For nearly 5 whole seasons of Six Feet Under, Nate's been whinging his way through life completely absorbed in himself and mewling about whether he'll find happiness. Of course, the only way to know if you'll find happiness is to have sex with some of the most loathsome and annoying creatures on earth and whine some more. I know it's worked for me to a degree.
As cold as it may make me sound, when Nate let out his unexpected cry of Narm and hit the floor, I practically squealed with delight, not something I'm generally known to do (at least I hope not). I'm not sure if I was more pleased that it looked to be the end of him (I could spoil it but won't) or that Brenda would find out what he was up to with ferret-y Maggie. No offense, but I would have narmed myself had I just finished heaving myself off of her too.
If you aren't caught up on your Six Feet Under, you may be at a loss to know just what the hell I'm on about or you can simply accept that I may be off my meds. Like poor Billy. Billy. Hmph. The show is all about Claire (and me) anyway.