jon go pick him up at the airport. Tim looks sort of like a chubbier Paul Rudd. He's way more clean-cut than Sullen Tony, that's for sure. Beth giggles like a schoolgirl, and the two of them stare at the luggage carousel.
Then Beth takes Tim on what I guess is supposed to be the definitive tour of Los Angeles, which appears to consist of Universal Studios, the freeway, the inside of a car, some disastrous skiing, the freeway again, and the hot tub. Okay, so that's actually not that far off the mark, minus the snow. Add in Disneyland and the beach, and there it is. Also, the homeless people. And a few movie stars. And the Coffee Bean. And maybe some shopping. And the world-champion Lakers (as a third-generation Los Angeleno and lifelong Laker fan, no one can call me a bandwagon jumper, either)! And...okay, I guess that's it. ["Baja Fresh?" -- Wing Chun] Beth voice-overs that she thinks Tim likes her. She's not sure. The two of them sit in silence on opposite sides of the hot tub. Beth stares at Tim. The steam from the water wilts the lower half of her coiffure. "I want to do you," the soundtrack helpfully illuminates. After five minutes of sitting there like bumps on a log, Beth and Tim get out of the hot tub without a word and trudge into the house. Beth voice-overs that if she and Tim were living in the same city, they'd be dating. But, you know, long distance is tough! Yes, Beth, life is very, very hard, and sometimes, even homemade cookies cannot lure a man to your bed.
Inside, Jon wonders where Beth and Tim have gone off to. Cut to Beth opening the closet door upstairs, staring at the cameraman for a moment, and then shutting the door. Weird sounds come from behind the closed door. It doesn't really sound like they're having sex in there. It sounds more like someone is being scalped.
Pool room. Tami gets a phone call. She doesn't even say hello. "Are you yelling? Because if you're yelling, I'm hanging up. I found someone else to go with me. Are you listening? Because I'm not going to sit around like a damn fool." Slam. Tami makes a face. In an interview, she tells the camera that she and Tootie broke up. They had differences. They had arguments. "Lately, it hasn't been a very pleasantful [sic] relationship," Tami explains. The editors toss in a B-roll shot of Tootie looking sad. Wow, and I was so sure those two kids were going to make it!
Dom and Aaron are shocked (shocked!) that Tami and Tootie split up. Are they kidding? His name is Tootie. Aaron's mouth literally hangs open. Dom makes an exaggerated sad face. In the confessional, Tami admits that she doesn't "foresee" marriage for herself. She sadly admits that she's never going to get close to getting married. She doesn't think she will. She really doesn't. She's destined to be a lonely spinster. Sad, crazy, old Aunt Tami, living in the attic. "Don't go upstairs, children. Aunt Tami is upstairs. She doesn't like children. She's crazy because she never got married. Let's get on our knees and say a prayer for crazy Aunt Tami, who never, never got married, because she doesn't know how to love!" Did I mention that I went to a wedding shower this weekend, where I was twice asked when I was going to get married, and told, three times, that I was ""? This is that period of life you read about, isn't it? That period in which people start to wonder when you're getting married. I suppose it's better than the period directly afterwards, in which people wonder why you're not married. I mean, if you care about any of that stuff. Although I guess it would be irritating even if you don't care. It might be more irritating, because some people might not understand why you don't want to get married, if you don't. What's that? The Real World? Oh, right.
This is the part with Aaron's Cavalcade of Women. Aaron very seriously sits on a chair and piously explains that he believes in "quality, not quantity" when it comes to women. The Bunim-Murray editors twitter girlishly and cue up the montage of Aaron dancing at a party, surrounded by four girls; Aaron talking to the Budweiser girl; Aaron socializing with six rapt undergraduates at a frat party. Aaron solemnly tells the camera that he will not compromise his high standards -- not in dating, not in anything. Montage of Aaron buying two girls drinks; Aaron dancing with three girls; Aaron writing some girl's number on his hand. Aaron says in an interview that he will not compromise! He will be patient. Sometimes, though, he, sadly, sadly, sadly feels like he will never meet the right girl. Not for lack of trying, though, as proved by a montage of Aaron shaking a girl's hand; Aaron laughing at a girl in the living room of a sorority house; a girl on the beach house sofa; another girl on the sofa; yet another girl on the sofa, all gazing wide-eyed at Aaron's blond Adonis-like form and commanding grasp of supply-side economics.
Aaron lolls on the sofa in the living room and says to Jon that Aaron is "too picky" when it comes to women. Jon rolls his eyes. They have a conversation about the set-up Aaron had last week. Aaron can't even remember the poor girl's name. Jon cracks up. "It's only been a week!" he says. "You're a crack addict, it hasn't been a week," Aaron retorts. Jon laughs and laughs at him. These two scenes have taught us that Aaron is a hypocrite and a whore. I mean that in the nicest possible way.
