"A woman is unstoppable after she realizes she deserves better."
-Pinterest Proverb

-

The next morning, we went to grab breakfast (at McDonald's), and he asked if I had time to hang out with him a bit. We went thrifting, he walked me to the bus stop, and kissed me goodbye. He told me to text him when I got home safely, and I left the date thinking that it was the beginning of something cool.

Emerson: I don't think its going to work out between the two of us

And when I got that text, a few days later, after radio silence and nothing from him, I honestly was like whatever.

(You know, after I was like "how the fuck did I get dumped by someone who's not even my fucking boyfriend?!")

And yeah, I was attracted to him, and yeah we were having fun...but something just felt off.

The fact that I paid for his McDonald's breakfast (and who takes a girl to get McDonald's breakfast), the fact that he had nothing in his fridge except for beer and...old Little Caesar's pizza, the crappiest pasta I've ever had in my life... it...it just wasn't what I envisioned. It's not what I imagined for myself and not what I wanted for myself. Yeah, I was ready to consider dating again, but I didn't want to date Emerson.

You know, especially after he dumped me.

Smoking on the daily, having random ragers at any possible moment, having no idea what he was doing with his life (not in a cute, millennial way), being careless, and having no idea about anything...I just couldn't see myself fitting in his life.

And more importantly, I couldn't see him fitting in my life.

I dated the guy who didn't try, and got by. And it ended up terribly. And so, to date the guy who doesn't try, that has no idea what he's going, and smokes day and night, I just can't see myself dating him. He treats the random jacket that he found at Potbelly like gold, he can't even buy his own condoms like an adult and gets them given to him by his friends. Emerson's a slacker, he's careless, and even though in the moment things were fun and unexpected, he's not for me.

Blair: You should have just been straight up
Emerson: I am

Not to be a total Johnson Baker--but he wasn't. The way he acted was not like he wasn't interested. You know, except for the shitty pasta he fed me, the lazy ass Netflix date, and the fast food breakfast (can you believe I thought that was cute for a brief second in my life?!)

Blair: I meant after we hung out
Emerson: We weren't talking so I figured you knew

(We had been a little, I just thought he was leaving me alone because I had so much going on).

I screenshotted the conversation, and sent it to Serena.

Blair: To be honest I can't date someone that makes shitty pasta, thinks McDonald's breakfast is legit, and smokes day and night so I'm kinda glad.

Literally, he didn't add anything except to the hard-ass noodles besides cold-ass sauce.

Serena: Let's go key his car. What a dick.
Serena: But I mean you could do without shitty pasta and Mcds breakfast. Everyone could do without it.
Blair: YES. And CLOUDS of marijuana.
Serena: UGH who wants that? Only a pot head would think Mcds breakfast is legit, that makes sense now.
Blair: And how he kept the free jacket he found at Potbelly's.
Serena: EW. K. Lol fuck him. Radio silence him and block the number.
Blair: Sashmi was like "fwb him?" and I was like "not worthy." Lol he found an orchid and coral ombre jacket at Potbelly's and it's his prized posession.
Serena: Ew definitely not worthy of FWB. Please don't.
Blair: AND he loves Little Caesar's.
Serena: Emerson why. He's not Blair worthy. Ick okay.

My other friends had felt the same way..

Sashmi: What a cunt. You don't need him.
Blair: I will admit that I like having sex with him.
Sashmi: Ask him if he wants to be FWB?

Although he fit the attractive, no respect thing, he just...as bad as it sounds, I just didn't think he was worth sleeping with again.

Blair: He doesn't get the honor of fucking me again. 

Subtle, Blair.

Blair: To be honest I can't date someone that makes shitty pasta, thinks McDonald's breakfast is legit, and smokes day and night so I'm kinda glad.
Sashmi: EWWWWW HE WAS A SMOKER?
Sashmi: How about no, Blair?

And the thing is, I wasn't even mad. The only permanent damage done to me was the pain in my neck that hadn't gone away (he thought that grabbing me by the neck was cute), the permanent damage to my stomach lining that his shitty-ass pasta did, and the damage to my lungs from being in Emerson's crack house.

But on the emotional front, I was just fine. I had some pretty great sex, and he was fun company while it lasted. But the best part about Emerson was that I discovered that I was capable of liking someone, of having a crush, and of having my heart beat faster after everything that happened. And the fact that I literally just shrugged it off, and chalked it up as an experience, it showed me how much stronger and resilient I had become in such a short amount of time.

When Rafael faked kidney failure, fucked me, and then tried to ditch me, I completely flipped and sent some pretty immature texts... and it actually kinda sucked! But now, I am perfectly fine, and to be honest, the shitty pasta story, it makes for a good one.

If we had gone on dates, it would have been fun...but ultimately, I would have felt like this wasn't what I wanted. I would have felt like I was settling, and like I was misplaced. I don't belong in a crack house, and I don't eat shitty pasta, and I don't want to wear a jacket that Emerson probably stole from someone at Potbelly.

It's Not The 1960's Anymore

"She wasn’t exactly sure when it happened. Or even when it started. All she knew for sure was that right here and now, she was falling hard and she could only pray that he was feeling the same way."

-Nicholas Sparks

-

Okay--Chuck's friends were the worst. They were fucking assholes, and the absolute worst. I mean, yeah, a big part of it was because of the whole slut-shaming incident of freshman year, but they never treated me with respect and were always total assholes.

So, when it came to meeting a guy's friends, I was a little nervous. And when it came to meeting Emerson's friends on the first date...I was pretty nervous.

I looked in the mirror, making sure that I wasn't walking around with major sex hair or anything.

I'm going to fast forward through the whole meeting the friends thing. Basically, after politely telling me that I shouldn't feel pressured to smoke, and asking me permission (okay, I thought this was cute) if he could smoke, Emerson and his friends smoked. I sat there, trying to be the cool, breezy hot girl, and talking to his friends. They all seemed to really, really like me, and to think that I was this bad ass bitch.

As the room filled with smoke, spontaneous, ya girl started laughing--uncontrollably.

I have only smoked once in my entire life. It's this infamous story about how I was extremely drunk in a bright red leather miniskirt, standing on a balcony, at a frat house in the straight-up hood. And as I took a hit out of the shadiest weed in the entire world, young Elizabeth Bui decided that she fucking hated it, and then threw it off the balcony, where it landed into the bushes. I have never seen guys run faster than in that exact moment.

"Are you okay?" Emerson asked, looking at me. I continued laughing uncontrollably, and swaying awkwardly back and forth. And then kept on laughing, non-stop.

"Blair?"

I managed to stifle my laughter for approximately three seconds, before I managed to blurt out, "Yeah, Emerson?"

"You're high," Emerson said, laughing. "You're definitely high--I told you that you'd get contact high."

-

I walked into Emerson's room for a second, as I needed to get a breath of fresh air. After being in his room by myself for like, six seconds, Emerson showed up.

"What's up? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to get some air." I admitted, as Emerson laid down on his bed.

"Some fresh air, huh?" It was pretty obvious that the entire living room was clouded and blanketed in cannibis. Emerson laughed for a second. "Come here, Blair."

I pointed at the jacket from earlier, and laughed (please note that I was definitely still high). "I want this."

"Everyone wants that girly-ass jacket," Emerson said. "Everyone."

"You should give it to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's my birthday Sunday, remember?" I said, laying on the edge.

"That's a pretty good reason."

"Move over," I laughed, as Emerson gave me a sly-ass smile.

"You come closer," Emerson said, as I started to roll off the bed. Yes, ya girl was so high that she had seemed to have lost motor control, as I rolled off Emerson's damn bed, and my body hit the carpet. It was a face-plant even more epic than Cher from Clueless. 

"Come pick me up," I laughed, as Emerson laughed from on the bed.

"I got you," he said, pulling my arm upwards. I forget how I ended up on the bed, but somehow I did.

"So you're going to give me that jacket?" I asked, laughing once more.

"You really want it? I'd rather get you something else for your birthday." I looked at him, to see if he was serious.

"You're going to get me something for my birthday?"

"Yeah, I will."

"And this isn't some bullshit where you're just saying so and you don't?"

"Nope, I'll get you something."

