The Love Proctor is totally the name of my first eight porn films. By the way.
Charlie shows up at the house first with his gay orange bag. The floor is festooned with pillows and a fire rages in the fireplace. Charlie kicks open a bottle of wine and they toast to "last evenings." You got that right, sister. Trista starts to ask, "Now what would you do..." but Charlie cuts her off, thinking that she's asked, "Now what would you do to me...?" Okay. I'm seeing her reasoning more and more here. He tells us, "I want to know if I'm really the one for her," and he tells her, "I want to let myself completely go. I want to let all of my emotions overcome me." But he worries her heart may be in another place, fretting, "I won't know until you make that decision." He goes on that he's had to put "a lot of faith" in the fact that they could "build something everlasting." Trista tells us that it's hard for her to reciprocate, and we cut back to Trista answering his calls of love for her with the similarly romantic "I like blue on you." He gave her his heart and she gave him a pen. Been there. She continues on that she thinks Charlie feels pretty "confident about where he stands," adding, "I didn't feel like he was pushing it too hard." Ew, not like that. Actually, totally like that. They banter for twelve minutes about why he isn't wearing a watch, and when they conclude their spontaneous stage production of Einstein's Dreams, she's running her hand up and down his wrist. "Ooooh, I just love the way you don't wear a watch! You're so sexy with your not-watch-wearing ways. Time is for suckers, no watch is for lovers!" she seems to say. Cut to Charlie lying in front of the fire all splayed out with his shirt rising juuuuuuuust a little too far off his pants. Gack! Get the clippers! "I feel that Trista has her mind made up on who she's going to choose in the last Rose Ceremony," he says. "And I believe truly in my heart that it is myself." Allow myself to introduce myself. Minus the muddled syntax, you've got a nation behind you on that sentiment. More? Oh, very well: "I would be very shocked if I didn't end up being the one that Trista chooses." Keep out the clippers! To trim his hubris!
Dude, my plane is, like, taxiing right now.
Shirtless Ryan! How long has it been since last we've seen you? Let me check my hope chest...says here it's been "way too long!" Hooray, naked Ryan! I just love these outtakes from the set of The Love Proctor! As Trista sets up for her big dinner, Ryan works his way from just his boxer shorts into a pair of pants while rubbing some kind of lotion all over his body (thank you, ABC!) and telling us, "I don't know exactly where I stand in Trista's eyes. I feel like we have the necessary ingredients to continue on after this because I love her, but the problem is I don't know the connection she's made with Charlie as well." Dude, shell-less turtles dangling on live wires over busy freeways are watching this, all, "Wow, I thought I knew what vulnerable meant before." Ryan knocks on the front door of the house and then lets himself in, giving her a big hug and handing her champagne she knew was her "favorite." They prepare dinner as Trista tells us that she's gotten "a lot of signs" from Ryan but is still looking for "a couple more." Again, I hate to quibble, but I have no idea what she's talking about again. "Signs"? Anyway, Ryan tells her that he's almost "relieved" that it would finally be over the following day, and he admits that he always thought he wasn't a person who experienced stress, but that he's feeling it now. He repeats (he said it once before, but I'm not sure I told you) that he was particularly nervous about meeting Trista's father, and Trista reassures him with that cackling laugh I'm coming close to not being able to handle, "You're a little bigger than him." Ryan laughs at that and riffs on the joke, adding, "Look, Stan. Don't get lippy with me, 'cause I'm not above taking you out back." And you can tell it wouldn't be the first time old Stan was threatened in such a way. If the turn in the millennium wasn't even enough to shrink the glasses, I can only imagine how big they were back in his grade-school days when he would try and impress the bully by offering to do his taxes. Loser to the two-hundredth digit.