"I look forward to having sex," Jon says in an interview, and then I turn to stone. He virginally opines that sex must be enjoyable, since it seems like everyone in the house is doing it "like rabbits." But, he points out, looking pained, according to the Bible, pre-marital sex is wrong, wrong, wrong. On the other hand, he says, it's becoming harder and harder to stay pure and good. Jon smiles. "Those girls at the Borderline are fine," he admits. I've never been to the Borderline, but one of my friends goes there sometimes, and she's a babe, so I believe him. Anyway, this cues up the classic Bunim-Murray montage of Hot Babes at the Beach. I'd like to point out that while I do think Los Angeles has a higher percentage of good-looking residents than some other places -- mostly because there are so many freaking actors living here -- Los Angeles beaches are generally packed with totally, totally normal people with all kinds of different bodies. It is so not Baywatch, I don't even know what to tell you. Jon doesn't know how to approach these particular Babraham Lincolns, however. "What do you do, go over and say, 'Hey, baby, you got a nice bod'?" he asks, giggling. No, Jon. No. You don't. Please, don't ever say that, ever again. On behalf of the women of America, I thank you.
Inside the Walk-In Closet of Sin, Jon peers inside a green hat. "You paid thirty-six bucks for this?" he asks. "Is it gold?" Heh. That was funny. Tami chortles. "Screw you, Jon Brennan," Beth says quietly. "Well, this is the right place for it," Jon says, grinning. "It is the closet, " Tami offers. Beth makes an offended face.
In an interview, Tami squeals that "someone had oral sex in the closet." Beth stands on the balcony and squeals and stamps her feet. Turns out she told Jon that she gave Tim a blowjob in the closet, to sort of tease Jon, but, she swears, it is not true! It's not! It was a joke! Beth is all bright red. "She told us she did it, and now she's trying to deny it. But she did it," Tami pronounces, looking like the cat that ate the canary. So to speak. Then there's a montage of Beth giggling and squirming and denying everything. It may not be true. After all, Jessica Wakefield never blew anyone in a closet. The back of Bruce Patman's car, maybe. Or in the bathroom at one of Lila's parties. But not a closet in her own home. That's disgusting! Beth tries to change the subject in one of her interviews by saying that she knows of some people in the house who are having sex. Want to know who they are?
Cut to Dom with his ex-girlfriend and current writing partner Tracy, working the crowd at some social event. They're still really good friends, Dom sighs. At one point, he says, he thought he had it all, because he was having sex with his best friend. But, then, he explains, he got "kind of bored and kind of antsy" and wanted to move on. I'm impressed that Dom and Tracy are still working together successfully, although perhaps the breakup was more mutual than Dom is letting on. Frankly, I think it would be difficult to have a writing partnership with someone you'd broken up with. Writing is such a personal thing, such a solitary profession, involving so much emotion. Post-breakup, I think it would be hard to let your guard down enough to really create something. On the other hand, Dom and Tracy are writing music reviews. I guess that's not exactly the same thing as writing the Great American Novel. I don't think it's even possible to write a novel with a partner. Okay, all that stuff I said up there about emotion and opening up and the solitary path of the writer, and starving and living in garrets where rats chew on your candles and nibble on your pencils, and then you die of consumption? Forget that. Dom thinks he's too immature for a committed relationship. "I need to go out and experience more life. More women," he says. Well, at least he's honest.
Dom plays tennis with some blonde chippy who kicks his ass. "Obviously, I'm only playing tennis to get in bed with Brooke," he admits. Dom cracks me up. "She's beaten me every time. I even lost twenty dollars to her, once," he admits. That Dom! It's almost like he's paying for sex! Dom flirts with Brooke. In an interview, he opines that he doesn't believe in forcing relationships. Also, he points out, he has lots of women hanging all over him. So, if he doesn't get it on with Brooke, there'll be another woman coming along any minute. Like a bus.
The bus is named Karen. Karen and Dom ride Dom's motorcycle up and down Pacific Coast Highway. There is a lot of filler in this episode. This current filler involves lots of shots of a motorcycle and the coast and hair blowing around in the wind. "It's a lot more fun with two people riding the bike. Holding on tight, that thing vibrating between their legs," Dom smirks in an interview.
