Dawson's Creek
In A Lonely Place

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In A Lonely Place

Radio Station Of My Pain. Audrey and The Beard are talking about Pacey. The Beard implores Audrey to pour her heart out to him, and swears that his advice will be totally neutral. Audrey rolls her eyes and recrosses her legs and lists off all the reasons that Pacey is "totally inappropriate," which is a very short list, and then finally explains her whole Bad Karma Theory, telling The Beard that she made a deal with God on Friday night, promising to give up Pacey if Joey was "really okay," following her mugging. Then she sighs that her relationship with Pacey is just too easy. And therefore, it wasn't right. The Beard doesn't point out that God isn't a bookie and doesn't make a whole lot of deals, but just says that maybe the ease of her relationship with Pacey is the sign she's been looking for. Audrey looks thoughtful. Whatever. Please, don't make Audrey and Pacey all mopey and whiney. Audrey is all I have to hold onto, my cheerful port in the storm of angst that is this stupid show. Please, don't take that away from me! Writers, are you listening? Hellllllllo? Crap.

Elsewhere, The Wig and Jen are still talking about The Music. And Passion. And Art. Christ, this entire arc is so stupid. Basically, Jen seems to be thinking about her relationship with Dawson, and whether it's sufficiently passionate. Let's move on.

Non-Gay Gay Bar. Food Critic and Pacey are still bantering. But Pacey has something to tell him. "I'm not…totally…totally, uh…" he stutters. "Available?" Food Critic guesses. Pacey is all, yes! "You seem very together," Food Critic says, nodding at Jack. "And we are," Pacey says, throwing his arm around Jack. Jack just looks amused. Food Critic gets up and takes out his wallet. "If you guys ever break up, give me a call sometime," he says, and hands his card…to Jack. Pacey's mouth drops open, so offended is he. "I think that I should be insulted on several levels," he yelps as soon as Food Critic is out of the frame. "Except you're not gay," Jack points out. Pacey says that he knows that, and Jack knows that, but Food Critic didn't. "So far as he's concerned, you're MY BOYFRIEND!" Pacey yells. Hee. Jack just chuckles.

Movie theatre. Joey sits in the dark and looks real bored. She sees Creepy leaving the theatre. Dawson watches her watch him. Then Joey gets up and follows Creepy outside. Dawson makes an amused face.

Lobby. Joey. Creepy. He says he saw her when she came in with the Beek. "Should I be jealous?" he asks. "Are you jealous?" Joey asks. "Like Medea," he says in yet another half-baked literary comparison, since Joey and Creepy have no children to murder in a jealous rage. I would have gone with Othello, but that's just me. Joey insists that Dawson is just a friend. Creepy takes this moment to make sure that Joey knows he has sex with his date. Sex! "Why are you telling me this?" Joey asks. I would have said, "Dude, Creepy, you are intensely retarded," and stomped off, never to speak to him again, but I'm also the girl who once broke up with a guy by giving him the "whatever" hand sign (in my defense, it was, like, 1997) and stomping off. He deserved it, though. "To get you to hate me," Creepy says. "It's working," Joey snarks. "So what IS the best ending in all of literature?" Joey asks, then snips that he better not say Ulysses, since everyone says Ulysses. Creepy shrugs and says it's easy. The correct answer is Sentimental Education, by Flaubert, which, he says, is all about "the best thing that never happened" to the protagonists. Okay, the best ending in ALL OF LITERATURE? Flaubert? Sentimental Education? Not. Creepy goes on to explain this particular theory of Flaubert's, which is basically that the anticipation of getting what you want is always more satisfying than actually having it. I learned that this particular line of thought was most famously expressed by Keats in "Ode on a Grecian Urn," which pre-dates Flaubert by almost fifty years, but…man, I am a giant English major dork, aren't I? I'm sorry. No more literature talk. "That sounds…" Joey starts. "Deep?" Creepy asks. "Cowardly," she says. He sniffs. "Us academics aren't generally known for our --" Creepy begins, but Joey silences him by giving him a big old kiss. "Courage," she finishes for him. "Wow," he says. "CRAM IT," I say. "God's really punishing me, here," Creepy mutters.

"We don't know each other very well," Joey says, and then tells Creepy that while his image of her as a 19th-century heroine isn't entirely accurate ["because it's incredibly patronizing and sexist -- not that that's ever bothered her in a man before, God knows" -- Sars], she prefers that he believe it. Because she is a heroine! A saint, and a heroine. She's like Joan of Arc, with nicer pants and fewer voices in her head. "I think that can be arranged," Creepy says, smiling at her sadly. "Are we okay here?" he asks, after they stare at each other for fifteen more minutes. "We're fine," Joey smiles. "In five years, you're going to know everything I know, and more," Creepy says as he backs away from her. " And I will seem like the biggest dork you ever met." In five years? "Or maybe I already do," he corrects himself. Joey shakes her head kindly. And Creepy walks out of her life. And mine. At last. And hopefully FOREVER.

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