"I'm not stable and I don't have a career right now. I'm kind of in flux. I can see them being worried," Ian frets, knowing that "Chad, but hotter" does not a successful hometown visit make. "Do you feel like there's more of a risk with a guy like me, who's like...?" Attractive? Not a problem. Urbane? That's fine, if a bit quaint a word. Independently wealthy? Sign me up, preferably on a blank check! What's he worried about? I think it's the fact that he's a spy.
Nighttime in Portland! Ian and Meredith enter the house, Ian carrying a long cardboard box his body language relates to like he's got no idea what's in it. Like one of the producers was like, "You were supposed to bring something, you clueless spy moron." Tonight, Matt is wearing a shimmery silver shirt from the future which means he's only two roller skates, twelve years, and one verse of "Call Me Rusty" too late for the national touring company of Starlight Express. But in a confessional where Matt compares last night's Matthew date to tonight's Ian date (so we know they did air the dates in the correct order), Matt is wearing the first red sweatshirt thing from, now, two days ago. And while I've been wearing the same gray hoodie every single day since I bought at a Gap outlet in Rhode Island last Memorial Day weekend (I took it on our first date to see Down With Love), I'm not wearing that thing more than once ON TELEVISION. It's like this time in 1998 when I was walking out of Penn Station and I saw Star Jones walking out of Madison Square Garden, wearing the same silver, spangly number she was wearing the previous Friday night on Letterman. Now I'm CERTAIN I was wearing the same thing I'd been wearing the previous Friday as well, but what I am also certain about is that I had not been wearing it either time on TELEVISION. And stop looking at me like that. I totally don't watch The View.
"You're from...?" Meredith's mom asks, and Ian, seated next to Meredith on a couch cushion still warm from Matthew's hot Texas ass, responds, "I grew up in Brazil." Meredith's mother sips her wine politely and with a barely-concealed look of "Brazil...What on earth is that?" He's been "in the States" for fourteen years now, and he puts the kibosh on this topic right away with an almost embarrassed, "So, that's a long story." Here's my guess: radical mom. Weather Underground. Defection to south of the border. Spy training for their little boy at the best South American spy school Sao Paolo has to offer. Present day.