Oh, look! People in bed! Brenda "The No-Tell Ho-Tell" Chenowith and Nate lie in bed at the seedy Pacific Sands Motel, which the two of them have chosen for its kicky décor, its proximity to numerous parks and beaches, and a continental breakfast where Justin Ther-neaux can finally eat his heart out. They're lying in a post-coital tableau that finds Nate asking Brenda is she's "available next Tuesday," and he laughs and laughs when she responds, "Nate, I told you, this is the last time." He reminds her that she's said that for some weeks now, and chides, "Okay. We'll never talk again. Until you call me tomorrow." She asks somewhat rhetorically why she's doing this, shortly thereafter landing a totally legitimate target: "It's all Joe's fault." Guh? "If only he enjoyed nice, normal perfectly average sex." Nate gets all offended, shooting back, "Wasn't I a little above average back there?" I can only hope that the "back there" refers to a chronology rather than a part of Brenda. But Nate calls her on it, telling her that this has nothing to do with Joe and everything to do with her, noting, "You and Joe move in together, you get scared by the intimacy, you freak out, you have sex outside of the relationship. You can't fool me. I used to be Joe." Oh, God. Between Joe's personality and Nate's hair shirt, Brenda's really found the perfect man. But this bout of deconstructionist pillow talk is quickly abandoned in lieu of Nate's fishing around on the floor for something and explaining to Brenda that he's looking for the condom, adding for clarity's sake, "I dropped it on the floor." Excuse me, concierge? Do you have any rooms available that are not that room. No? What about complimentary slippers in a hermetically sealed bag? Because I don't want little Nates growing out of my feet for the next nine months, is why. Not that it's any of your business. Nate holds the condom up and stares into it, musing, "Sperms. Seems so tiny to be able to do so much." As the philosopher Python noted, "If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate." But these aren't wasted, because Nate's writing poems about them, so they do serve the greater good after all. Maybe Nate should watch a few episodes of Top Model himself sometime. More than anybody who's ever been on either show, it certainly wouldn't kill Peter Krrrrrrrrau-zuh! to be introduced to the theoretical concept of waxing.
Another recapper friend of mine who I won't mention by name to avoid incriminating her (or, y'know, him) just told me she finds it easier to recap shows when they're really good rather than when they're really bad, because at least when there's nothing wrong with it, you can just power through and stick with events as they happened without a painful amount of commentary. When in doubt, this totally incognito person advised, just end a paragraph with "Lorelai is pretty" and you're halfway there.