Agustín is a vegetarian, but he’s got such a boner for CJ that he lets him feed him meat. Agustín tells him he’s an artist and wants to work with CJ, and CJ is like, “Yeah, yeah, that’s what all the artists say because they just want to fuck me,” and suddenly Agustín has hired himself an escort for the night, which is a reasonable thing for an unemployed failed artist to spend a lot of money on. (His rate, if you haven’t forgotten — don’t worry, the writers reminded you with this episode’s title — is $220/hour.)
Patrick expresses concern that Agustín’s life is spiraling out of control, but Agustín ignores him because that one fork of meat has kickstarted some intense GTI problems. In a panic, Agustín demands Patrick take him back to his office so he can take care of his explosive diarrhea. Looks like that meat was a misteak. (Nailed it!) (Don’t blame me, I stole that pun from my friend.) While Doris and some dude she’s friends with wander around the office, gaping at how hip and cool the furniture is, Patrick walks into the bathroom to check in on Agustín. Man, if I had a nickel for every time I stood outside of a toilet stall while my friend took a smelly dump, I would have a ton of nickels and also be an imaginary person, because in no way does that ever happen. Anyway, Agustín admits that he wants to follow CJ around because of the intimacy. “It’s about how paying someone allows you to truly be yourself,” he gaysplains to Patrick, because he’s the kind of person whose brain explodes at that RuPaul quote about how “we’re all really in drag,” or whatever. (This is probably why he’s not very good at making art.)
Kevin comes back to the office to discover Patrick and his pals in various states of leather outfits playing Naval Destroyer or whatever, and they leave awkwardly, heading to the Stud. Patrick, meanwhile, clutches his vest even harder lest his coupled-off work crush see his flat stomach. He throws on another polo shirt and his glasses, and the two do a cute little routine about how Kevin designed a “sexy troll” character, leaving me completely baffled at what kind of video game they’re making now. Patrick gets bored and leaves to join his friends on the set of Cruising, where he busts out that leather vest and pines away while a Sade impersonator sings from the stage.
Agustín’s boyfriend shows up and jumps for joy when he learns that his boo successfully hired CJ for sexing. Then he stares at Doris’s breasts practically squeezing out of her leather corset like yogurt from a tube and says to her, “Look at you! I could cut your face!” She replies, “Ugh! I could douse you in gasoline and light you on fire!” Charming pair, these two. (Fun fact: the word “faggot” comes from the kindling used to burn homosexuals!) “Are we here to talk or are we here to daaaance,” Doris yells, mistaking the scene for an audition for A Chorus Line.
Even Patrick is having a good time until he looks across the crowded bar and spots Richie, his Señor Grande. He walks over to him to say hello, and Richie is cold and distant because the last time they saw each other Patrick was so incredibly rude in the way that he focused most of his attention on his otherness and the possibility of his uncircumcised penis. “Still cut!” Richie tells him, and Patrick gets mopey and says, “Look, that wasn’t me the other night. What you thought I was trying to go for? I’m not looking” — DRINK! — “for that kind of thing.” Naturally, Richie can’t hear him, but sees Patrick’s pretty puppy dog eyes and his perfect body and is like, “OK, let’s slow dance and rub our noses together.”