, Banthony takes Jon to a gay rodeo. Jon is confused by the rationale behind the gay rodeo. What part of it, exactly, is gay? he wonders. The riders? The cows? Sweet, innocent Jon Boy. That question is never specifically, answered, though, both because the question is dumb and because it's time to talk about Banthony now. We've already covered Jon's sex life, anyway, it being non-existent. Banthony wears a rodeo-friendly plaid top in an interview and smiles beatifically. "What makes me happy is to be with women. What makes me whole is to be with women," she says. Really? I did not know that. At the rodeo, people square dance. Banthony voice-overs some boring stuff about learning to take care of herself and becoming independent after breaking up with her girlfriend. Not having a girlfriend has affected her sex life greatly, she says, and at the same time, she's still perfectly satisfied. This is the part where we're all introduced to the weird relationship Banthony has with Glenn, where they're totally schmoopy and they wrestle and pick each other's boogers and sleep, legs intertwined, her head on his chest, on the sofa, like no friends I've ever seen. Each roommate, in turn, shoots them a disgusted look. "We're friends," Banthony says of her relationship with Glenn. She thinks she's helping him to get over his insecurities about women by introducing him to lesbians, because there's no way sex or sexual tension will muck up the works. Instead, he can get to know these women as people. In the confessional, Tami wrinkles her nose. "I just don't get [Banthony]," Tami says. "She's humping all over Glenn. That's...weird to me." Frankly, it's a little weird to me, too. I have a lot of friends and I don't take naps in their arms.
Time to visit Aaron again. He's met this girl, Heather, at school, and she's really groovy! She's smart! She's pretty! She has good values! She comes over to the beach house and helps him make shish kebabs! Aaron is sad, he says, that he met someone so close to graduation. Because, at UCLA, if you carry on a relationship with someone you met while at college after the conclusion of the graduation ceremony, the alumni association will hunt you down and kill you in the street. "It's weird how time can really suck," Aaron opines. What a beautifully expressed sentiment.
The housemates have a party. It's quite Bacchanalian: drinking; barbecue; drinking; bikinis; a Perch performance; more drinking; more Perch; kill me. Glenn does that thing where he screams tunelessly into a microphone and jumps up and down. The guests all look horrified. "Even if people hate us, they still stand there in awe, like, what is this? Like, ew," Glenn explains, and I couldn't have said it better myself. Jon sits down with his gee-tar and jams with Perch. Elsewhere in the house, Dom is getting busy. "Dom seemed to be having a rendezvous with three women, like, by accident," Glenn says. It's like that Brady Bunch episode in which Marcia has two dates on the same night. "It's like girls and guys and beer," Jon says of the party. Sounds like my first two years in college. Thank you folks, I'll be here all week! Don't forget to tip your waitress! Upstairs, Dom admires his collection of condoms. He and one of the girls leave. Then come back. Then they're back on the street, making out again? I have no idea what's happening, here. The editing is, surprisingly, confusing and possibly misleading. Eventually, Jon gets sick of all this godless partying, and wants people to go home. But it's too late for an organized dismissal of guests. To bastardize a quote from the brilliant VH-1 show Bands on the Run, it's drunk-thirty. Dom, in particular, is wasted. He's singing into one of Perch's microphones, and somehow accidentally smacks himself in the face with it. Then he falls over. Upstairs on the landing, Glenn starts sucking face with some random girl. Someone falls into the hot tub. It is like an episode of Bands on the Run! Jon looks around like he's thinking about calling the police on his own party. Post-microphone-face incident, Dom passes out in Jon's bed. Sadly, when one of his many women returns, he's too shitfaced to pull himself out of his stupor. Finally, Jon manages to herd the crowd out of the beach house. He looks relieved.
The day, the roommates clean and clean and clean and clean. There's nothing worse than the day-after cleaning binge. Unless you're one of those organized people who clean after everyone leaves in the middle of the night instead of falling into bed without even washing your face, the morning after a party you inevitably find yourself dumping bottle after half-filled bottle of warm beer into heavy garbage bags, scraping onion dip off the carpet, dumping plastic cups of strange mixed beverages into the sink, and finding bottle tops in your underwear drawer. And it's invariably ninety degrees and you have a horrible headache and a paper to write, and your hair smells like cigarette smoke and there's a strange man sleeping on your couch. Whoops, I went to a whole other place there. Anyway, Dom sits shirtless at the breakfast bar and is happy that none of his women ran into any of his other women. Then he realizes that he still didn't get laid and his face falls, hilariously. Upstairs, Beth clears bottles off the roof and sighs that she "doesn't know what's going on with men." Banthony cleans off the coffee table and claims that she's too busy for a social life. Glenn sits in a chair and tells the camera that hugging and talking to Banthony is "romance," as far as he's concerned. Yes, except for the part where she doesn't ever want to have sex with you, Glenn. ['That's probably about as far as he gets with straight women, anyway, so I'm not surprised he can't tell the difference." -- Wing Chun] John washes the counters in the kitchen and tells us that he wants to get married and have a family. Aaron sits on the stairs and informs the camera that it would take a whole lot for him to fall in love with any girl. Dom leans against a wall and admits that he's not emotionally willing to give himself to an adult relationship. And Tami? Tami is just so confused. Aren't we all?