I was genuinely impressed, and for a brief second I felt bad that Emerson and I had started hanging out so close to my birthday, I mean, that's kind of awkward.

"You're hot," I said back. I don't know what possessed me to say that, but I did. Stupid, high, cannibis injected Elizabeth Bui. Apparently I couldn't control my mouth, or my motor skills at that point.

"You didn't hear me," I responded, as I pulled the blanket upwards.

"I did," he whispered, "You said I was hot."

"NO I DIDN'T!" I pulled the covers over, and was basically hiding at this point.

"You're cute as fuck," Emerson said, "But I definitely heard you."

"Speaking of my birthday, you should come next week to my birthday bar crawl."

"Yeah, Blair?" Emerson asked, wrapping an arm around me.

"Yeah, I'm going to look cute as fuck in my sparkly skirt, and my friends are gonna be there..."

"Alright, I'll be there," Emerson said.

"Ali is gonna be there too," I laughed.

"You have to be honest with him or else you're going to end up sucking his dick for that internship."*****

*****more on this later

"Nah, he'll be okay."

"Leading him on," Emerson said, laughing.

-

Okay, so I don't really remember how we got in between each conversation, but I remember segments and me laughing because I was so damn high.

***REMEMBER that we were fucking high and I couldn't shut up.

-

"You just have to feel sparks and attraction for someone, you know what I mean?" I said, as we laid there, on his bed.

"No, yeah, I get it."

"It's like there's so many types of love out there, and you can't define love based on what someone else feels. Because every love is different. You can only base it on what you feel."

-

"It's harder dating being the girl," I said, as we cuddled on his bed.

"Definitely harder being the guy, it's so easy for girls to meet people."

"Yeah, but it's harder because guys are shady. Girls have to watch what they do, like they can't fuck someone because then the guy won't want to date them and shit like that. That's why people say not to fuck on the first date."

"It's not the 1960's anymore, if you both want it, it's fine. You know, it doesn't even really change things."

"Plus, so many of my friends think the guy doesn't want to date them because they had sex... but that's not the case. If the guy was shitty before, sex isn't going to change that."

"Yeah, but girls change their minds and girls are shady too."

-

"My friends say I date like a guy, every guy I've dated have been like 'what are we?' but I don't really find the need to define things, as long as you're both into each other and enjoying each other's company. I mean, things define themselves over time, and there's no need to rush, if you just wanna enjoy things."

"Girls actually never want to date me," Emerson admitted, as we laid there.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, they never seem to do."

"I find that hard to believe," I responded.

And the crazy thing is, for the first time, in a long time, your favorite sassy ass man eater actually found herself liking someone. Genuinely liking someone.

-

"Were you just trying to smash?" I asked, as we laid there.

"No, I just thought we were going to eat dinner and hang out."

"Really?"

"Yeah, if I just wanted to smash you I wouldn't have cooked you dinner or watched the whole movie and chilled like this... I would have just smashed you, and not put in all of this effort or time," he responded.

-

We laid there, and Emerson looked at me. He just looked at me, in a way that I hadn't been looked at, in a long, long time. He had a habit of looking at me, as we laid there. And it was nice, and I loved every second of it.

"What?" I asked, staring back.

"I'm just looking at you...is the silence between us weird?"

"No, actually, it's just there. It's calm, and chill. And I ask, 'what?' because I didn't know if it was weird for you."

"I can vibe people by how silence is between us, if it's weird or not."

-

"You know, I'm glad we're in here hanging out," Emerson said, "I'd much rather be chilling in here, than out there getting drunk and getting high again." Emerson paused for a brief moment, and turned to look at me. "I haven't had a decent conversation in a while."

There was a brief moment of silence between us, not a weird kind of silence, but a calm, chill, comfortable silence.

"No, me either. I haven't had a decent conversation in a while either," I admitted. And as I said those words, there was this undeniable feeling I felt. The soft beating of my heart, and the undeniable attraction between the two of us. I had thought that Sally was wrong before, and that there was a fat chance that I would like Emerson.

But I did.

We laid for a little while, until we decided that it was time to get ready for bed.

"Can you give me a shirt to wear?" Emerson walked over to his closet, and picked out a navy shirt.

"Can I wear that mint green shirt?" I said, with my cutest smile. I pointed to the shirt, hanging in his closet.

"But this shirt's going to fit you better!"

"But I like the mint green one!"

Emerson shook his head for a second, and then handed me the shirt. I put it on, over my bra. It ended at the very end of my mid-thigh, and it definitely looked scandalous on me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"See?"

"You do look good in it," Emerson said, as he leaned in for a kiss. As I walked in front of him, out his door, he gave me a little slap on my ass.

"I need to wash my face," I commented, as I looked at myself in the mirror.

"Here, use my facewash. It's really good, and it's Korean," Emerson said, as my jaw fell straight to the ground. He was using Korean skincare products. 

Could he be any more stupid perfect?

I washed my face, as Emerson brushed his teeth, and got ready for bed. Once he got to the room, I was already laying in bed.

"You know, everyone always wants to wear that shirt, but you're the first one that I actually let wear it."

Maybe Next Time

“Safe sex? Does such a thing exist?” 

-Garry Crystal, Leaving London

-

Emerson had warned me that his house was the trap house (whatever that means), and that his friends had a habit of spontaneously showing up. So, I wasn't that surprised when his roommate burst through the door, as the two of us were laying on the couch, spooning under the blanket. (Literally, guys, we were just spooning--no action had occurred yet!)

After meeting his roommate nicely, exchanging pleasantries, and pretending like we totally weren't having a moment on their couch before he showed up, Emerson and I headed to his room to chill. That was definitely the plan, just to hang out. He had given me a tour of his whole apartment earlier, and after sitting and talking on his bed, we ended up laying and cuddling.

"Look at this jacket," Emerson said, pointing to this coral and lilac jacket in his closet.

"I WANT IT," I said, reaching for the jacket. Emerson handed it to me, and I put it on, giving a little spin.

"Everyone wants this jacket, I swear, like every girl." Emerson laughed, as he blatantly checked me out in this jacket. "Not that like, hella girls pass through here or anything."

"I look so cute that you should let me have it!" I laughed, giving him my cutest look.

"You do look cute.." Emerson said, giving me a look.

We ended up laying on his bed, cuddling and talking. We talked about a bunch of different things, and quite honestly, talking to him was just so easy to do.

"Are you going to spend the night?" Emerson asked me, completely catching me off guard. 

You see, when a guy asks you if you're going to stay the night, it's never a straightforward question. You're kind of forced to leave, even if you really, really want to stay. Because you're at risk of looking like this clingy weirdo! And no self-respecting guy is going to admit that they want you to spend the night. They have this weird complex where they follow these weird macho rules and shit. 

"Do you want me to stay or do you want me to leave later?" I asked.

"It's whatever you want, Blair."

"I know, but I'm asking you."

"It's the girl's choice. I don't want to say that I want you to stay, and put you in that position and make you feel uncomfortable or anything, if you don't want to. I don't want you to think that if you stay we're going to have to smash or anything."

I didn't say anything for a brief second, because I was thoroughly impressed at how mature his answer was, and how he was the only other person in the entire world who used the phrase "smash" when talking about sex. His answer wasn't about him, but it was about me.

"Well, I'll see, but we are not smashing." I responded.

"No, yeah, I know, Blair. Definitely not my intentions."

We cuddled, and we talked, and of course, when you put two twenty somethings who are attracted to each other in the same bed....chemistry just takes over. 

This is basically what went down.

SCENE: Blair and Emerson are making out and all grindy and stuff, as this conversation occurs.

Blair: Emerson, we are not having sex.

Emerson: Blair I know, I know. Don't worry.

Blair: We aren't gonna smash *super flirtatious coy smile*

Emerson: Yeah, Blair?

Blair: Maybe next time

What Blair Really Meant: God, I want to smash, but I'm trying to be hard to get

Blair and Emerson continue making out and foreplay things.

Emerson: We're not going to smash?

Blair: *cute flirtatious laugh* Maybe next time

What Blair Really Meant: Hahaha, I'm trying to convince myself that we aren't about to smash in the next two minutes

Emerson flips Blair in a super impressive way

Emerson: Really, Blair?

