The man in question is playing pool with Mike down at Woody's, while Ted and Emmett mercilessly tease Mike about Dr. Dave. Mike protests that David isn't his boyfriend; they've only gone out a couple of times. Emmett says that there are three ways to tell: one, if Dave brings Mike flowers; two, if he invites Mike to go away for a weekend in the country, and three, if Dave meets Mike's mom and she invites him over for dinner. Clumsy foreshadowing. Nothing new. Moving on. At that last bit, Mike nearly puts the cue through the pool table, bouncing the ball onto the floor. That was a total rip-off of that scene from The American President, when Michael Douglas and Martin Sheen are playing pool, and Martin Sheen tells Michael Douglas that Annette Bening called. I guess if you're going to rip off something, you might as well rip it off from something good. So, the ball bounces off the table, and Justin, walking in, catches it. Mike gives him a sour look. Justin ignores everyone else and saunters about three inches away from Brian's face. Brian makes his usual lame "Justin is young" joke. Justin proclaims that he just got a nipple ring, and Brian sneers, "Any piece of trash has got something stuck through their ear or their nose, or their cock. What makes you think that I'm even remotely interested that you've got a ring stuck through your tit?" Justin's elation falters some. Mike, grumpy, gets his coat to leave. Brian tells Mike not to forget about this upcoming Friday. Justin eagerly asks what Friday is. Ted and Emmett happily chorus, "Studs and Suds." Studs and Suds is a Babylon ritual, wherein they flood the floor with suds, and everyone dances around in their underwear -- or less, Emmett adds. "It's disgusting," Ted grimaces. "See you there?" Emmett asks him. "Can't wait," Ted replies. Me, neither, man. Studs and Suds: Where Dirty HDGBs go to get clean. Sign me up, baby! Brian snaps that Michael had better be there; Mike tells him he will be. "Guess who's head over heels?" Emmett snickers. "Or heels over head," Ted snorts. They giggle all the way out of the bar. Justin, surprised, asks Brian whether Michael has a boyfriend. Brian snaps that it's none of his business, and then, tweaking his still-sore nipple rings, adds, "Don't stick your tit in where it doesn't belong."

At the Taylor Manse, Craig walks into Justin's room. Okay, there's a poster of a naked man on the back of the bedroom door, so Welcome to the World. Craig apprehensively peers into the room, and then walks in. The camera pans around; usual teenage stuff, other than a wall-long collage made up of magazine cut-outs of various parts of men on the wall. It kind of jars against the American flag stuck on the art-deco desk, but I guess Justin hasn't really had time to focus on interior design yet. Cut to: Brian and Justin having sex on Brian's bed. And I mean SEX: nose to the mattress, totally naked, grinding, groaning, moaning, artistically lit sex. Cut back to Justin's dad, going through Justin's drawers, and finding gay/gay porn magazines. Cut back to the overly graphic sex, which is making me blush deeply. Cut to Justin's dad, and you can, like, hear the sex moaning through all his shots. Craig finds Justin's sketchbook, and stops in horror at three pages of penis studies. "Penis studies." That sounds weird. You know what I mean. Let me just get through this before I run screaming away from the keyboard, okay? Cut back to Brian and Justin finally coming. Cut back to Craig, distraught. Cut back to me, just happy that it's finally over.