| By Aaron | Season 3 | Episode 13 | Aired on 2003.06.01 | pg 8 of 18 |
Nate, meanwhile, is still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday as he sits in his apartment and watches Maya playing on the floor. He's also drinking more Budweiser, which is obviously the product placement of the week. If drinking alone on a Sunday morning while you're supposed to be caring for an infant is your idea of a good time, then this Bud's for you, my friend! George appears at the door behind Nate, who grudgingly welcomes George into the room. After getting his own beer out of the fridge, George asks Nate what he's doing. "Watching the baby," Nate replies. I mention that only to make it clear that Nate said "baby" and not "Babe." Which would have been funny, but a little too anvillicious, even for SFU. George then tries to deliver a little spiel about how everyone is worried about Nate, and how Nate needs his family now more than ever, but Nate isn't having it. "You're not going to try and lay some sort of homespun wisdom, instant bonding load of horseshit on me right now, are you?" Nate asks. "Because that would be seriously obnoxious." I'm not absolutely positive about this, but that could very well be the longest "fuck"-free sentence he's managed to string together in this entire episode. Which he immediately spoils by getting up in George's face and shouting, "Fuck you! You can sit in our goddamn TV room and rent movies, you can bone my mother day and night if you want, but don't you dare come in here and act like you're my fucking father. Because you're not. And you never will be." Nate then scoops Maya up off the floor and announces that it's time for her nap. Incidentally, I've completely run out of synonyms for "silent," so unless otherwise noted, you can just assume that the baby didn't make a peep. "I only wanted to..." starts George, but Nate cuts him off. "Just leave me the fuck alone!" he shouts. And while they usually edit around Maya in these fight scenes, she was definitely right there in Nate's arms when he yelled that one. And yet she still didn't make a sound. You know, if I could have a baby like that, I might actually consider having kids. Of course, you'd have to find a way to plug up the other end, too. I'm not really a diaper-changing kind of guy. George sadly sets down his beer and leaves without saying another word. Nate cradles Maya in his arms and whispers an apology for swearing so much. "Fuck you, motherfucker," replies the baby. Fk = 34.
Church. David waits nervously in the lobby, and I don't think anyone was surprised to see that it was Keith he invited to join him. After all, the LWSD II's idea of a relaxing Sunday morning is a mimosa and a gay-themed parlor game.
We then cut to later, with David and Keith sitting in the now empty lobby. "I remember the first time I saw you," reminisces David. "Out there in the parking lot. Getting out of your car, all studly. You looked so intense, the way you pointed your little alarm thingy at the car. Like, 'Fuck you, car. Now you're locked!'" Hee! I've totally been saying that to all the inanimate objects in my apartment this week. "Fuck you, computer. Now you're off." "Fuck you, dishes. Now you're washed." "Fuck you, girlfriend. Now you're inflated." You know, that sort of thing. David also admits that he was stalking Keith a little in the beginning, by timing his arrival so they could pull into church next to each other. When he found out that Keith was a cop, it even made him feel safe. Or maybe he just liked "knowing that [Keith] was strapped to a gun all day." See? Keith'll never be able to escape the Big Black Sex Cop label. It's who he is, people. Keith takes his turn at the nostalgia game, admitting that the first time he saw David he wondered, "Who is that beautiful new white boy?" Aww. David protests (a bit too much, if you ask me), and Keith seems almost surprised when he asks, "Don't you know I think you're beautiful?" "No," whispers David, as a bit of a tremor creeps into his voice. "And kind, and smart, and loving," continues Keith. "You didn't know that?" They both take a moment to ponder the vast communication breakdown in their relationship, and I'm left to wonder what it means that they've made this breakthrough in a church lobby rather than in therapy. Fk = 35.