Blair: Maybe next time *cute flirtatious laugh*

What Blair Really Meant: We are so gonna smash

And as Emerson and I kept making out in his bed, he stopped, and said quite possibly the sexiest thing any guy has ever said to me, the first time we were going to smash.

"Blair, wait, let me get a condom," he said, reaching in the top drawer.

I laid there, in shock.

Guys are shitty, and never want to use condoms. Do you know what happens when you're about to sleep with a twenty something millennial guy? It's like they seem to have forgotten everything they learned in middle school health class about STDs and safe sex. They ask for "just a few strokes," or they assure you that they can "pull out." They claim you can just grab some Plan B, or some bullshit like that. And I'm not ashamed, but I'm the buzzkill that says we need to use a condom.

So when Emerson pulled out that foiled packet, I was so impressed. 

Safe sex is sexy, guys.

After the sex...

"I know you wanted to do doggy, but I just-" 

"It's totally fine," I laughed, as Emerson wrapped his arm around me.

"Did you, uh-"

"Definitely did...twice," I laughed, as we kissed. We kind of just laid there, in the afterglow, as Emerson's chill playlist played in the background. 

"Definitely good." I said, as he pushed some hair out of my face.

"No, yeah...that was definitely really, really good," he responded, as I placed my head on his shoulder.

Emerson and I laid there and talked, as we heard thumping from the outside.

"Probably my friends," Emerson said, with a chuckle. "We should hang out in here for a while before we head out there...I don't want them to meet you like this."

We hung out for a little bit, laid and cuddled. Emerson excused himself to go out and say hey to his friends, and in his absence, I ended up throwing on my dress. 

And I was right to do so, because when Emerson came back, he ended up bringing his friend.

"Okay, Blair, you can do this...his friends aren't like Chuck's friends...you got this."

Terrible Pasta, House Ghosts, and Magical Kisses

“It's the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.” 

-Tahereh Mafi, Ignite Me

-

Emerson: Wanna go see Suicide Squad?

My heart nearly skipped a beat. Of course I wanted to--and the fact that I now didn't have to pay to go see it, made things even cooler.

Blair: Oh my gosh, yeah!
Emerson: Okay, we will go see that
Blair: Okay
Emerson: A bunch of my friends are going so I figured we could go do that

Cue the fucking record scratch.

In approximately .24 nanoseconds, I sent my friends each a screenshot of the conversation. What was he thinking?

No one goes on a group date for a first date! I mean, who does that? Group dates are reserved for when you want to meet your significant other's friends, and be "that cool, breezy, hot girl," and make them like you! I mean, what do you even tell your friends, "Hey this is Blair, it's our first date and I brought her to meet all of you guys?" Hell to the fucking no.

Sally: Maybe he wants you to meet all his friends
Blair: ON THE FIRST DATE?

And then, the thought hit me.

WHAT IF HE DIDN'T THINK THIS WAS A DATE?

I mean, it was definitely a date right? I mean, we had both been flirting and texting, sending cute Snapchats and liking Instagram pictures... for god's sake, we met on Tinder!

Was this a date?

To remedy this confusion, Blair-Bui style, I decided on a breezy, calm, totally conspicuous response.

What Blair Said: With them?
What Blair Meant: Are we really going to go on a date with your friends?

Emerson: Nevermind, we'll just hang here

-

Serena: God damnit Blair I wish I could just ship you mine
Blair: So all my shorts are not denim basically, because I wear rompers and dresses and skirts
Serena: You are ridiculously Blair
Blair: Do I need to shave my legs

(Spoiler alert: I didn't) I didn't find it necessary, because of Sally's number one rule about first dates--do not, under any circumstances, have sex with them.

Serena: Shave your legs. Shave everything. Vagina included.
Blair: This is a DATE
Serena: JUST IN CASE, YOU NEVER KNOW

But I did know, we weren't going to have sex! It was the first date, and after Rafael, I had learned a valuable lesson on not fucking on the first date. It was a relationship killer, and instantly stopped the growth of any emotional feelings between the two of you.

After freaking out, and finally deciding on a mint green dress with coral flowers, Gwyneth assured me that it was going to be perfectly fine.

"Blair, you're going to have fun. I think you're going to have fun!" After listening to my terrible dating mishaps while we worked together, she had quickly caught up to speed on the mess that was my romantic life. And she was one hundred percent rooting for Emerson...but then again, who in my life wasn't?

"What if it's terrible?"

"I don't think it'll be terrible, I think you're going to have fun with Emerson and then you're going to tell me all about it!"

"Okay, I'm going in my Uber."

When I say that it was the longest Uber ride of my life, it was the longest Uber ride of my life. In the fifteen minutes it took me to get to Emerson's place, my Uber driver had learned a lot about me.

• Emerson and I were going on our first date.
• We were going to dinner and a movie.
• I had not gone on a date since like, early June.
• Which was with the Fannie May guy.
• Before that, it was in April.
• And that date sucked too.
• I go on a lot of crappy dates.
• I am nervous as fuck for my date with Emerson.

I stepped out of the Uber, and the driver politely stayed close until Emerson opened the door and walked out. He was wearing shorts, a dark colored shirt, and holy crap, he was cute. Emerson's hair was shorter, but it definitely worked with his whole look--the haircut was very clean cut, although he was not that type of person. He was tanned, and had dark eyes and dark hair. He was tall, cute, and upon inspecting him physically, he had far exceeded my expectations. I knew that he was checking me out as well, my perfectly winged liner, my loose black curls, and my dress.

We greeted each other, exchanged pleasantries, and we headed into his apartment, which was actually really nice! It looked far better on the inside than 3950, although the outside made it look like a cute little house. Emerson explained that he lived with two other guys in his apartment, and that their three friends lived in the second floor apartment, so basically they all lived in this house. It was totally trashed, Pabst Blue Ribbon cans and Little Caesar boxes everywhere.

"We had a party last night," he admitted, trying to pick up the leftover boxes.

"I see," I said, handing him a pizza box. We walked into the kitchen, where there wasn't a crock pot in sight.

"So, I don't know how hungry you are, but I'm absolutely starving," Emerson said, with a coy smile. "We can go grab some food, or I can cook or something," he added.

As a foodie, I love the idea of a guy cooking for me. However, I have never, ever had a guy cook for me before. Despite the fact that I have made Chuck at least hundreds of meals, he had never cooked for me once. Although I really, really wanted him to (I think it's cute), he always refused, claiming that he hated to cook. Of course, it hurt, because I wasn't expecting a five course dinner...I just thought he'd cook for me, because I really wanted him to. But he's a selfish little bastard, so there's that.

So, Emerson offering to cook on the first date? Definitely impressive.

"I'm going to make this pasta, it's pretty good. Even though I don't have cheese," Emerson said, presenting me with a box of fusilli and spaghetti. "Which one do you want?"

"I don't care, it's whichever you want for your amazing pasta," I said, with a laugh. Emerson walked over to the fridge, and handed me a PBR. 

"I actually am not drinking right now," I responded, "I'm not drinking for the month before my birthday, and I turn twenty one on Sunday!"

"Not even a beer?"

"Not even a beer."

"It's kinda weird, but I get it. If you want one, feel free though, Blair."

"I'll have one after Sunday." I said, with a cute but flirtatious smile.

"Alright, you better."

"I'm gonna put on your favorite," he said, as Childish Gambino started playing from the speakers, and quite honestly, I found myself even more impressed with him.

The two of us talked and hung out, as he cooked the pasta. I resisted the urge to take the reins, and sat on the counter and kept him company. We talked about a bunch of different things, from music to friends, school and siblings. 

"I wouldn't mind hanging out with Sally, Matthew, Kayresia, and Titus sometime," Emerson responded, as he stirred the pot of pasta.

Emerson was just so easy to talk to, and so chill. Any gaps or moments of silence weren't strange between the two of us, they were just still moments of calmness. We sat and talked on his couch, as he told me about himself, and I divulged information about myself.

Suddenly, there was a thump.

"What the fuck is that?" I asked, turning to see if there were any loose crock pots around (Okay, I'll stop it with the jokes about the previous dates I've gone on...)

"Our place has a ghost," Emerson said, laughing.

I gave him a look, as he laughed even more. "Blair, I'm straight-up serious." He got off the stool, and started walking to the beginning of the hallway.

"You see that door at the end of the hallway?" Emerson said, pointing at the last door at the end of their hallway. Somehow in their house in Bridgeport, they had this straight-up ominous looking hallway straight out of The Conjuring.

"Yeah," I said.

"It opens when we close it. And I've put a backpack in front of the door before, and it's been moved and closed."

I swear, in my mind, ominous music was blasting in this house.

"And you decide to tell me this after I've already gone in your house? ON OUR FIRST DATE?"

"Hahahaha, don't worry Blair, I won't let the ghost get you."

"If it gets you, I'll just grab my purse and run."

He was just as cute and charming as he was in person, as he was in text. After the Fannie May guy disaster, I had quickly learned that texting chemistry definitely does not guarantee translation to in-person chemistry.

Emerson and I walked over to grab some purple plates, and he scooped some pasta on each of our plates. Upon trying his, he looked at me, and immediately said, "If you don't finish yours, I'll finish it for you. So don't worry."

Holy crap, was his cooking really that terrible?

I took my fork, and grabbed one piece of pasta from his plate. It wasn't terrible, but it definitely wasn't amazing.

"Uh, the noodles are a little undercooked, but I was really distracted," he said, giving me a look.

"Maybe it didn't turn out like you expected because you were so bent on impressing me," I said with a laugh, as I took another bite of the pasta.

Definitely undercooked. And definitely room temp, since he mixed the cold sauce with the hot pasta. It was quite honestly terrible, but I couldn't tell him that! After all, he did tell me that I was going to be mindblown, and that the seasonings he put in were going to make his pasta lit AF.

Plus, it was our first date! You don't tell a boy how terrible his pasta is on the first date.

"Um, it's...interesting." Emerson gave me a look, as I quickly corrected myself. "It's good! No, yeah, like it isn't terrible." I said, laughing.

We talked over dinner, and then decided to watch a movie. After learning that I am a total wimp, we decided on watching Devil, as in Emerson picked the movie and said it was pretty good.

As he pressed play, the screen started shaking and displaying only static, before stopping. 

This is how I'm going to die.

"Um, I'm definitely going to die in this house now," I laughed, as Emerson frantically tried to fix the movie.

"How creepy is that? We're watching Devil and shit's going crazy."

He showed up with a blanket (bonus points!) and as he sat on the couch, he put his arm around me. As he put his arm around me, I felt nervous for a brief second, as my hair extensions (yes, I put them in for this date), hung heavily, and the clips poked me in the head.

Could he tell that I had my extensions in? And more importantly, would he care? I awkwardly sat there, as I felt a clip come undone.

FUCK.

The two of us sat and talked, as we watched the movie. It was definitely an interesting movie, and I was genuinely impressed with his movie choice. 

"Hey you want to lay down?" Emerson asked, turning to face me. For a brief moment, I thought that he was going to lean in and kiss me, but we kind of just sat there, as he looked at me, probably wondering what the actual fuck was up with this girl.

"Yeah, sure!" I said, as I felt another clip getting loose. I think the two of us spooned for approximately six minutes before I gave up.

I sat up, and turned to look at Emerson.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, looking at me. I moved over a bit, and then turned too look at him.

"Okay...so I totally put these extensions in because we were taking headshots..." Total fucking lie, biggest lie of my life, almost. But he didn't need to know that! "So, it's really uncomfortable, so I'm going to take them out, and you totally can't laugh at me," I added. I unclipped the hair, and took it out of my head, breathing a sigh of relief as my hair felt light and free again.

"Let me see this," Emerson said, looking at it. "I totally felt this earlier, because it felt hard and stuff....but your hair looks nice now, and you definitely don't need it," he said, laughing. The two of us laughed at the situation for a second, and it was pretty rad that Emerson was so unphased and chill about the whole thing.

As we cuddled, my dress kept riding up, as I pulled it down. Emerson moved my hand for a second, and I thought something was going to happen--but he completely surprised me, by pulling my dress down for me, and resting his hand on my waist. Full disclosure, we fully watched the movie, and did not mess around, you guys. We didn't even kiss! Emerson just stroked my legs a little and played with my hands. 

Each time we turned to face each other, I totally gave him my sassy bedroom eyes, thinking that he'd kiss me, but he didn't. And as we laid there, spooning, and I felt...him being attracted to me, there was a feeling telling me that I was in for trouble. A feeling that told me that I should be glad that I shaved the other parts of me, and that I might be breaking some of Sally's rules.

I was obviously attracted to him, and it had been a long time since I was in a situation where I was hanging out with someone that I was attracted to, and wanted to, quite frankly, have sex with. But I wanted to go on dates with Emerson too, and see what could happen, and Sally's advice just kept repeating itself in the back of my head.

Blair, do not have sex with him.

Even though I really, really, really wanted to. 

The movie ended, and we laid there, and talked to each other for a little bit. Have you ever been so close (physically) to someone that you can literally feel the chemistry and attraction between the two of you? The polarizing and intense attraction, which is evidently present, although you both try to keep your cool? That was how it felt, as Emerson and I laid there, and I wondered why he just hadn't kissed me already.

"Do you kiss on the first date?" Emerson asked, with a laugh. 

"Yeah," I whispered, as he leaned in closer, and pulled me into a kiss. It was absolutely electrifying, and the fact that we had held off on it...that made it even more magical. It was the type of kiss that you could feel down to your very toes, the type of kiss that makes your heart beat faster and takes your breath away. The type of kiss that has some cheesy song (like Sixpence None The Richer's Kiss Me) play in the background in the movies. It was one of those.

And the kiss was over, he looked at me, and pushed a curl out of my face. And in that moment, I knew that this date was not going to turn out exactly as I had planned.

Snatched: The Blair Bui Story

“Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs.” 

-Oliver Goldsmith, She Stoops to Conquer 

-

I'm not going to talk about the things that are stressing me, because there is about five hundred million things pulling at me right now. School, work, stress, life...that's not fun and cute, quirky and comedic. But I will talk about Emerson and Oliver.

After heaps of stress that we aren't going to discuss, I ended up leaving work to go to Matthew and Sally's barbecue that night. My hair is finally long enough to put in my extensions, so in they went, and dayum Daniel, did my hair look banging. As I got into my Uber, I noticed that Emerson had sent me a friend request (I actually forgot to text him back the night before...oops), and also that my Uber driver was cute. 

Now, if this was just any normal guy, I would have been all flirtatious and cute right off the bat. But because this was a hottie Uber driver, I had to be coy. I mean, seriously, if I was too straightforward and weird he would give me like, 0/5 stars, and then I would have to flap my fucking arms and fly everywhere!

I talked to the other passenger in the Uber, as he low key checked me out in his mirror. I was wearing a cute J.Crew floral top, my J.Crew shorts, and some matching flats (Charming Charlie, so comfortable!). She and I talked about our favorite food places, what our plans were. By the time she left the car, he knew that I was single, successful (for my age, kinda), into fashion and blogging, that I was "woke," loved Wicker Park, and that I was on the way to a barbecue at my friends' place in Irving Park.

The two of us talked and flirted, as he drove me to Matthew and Sally's place. His name was Oliver, and although he was cute, he reminded me a little too much of a Logan Square dwelling punk rock ex-boyfriend... *cough* Haz. Oliver was pretty formal, although everything else about him was very greasy hipster. He drove for Uber full time, he was a writer, and writing a play. He lived in Logan Square, and he had a twin.

My ride was extra long, as Oliver prolonged it, as we were flirting and talking. He even offered to wait outside the store for the old lady that he was dropping off at Mariano's.

"I'm hooking up with this girl, kind of, but she keeps saying that she has feelings for her ex or whatever. I mean, I'm not going to turn down the sex or anything, but yeah."

"Dude, seriously?" I asked, giving him a look. "Are you seriously that dumb?"

He looked at me, completely confused.

"She obviously isn't into you," I laughed, as I applied another layer of gloss.

"Listen, when girls want to hook up with a guy, they pick a guy that they don't respect, they think is hot, and they have no future with. Because why would you hook up with a guy that you think is amazing and is super hot? That's how you catch the feels," I said, as he nodded. "So obviously, this girl is isn't interested in you."

"Yeah, but she said she had feelings for her ex still," Oliver responded, in the most Johnson Baker-y kind of voice.

"Yeah, and that's what girls tell you when they don't want to date you. We can't say that we don't like you, because guys are egotistical and they'll ask for a second chance or some bullshit like that. And we don't like you, so it's not gonna change. But if you tell a guy that you still have feelings for your ex...then he can't argue that with you, he can't."

As soon as I said that last word, I realized that we were at my destination.

"So, why don't you pick me up later? And I'll tell you more nuggets of wisdom?"

Oliver gave me a smile, and nodded. "Sure, Blair."

-

"That's why you were late?" Matthew said, giving me a look. "Because you were flirting with the Uber driver?"

"Yup," I said, as I reached for a piece of Sally's cilanto lime chicken.

"You better be careful and take Kayresia with you on the way home!" Sally said, as he checked on his lasagna.

"I'll be okay! And if they take me, Jamie Chung can play me in the movie. Dule Hill will play Matthew, Jessie Williams will play you, Sally. Taraji P. Hensen will play Kayresia, and Titus Burgess will play Titus," I laughed. "They'll call it- Snatched: The Blair Bui Story."

-

I walked over to Titus, as he and I had a little bit of business to discuss the night of the barbecue.

"So, I have a question about your old roommate Emerson," I said, trying to segue-way into reconnaissance mode.

"Emerson?" Titus, asked, confused.

"Yes, your old roommate."

"Light skin boy?"

"Yes."

"Tall?"

"Yes."

"Cute?"

"YES," I said, as my voice echoed throughout the entire kitchen.

"Skaterish kind of boy?"

"TITUS, she said yes already, you're talking about the same guy!" Monica said, slapping him on the arm.

"Why?"

"Because I have a date with him!" I said, giving him a look. I wanted to know what I was exactly getting myself into...and what exactly he was like.

"REALLY?"

"YES," Monica and I said, simultaneously. We each gave Titus a look, as he began to divulge information.

"Is he a fuck boy?"

"No, he's really artsy and chill, he's really chill. But he has fucked girls before. He had this little friend with benefits that would come over and cook and clean for us."

"HELL FUCKING NO," I responded, immediately. "I can barely clean my own apartment, no way am I cleaning someone elses!"

"But that was just that girl, he has girlfriends too."

"So...which do you think he does more of?" I tried to ask, nonchalantly.

"Well, he's had two girlfriends and two "arrangements" in the time that I've known him...so I think he'd be down for either."

Great. This makes things so much easier for me. Titus noticed the look on my face, and asked, "Blair, do you not want to date him?"

"I don't know what I want!" I admitted. I really didn't. I was over the break up, and I had begun to forget a lot of things about Chuck, and I had missed none of the things about Chuck, but that didn't mean that I was ready to be committed again. I was free, and happy, but that didn't mean that I only wanted casual sex either. I just wanted to go on dates and figure things out!

"Then ask him what he wants and find out! I really think that he's down for either, you just can't change your mind halfway through the middle. Because it upsets him and confuses him."

Great.

"Like that girl who he was friends with benefits with, halfway through the middle she said she wanted a relationship, and then she changed her mind...and then she changed it again!"

"Okay, so I've got it--I have to figure out what I want, and then not change my mind once I've decided."

"EXACTLY, and then you two will be perfectly fine."

Fat Chance

Some things are so unexpected that no one is prepared for them.
-Leo Rosten 

-

When we all left your favorite ice queen, she had decided to message back the elusive, creative, and undeniably cute Emerson. Despite her being a picky ass bitch, Sally had commented that he thought that our lovely (but sassy and bitchy) heroine would like Emerson.

And of course, I thought to myself, "fat chance."

Emerson and I had ended up messaging..and exchanging phone numbers. We talked about hobbies, interests, how he knew my friends, and a whole bunch of other things. He said he'd teach me how to skateboard, and not-so-subtly commented that he thought it was cute how small I was. From Pokemon Go to Instagram, we talked. We texted and flirted, until it got late that night.

And the weirdest thing about all of this? I liked him.

I Blair Bui, fully admit that I was attracted to Emerson Zephyr. Not in the "I only want to hit it it and quit it Rafael style," way, but that I actually wanted to go on a date with him. And that I was actually looking forward to it!

It was a weird feeling, because I hadn't liked someone in months. I mean I wasn't writing Mrs. Emerson Zephyr all over my day planner, or naming our future children...definitely not. But I wasn't going to deny the fact that I had a (small) crush on him, and that I wanted to hang out with him! It was a really strange feeling, because I hadn't been trying to go on a date with anyone recently. I was ignoring messages, dumping guys on the beach when they're begging for a second chance (BLAIR BUI IS TERRIBLE), having (well, more like not having) casual sex with terrible human beings (BOSS ASS BITCH BLAIR CONDOMS), and dating someone had been completely off my radar. I was ignoring dozens of Tinder messages, for fuck's sake!

And then, in an instant, I became this mushy, gooshy, cheesy girl that checked her text messages and smiled, and got excited for a skateboarding date. I even mentally picked an outfit! It was completely unlike me, and it was fucking weird. I got excited whenever I got a text, and I audibly laughed and smiled at his texts, and I was acting like a complete and utter stereotypical millennial female. It was like someone had carved out my icy interior and replaced it with marshmallows and sunshine!

My mind was butting heads with my heart (god, that sounded fucking cheesy), as I was trying to keep myself calm and indifferent, while simultaneously getting excited.

FUCK, Sally was right. I did like him!

I definitely wasn't in love or anything (that would be fucking weird), but I thought that he was cute and charming. And I had only met him, like yesterday!

The two of us texted a bit that morning when I was at work, until-

Emerson: Hey I gotta text you later my phone is about to die, sorry
Blair: It's all good

I sounded cool and breezy, right? Totally chill.

Emerson: I'll text you later

-

I woke up from my nap, expecting a text back from Emerson. I mean, it had been over seven hours, which definitely constituted as later, right? I reached for the mint green and rose gold chevron striped phone, and saw nothing.

OKAY, I saw a billion new matches and messages, but I didn't see anything that I cared for.

AKA, I didn't see a text from Emerson.

I sat around and relaxed, and full disclosure, I totally checked my phone like a weirdo. I mean, yeah, he told me that he would text me later, but it was hours later...and still nothing. The normal explanations of "he's probably busy," "he probably forgot," "oh he fell asleep," were there, but I just couldn't help but question and over-analyze things. And I'm not the type to freak or over-analyze, which made me hate being a girl with feelings even more!

What if he's blowing me off? What if he didn't like me? What if he has a baby mama?

These illogical explanations keep appearing, and I tried to distract myself. I mean, I couldn't help it, the illogical part of my body was running rampant, and annoying the living hell out of me. I decided that the best distraction would be to post an Instagram picture.

Literally, in the two seconds that I posted it, Emerson liked it.

"This a-hole can like my fucking picture on Instagram but not text me?" I thought to myself.

I mean, maybe he was trying to seem busy or hard to get or whatever?

In that moment, realizing that I was one hundred percent sweating something completely minor, I realized that dating Chuck had made me dating-impaired. Yup, because of that crazy and dysfunctional bullshit that I dealt with, I had no longer known how to date and flirt with normal human beings.

It was a totally logical explanation--Chuck was so fucking crazy, and he pulled the dumbest shit, and I had let all of it slide, thinking that it was a totally normal thing and totally normal behavior. I mean seriously, he showed up drunk at 3 am and projectile vomited everywhere, and I thought it was endearing. I thought it was fucking cute!

WHO DOES THAT?

And it wasn't like I was completely socially incompetent like Chuck, because somehow I managed to have guys follow me twenty blocks asking why I won't date them (do I really need to link that blog post? I feel like it should be required reading for this blog), and attract annoying med students and whatnot. But the thing is, with them I didn't have to try, I just acted like my normal damn self, and they just flocked. When it comes to flirting, and trying to be alluring and charming, I had my moments when I was-

1. Mean as hell
2. Oblivious as hell
3. Obvious as hell

I mean, we all remember when I was trying to "play the game" with Carter, and kept talking about how I was hard to get and all that shit. I didn't do mind games or crap like that, I'm a straightforward and no nonsense lady. 

I meet someone, I get to know them, I agree to go on a date, I end up not liking them and having to reject them in unfortunate circumstances, and then my friends ask me what was wrong with that one. 

It's a vicious cycle, y'all.

A lot of people wonder what I look like. I am a Vietnamese female, with straight dark brown hair. It is unbrushed most of the time, and light brown in strange places. I am lighter toned, and also my skin tone is a lot more neutral than most Asians, who have a more "golden" look. My eyebrows are thick, dark, but perfectly shaped and arched (it takes work!). I do not have a perfect tiny little pointed nose, but it is definitely not flat. My lips are not small nor big, and my eyes are big and round. Like, very big, especially for my race. My face is like a slightly elongated kind of heart shape, and cheeks are full, but not chubby or fat. People always comment on how I look mixed or Caucasian, but I am definitely one hundred percent Vietnamese. I get European a lot too.

Because of the strong eyebrows, the big, dark eyes, and the cheekbones, plus everything else, everyone always says I have resting bitch face. 

And I one hundred percent do, I'm not going to deny it.

If someone were to play me in a movie, it would be Constance Wu or Jamie Chung, or a cross of the two. So, that should give you all a clearer picture.

I'm not going to comment on whether or not I think I'm hot or whatever, because beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I've had guys lose their shit because they think I'm a hottie, and I've had guys (aka, only one, being JD) say that they don't think I'm that attractive.

Maybe I'll be fearless one day and post a picture.

ANYWAYS, sorry to get sidetracked.

Wondering about the whole "I'll text you later" thing brought up a really good point, as I sat there on my bed. Why did these games need to exist, and why were they a social norm? Is this supposed to exciting and interesting? Was this supposed to generate an interest in Emerson for me?

From my social media, marketing, and development background, I understood the logic behind acting like you're in demand. But from a Blair Bui perspective, part of me was honestly like, "just cut the bullshit."

And this is how the end of the story goes--I patiently waited for him to text me that morning, and after that happened, I just continued to text him like I would normally text, double messages and all (obviously I wasn't sending ???? like a weirdo... *cough*, Rafael- BLAIR MAKES RAFAEL'S HOTLINE BLING), I just acted normal.

And maybe I'll get ghosted (THE GHOST OF TACOS PAST, PART ONE), maybe he'll end up begging for a second date at the beach (BLAIR BUI IS TERRIBLE), maybe he'll follow me twenty blocks (THROAT PUNCH), maybe we'll argue on a train platform (THE GREMLIN MAN-CHILD (THROAT PUNCH, PART TWO) Or maybe, JUST maybe, we'll go on a normal date and have a great time, and I can go back and report it to all of you.

The thing is, life is complicated enough without all of us making it even more confusing. Text the guy when you want, and simply be yourself. And if he thinks you're weird, then he's not the one. Talk about how much you love Childish Gambino, send cute snaps, and do your thing. Because he's missing out, and he probably sucks if he loses interest because you're not trying to be coy or strategic.

There's definitely times to be strategic--but that's not when you're trying to get to know each other!

Message Him Back

"He was a skater boy, she said see you later boy."
-Avril Lavigne

-

I had long accepted the fact that I was a millennial spinster. I spent the entire weekend watching Netflix (The Mysteries of Laura, AMAZING) and eating things that I hadn't in quite some time (aka, carbs and chinese food...lots of carbs). It was perfectly okay, though, because I was perfectly happy and perfectly fine with just chilling by myself. I didn't feel the need to go out and catch a guy, nor did I feel the need to be with someone right now. Besides, with my luck, it would probably be around the next leap year that I met a guy that I actually liked.

The thing is, I go on dates (okay, well...I used to, I haven't been on one since that awkward Fanny May boy in like, June), I give guys chances, and I even have a Tinder (and I'm relatively nice to them too!)...BUT, I don't like any of the guys I meet. I've said it fifty million times on this blog before, I just need to feel that spark. That magic.

And truth be told, the last time I liked a guy (to clarify- not loved) was forever ago when Rafael and I first met, you know, before the whole kidney disease and "hit it and quit it" bullshit that he pulled (THE GHOST OF TACOS PAST, PART ONE). Before that was Louis Romney, and a year and a half before that was the infamous Chuck Cuevas.

Matthew continued to tell me that the guys messaging me on Tinder were flirting with me (well, yeah...but I didn't like any of them), Kayresia continued to tell me that I needed to give guys a chance, and Serena told me that I was seriously brushing off some pretty hot guys (didn't matter- no sparks!). My friends had told me the truth, and were genuinely trying to prevent me from being best friends with the delivery man, but I just couldn't fake interest, even if the the guys would have made some other girl very happy.

I continued to swipe out of boredom, as Laura hunted down another murder and got to the bottom of another homicide.

When suddenly, my phone went off, with a notification.

The message that awaited me was different than the usual messages that I got, this one caught my attention, for obvious reasons of course. This message stood out in the sea of pick up lines, generic hellos, and awkward conversation starters that sat in my inbox. That being the case, I actually opened my first message, since I redownloaded the app.

Emerson: Hey I've seen you around before

I paused my Netflix queue.

There was one of three things that could be going on here-

1. There was some single asian female shit going on here
2. He was mistaking me for some other asian girl
3. He was totally lying as a pick up line

Blair: Really?

Emerson: On campus, definitely

I did some internet reconnaissance, and within seconds, I found his Facebook. He was handsome, charming, and had the swagger of Childish Gambino (which I will admit is definitely a plus). I messaged Sally (Matthew's boyfriend, Salvador) to get some information.

Sally: He used to live with us freshman year. I'd say talk to him. He goes to our school and everyone thinks he's cute. 
Blair: Okay, lol, because I never messaged him back.. he is cute... how tall is he?

DAMN, Blair, asking about height like usual!

Sally: Lolz girl you better talk to him, and he's about my height
Blair: What did he study and is he normal
Sally: He's a whiteish black boy, he's a skater. He's cool though. Message him back. I think you'll like him.

And I'm not going to lie, as soon as Sally said that, I thought to myself, "Ha, fat chance!" With my luck, I'll find a guy that I like a decade from now.

Emerson was definitely different than the guys I've dated--instead of being a nerdy, grandpa at heart (or actual old ass man, like Louis Romney), he was a breath of fresh air. He was young, adventurous, restless, and liberated. He definitely was more of the creative type, as he skateboarded, and was into photography and design.

Matthew: Are you trying to date him or just fuck?
Blair: I do want to date! He just doesn't look like the type that dates!

I mean, I wasn't trying to be Mrs. Emerson Zephyr, but I wasn't going to lie and say that I didn't want to go on dates and see what happened. And Emerson gave off a casual vibe, and I wasn't going to waste my time on him if he was just trying to Rafael me!

Matthew: You never know, flirt a little and find out. 

Me, Blair Bui, flirt? Did I even know how to flirt anymore?

After talking to Matthew and Sally, I sent Emerson a message. Sure, this could have ended in absolute chaos, and he could fake kidney failure...or something really cool could happen. But I would never knew unless I took a chance...right?

Chuck Cuevas and Jake Reagen and Rafael Mancilla

“There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.”
 -F. Scott Fitzgerald

-

My friends always tell me that I'm being too picky--and I know I've said this five hundred times, but there's just this spark that has to be there. I'll stop myself here, because I've talked about what I'm exactly looking for, in extensive detail before (WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR, EXACTLY).

And sure, maybe my standards are high, but they don't call it one in a million for nothing. It's not easy to find, and even though some days I just want to give up, and be a millennial spinster that bakes oatmeal cranberry chocolate chip toffee bit cookies all day and watch Netflix, somehow I keep on going. It's probably because past the spicy, sassy, loud, brazen, bold as fuck, no nonsense, boss ass bitch exterior, there is still that girl who believes in soul mates and forever. Deep, deep, deep inside. Like, waaaay deep.

And it's also probably because minus the bad parts, I've met some pretty great guys. In the least embarrassing way I can phrase this, there's three types of exes you can have. There are guys like Haz, where you have just completely forgotten about them and their existence, and only remember them if they're brought up for some reason. There are guys that you think about regularly, individuals that have profoundly touched you (maybe physically if you get all sexually, but mostly emotionally- ha!) and that you share fond memories with. And then there's the assholes like Chuck Cuevas that are pieces of shit, and never deserved your attention or love. Assholes.

And the people that made you so happy, that you drifted away from, and weren't total shits are the best. They're the best because you can remember the fond memories you shared, and the unique experiences that you had with them. Kind of like that old grandma at the end of Edward Scissorhands. Or the old lady in Titanic.

God, I just cringed for a brief moment imagining myself as a grandmother in a floral cardigan telling my grandkids about the time Jake Reagan showed up with a six pack of PBR, and how we laid and talked and got drunk. And then later, Kayresia called me as I was getting smashed from behind!

The weekend that Chuck showed up drunk and projectile vomited everywhere, the infamous weekend where he became my boyfriend... that weekend almost didn't happen. Instead of staying home that weekend, I almost went to Milwaukee to see Jake. Sometimes, I wonder what could've happened, what should've happened, and what almost was. Especially now that I know what happened instead.

I try to convince myself that things would have been the same, and that Chuck and I would have gotten together, even if I had left that weekend. But who knows? And sometimes when I wonder, it scares me. It scares me because of what happened with Derek, and how the fantasy was far better than the reality--and it also scares me, because I could have been madly in love with Jake and been hurt fifteen times worse (although nothing in my entire life hurt as much as Chuck did--that hurt more than anything I could have imagined or wished upon my worst enemy).

This doesn't mean that the time Chuck and I spent together meant nothing, or that I didn't love Chuck. I did--just in a different way than I loved Jake. Sometimes I'm scared that I'll always love both of them a (tiny, tiny, tiny) little bit, more so Chuck. But the thing is, the two types of love I had for both of them were completely different, because they're so completely different.

I fell in love with Jake Reagen spontaneously--it was all at once, and completely unexpected. I fell in love with him, the way he laughed, and the way he looked at me, as we talked all night until the crack of dawn. I fell in love with him fast as hell, and I dove straight into it, fearless and carefree. I didn't worry about my heart, or the walls I had put up, I just let myself fall, and go all in. I loved how spontaneous he was, and how everything with him was always carefree. I loved how he called me Smalls, and how he was just so easy to talk to, and so easy to spend time with. How he was always full of energy, and full of life. He was crazy and ridiculous, but he was always real and genuine.

I fell in love with Chuck in time, more and more each and every day. I discovered new things that I loved about him each and every day, and he made me feel safe and secure. He always could tell if something was bothering me, and he always knew how to make me laugh. And even though he was a sociopath and liar with narcissistic tendencies that emotionally manipulated me, and treated me like shit, in the beginning he was my favorite person in the entire world. He was my world. I usually don't think about it, but I sometimes I wonder how someone that made me feel so safe and secure, someone that I trusted so much, could be the person that let me down the most, and hurt me more than everyone else combined.

The last person that I felt sparks for was Rafael--not the Rafael now, but the Rafael that I first met. The one who wasn't a total shit and a complete asshole.

When Rafael and I first matched, we clicked. We talked nonstop and he made me laugh. He was sweet and funny, sarcastic and stubborn, and somehow we just complemented each other. Of course, he's still funny (sometimes), and always sarcastic and stubborn now, but it's different now. Now that we've gotten to know each other, I'm just not romantically interested in him, and he's also not sweet or that funny anymore. But when I first met him, there was instant chemistry and instant sparks, which is also why he is the last person I slept with, that I actually do not regret.

Of course now, he's just a booty call, but it's crazy to think that at one point I really saw Rafael potentially being my next boyfriend.

So yeah, it's been a while--but I definitely know what I want, and I know how I'll feel as soon as they're apparent.

And do you know what other gut feeling is undeniable to me too?

Whenever I feel like it isn't the end. Sometimes, there's just this crazy gut feeling telling you that it isn't the end of the story between you and that person, even if you really, really, want it to be. Sometimes, the universe has more in plan for you, and you're destined somehow to see each other again. Whether you say hello and move forward, or you end up taking an Uber to 3950 for a spontaneous casual romp--it's up to destiny. And that gut feeling telling you that it's not the end, sometimes it can be the actual worst.

Sure, sometimes it can fuel hope--but I'm not that type of person.

I'll never forget, how months ago, I said that there was this terrifying gut feeling that things weren't done between the two of us.

"My heart felt heavy for a moment, as I analyzed all these situations inside of my head. And as much as I wanted to pretend that this was still an option, I knew in my heart that the ending with Rafael had disappeared long ago, when that book closed. But, truthfully, a gut feeling inside of me told me that this wasn't going to be the end."

-THE END OF RAFAEL

And I was thinking about it recently, because I have that terrifying gut feeling that it isn't the end of Chuck and I. I definitely want to avoid him for the rest of my life, and never want to talk to his whack end, but there's this horrifying gut feeling that says that we're bound to run into each other again. Not necessarily that we're going to fall together--but definitely that me never talking to him isn't the end.

Trust me, it's terrifying.

Almost as terrifying as the thought that I might never feel sparks again.

Blair Makes Rafael's Hotline Bling

"I know when that hotline bling, that can only mean one thing"
-Aubrey Drake Graham

-

When you get over someone, there's signs. You stop thinking about them, you forget things about them, you stop associating things with them, and you are well, happy. You stop getting sad over the fact that you have to order your own fries now. Or that no one is going to text you telling you that you need to take an uber home instead of being a stubborn ass that walks around Chicago at night. You stop getting sad because Vapiano used to be your place, and that semi-crappy Chinese delivery used to be your thing. You're even a little happier, because now you don't have to eat Mongolian beef every damn time you order from there.

You forge traditions of your own, and make memories of your own. You're happy, fulfilled, and free. 

But sometimes, there's certain things that you can't help but miss...

Okay, you don't miss the fighting at 2 am, the fact that they chose their jackass friends over you all the time, you know, normal things. The fact that they were socipaths with narcissistic tendencies that emotionally manipulated you....you just miss, um, the other stuff.

(It's not like I didn't value the other parts of our relationship and like I didn't care about him, I did! But I've moved on and gotten over that part already!)

And there was no way in hell that I would even consider booty calling Chuck.

It had been a little while since Rafael and I spoke, but that didn't matter because booty calls worked in this magical realm where you didn't even have to talk to the person regularly. It bended a bunch of social worlds, and quite honestly- I got to have my strings plucked when I needed to, and I got to ignore Rafael the other 99% of the time. Especially when he was trying to convince me that he was a nice person.

To refresh your memory:
Rafael: I think I'm more than nice. But if you don't think so then you don't have to talk to me.

I fumbled with the words a little, but I ended up going with my usual--I assumed that this point that he wouldn't be dumb enough to think that I'm trying to actually hang out with him. Plus, I was sure that whenever I texted him, his reaction was "This bitch," as soon as he saw my name on the screen.

Blair: What are you doing later

Cool, breezy, unpunctuated.

Rafael: Getting groceries and making dinner. What's up?

Why was this boy always making food and buying groceries?

Blair: We should hang out!

Translation: We should have intercourse!

Rafael: Maybe like late?

I resisted the urge to say, "fucking duh." But I definitely thought it out loud. I was sitting in class, and it was like noon- did he really think that I was trying to get some this early? Especially when the two of us (well, one of us) had actual responsibilities and a real job?

Blair: That would be best.

I added a little more, so I wouldn't sound so bitchy.

Blair: That would be best. I have to go to Target and run errands after work.

He probably was like, "Why is this girl always going to Target?" But I didn't really give a fuck.

Rafael: Alright just hmu later bc I'm not sure how busy I'll be
Rafael: And I need sleep lol

Four hours later....

As Janet talked on the phone, I sat at my desk, typing away.

"It's on the corner of Irving Park Road, and Lake Shore Drive," she spoke into her phone, as those specific instructions sparked something in my brain.

Irving Park Road and LSD, those coordinates sounded so familiar...who did I know that lived in that area?

"I live at 3950 N. Lake Shore Drive," she said, immediately ringing a bell.

3950.

THIRTY NINE FIFTY. Rafael's apartment building that seemed like an oversized frat house for working professionals that wanted to relive their glory days. A building that seemed impressive on the outside, and far less impressive on the inside. The building with the doorman who scanned me from tip to toe, making mental notes that night about the girl Rafael Mancilla was about to smash.

Horror stories had conjured up in my brain in a matter of seconds,

What if the fire alarm went off the next time that I was there, and I ran out in one of Rafael's blue button-downs, to see Janet staring at me?

What if Janet saw me leaving at 5 am, doing the walk of shame?

OR EVEN WORSE- what if one day we shared a cab to work, as I left there, all walk of shame-y?

WHAT IF THAT OLDER LADY RAFAEL FUCKED IN HIS BUILDING WAS JANET?!

Four hours later....

"I highly doubt that he would fuck Janet," Gwyneth laughed, as I listed all of my potential problems about 3950, with her.

"Shouldn't you see if you guys are meeting up?" She asked, as the thoughts popped out of my brain, like little bubbles of ridiculousless.

I pulled out my new rose gold iPhone, and quickly typed a message.

Blair (8:18 pm): Are we meeting up like later?

Rafael: What time you thinking?

Booty call hour, sex time, dick o' clock.

Blair: Like 10:30ish? Girl's gotta eat her spaghetti squash.

You guys that's not a euphemism, I was genuinely making spaghetti squash.

Rafael: Like be here 10:30?

Blair: I guess. If that works?

I watched Netflix, chilled a little, and expected him to take a little while in responding. I knew it was because he was salty about what happened last time we talked, and how he tried to defend himself by saying he was a nice person. Plus, I knew that he didn't like that I was in charge, and calling the shots here.

Rafael: Nah, I'm probably going to have to pass

Was he serious? Literally, all he had to do was wait fifteen minutes, go down to the lobby, let me in. And then smash me. THAT'S IT. 

A cute, small, young Asian woman was coming to his damn door for an encounter, and then she was going to leave afterwards, to go home and sleep. NO STRINGS ATTACHED.

I wasn't even going to ask for guac or anything this time! 

"What the fuck?" I thought to myself, as I sent screenshots to my friends. "He came in like two seconds last time, and he definitely enjoyed himself."

I shrugged it off, and continued to watch Netflix. And that's when the texts started rolling in.

Rafael : But I'll hit you up tomorrow though?

Hell to the fucking no. I was in charge of this arrangement, and I was the one summoning him. He had it easy--he just needed to open his door. I was the one who needed to trek all the way to 3950, and after the discovery I had made about Janet today, that made things even more not worth  it. Rafael was cocky and a little douche lord, no way was he calling the shots. 

I continued to watch Netflix, and relax. As I sat there, texting Leonard, Matthew, and a few of my other friends, my phone went off with another notification.

Rafael : ??

Rafael had not just double texted since I didn't answer his first text...he triple texted. I laughed a little at his failed power play, and ignored it. My night was going to consist of Netflix, carbless pasta, and relaxation. I guess, maybe, I could text him back the next day. Maybe.

It was a little lesson for him- when Blair makes your hotline ring, you better not turn down that damn thing.

Blair Bui's Boss Ass Bitch 21st Birthday Bar Crawl

It's your 21st Birthday in the 21st century. What more could you ask for? 

-Unknown 

-

My sophomore year of college, in my pre-Chuck days, there was this little red zippered leather skirt that I would wear, and this bad ass version of myself would come out. The Serena Van Der Woodsen, Serena Tran, Marisa Cooper, Rachel Green, confident and effortless version of Elizabeth Bui. Not the normal Blair Waldorf, Blair Bui, Summer Roberts, Monica Geller version that runs around in florals carrying a green pebbled leather Kate Spade satchel.

There's something about me and event planning that brings out my inner fire, my inner passion and spunk (you know, besides the normal amount that is always present). And I hadn't planned anything since Friendsgiving 2015, which as you know, all ended in my heart being smashed into fifty thousand pieces. So, I decided to go and plan something big- my twenty first birthday party.

I knew that I hated clubbing, and loud, crowded places. And I also knew that I loved beer...and so, of course, I came to the conclusion that for my birthday I wouldn't be happy going to some rando club or boujie restaurant. I wanted to start in my favorite bar, in my favorite neighborhood...AND GO ON A BAR CRAWL.

Not just any bar crawl, but Blair Bui's Boss Ass Bitch 21st Birthday Bar Crawl, doesn't that have such a great ring to it? I of course invited my closest friends, some people that I knew from work (kinda), mutual friends of my closest friends that would probably come, my closest friends' significant others, and friends that have fallen through the cracks.

...Oh, and I invited some the mutual friends that Chuck and I have, just so everyone's aware that I've moved on and that I'm happy (OKAY, guys, I'm sorry, I had to- after that accidental message faux-pas, I have to salvage my reputation!)

And that is when I got the best news, in the entire fucking world.

SERENA QUYNH TRANG TRAN WAS FLYING INTO CHICAGO FOR MY TWENTY FIRST BIRTHDAY.

MOTHER

FUCKING

YES

(literally)

I was of course excited and happy that all my other friends could go, but SERENA WAS FLYING IN. She and I were going to get turnt the fuck up, and be bad ass bitches in the city, because that dream had passed long ago.

Serena: I think you should wear something sparkly AF. And have your entire entourage wear black.

Not to mention, if anyone loved helping pick outfits and Yelping bars, plus intense party planning, as much as I did--it would be Serena MF Tran.

And do you know what the best part about all of this is? This time, it was about what I wanted.

August 20th, y'all- just you wait.

The Harm With Drunk Snapchats (Deleting Your Ex on Social Media)

“I delete the picture of him from my phone; I delete his number. I think that if I just delete him enough, it will be like none of it ever happened and my heart won't hurt so badly” 

-Jenny Han

-

I recently had a real-ass realization about things with Chuck...I'm sure you all are aware of this, after reading that ultra serious post that I put up the other day. It's hard, when you romanticize the past, but when you really look at things in hindsight, you realize what you have been missing...and it's not that phenomenal.

Coincidentally, I saw this Thought Catalog article this morning that really shined a big fat fucking light on my life, 20 Diversion Tactics Highly Manipulative Narcissists, Sociopaths And Psychopaths Use To Silence You, and it genuinely broke my heart when I realized that I had been the subject of all of those tactics, at one point or another in my relationship with Chuck. That, coupled with the very real advice that Ramona gave me about how ridiculously unhealthy Chuck is for me, has made me really think about things.

And to think all of you laughed at me, and thought, "There's no way that she's really leaving his whack ass forever...she even accidentally messaged him!" BUT NO, REALLY, this time I'm actually serious.

Of course, there's times when I miss the good times, but quite honestly, we never yearn for the terrible parts, and the terrible outweighs the good. I've been trying to think about what to blog about since this whole Chuck drama subplot is over, and so, I think I've found something to blog about...at least for a little while...

I'm going to blog about discovering myself, loving myself, and my whole journey of eat, slay, love. Anyways, here's the first post after the genuine end.... please bear with me, because I'm not sure how this is going to exactly work. I promise it'll still be funny, ridiculous, and sassy here on Cliches of Chicago, though. I PROMISE.

OKAY, anyways.

When do you know exactly to cut the cord with an ex-boyfriend? The social media cord, of course, that links the two of you together. With so many forms of social media, it's not hard to keep tabs on your ex, whether you're trying to or not. No, but guys, I'm serious.

So, I have a really, really embarrassing confession to make. When Chuck and I weren't talking from March-April, I 100% social media stalked him. Not the normal social media stalk where I'd open up his Facebook profile...but the weird social media stalk where I would type "photos liked by Chuck Cuevas" and "posts liked by Chuck Cuevas" into the search bar. OKAY, you guys, don't judge me...we dated for a really long time, okay?

And I bet you guys didn't even know that Facebook had that feature- but I totally did, and I totally used it to creep on Chuck. On the completely reverse side, Chuck (or his friends) would always be the first people to view a Snapchat story once I posted one. And I'm sure you're thinking, what's the harm of having your ex as a Facebook or Snapchat friend?

Well, because it's so easy for you to creep on them! Once you start falling down that social media rabbit hole, I guarantee that you'll be listening to sad Drake songs and contemplating calling them on the phone...which is a terrible idea. (NOTE- future blog post on this)

Seriously, you don't want to be that weirdo trying to keep tabs on your ex (even if you're in a weird situation where they ask you to wait two years for them and you think you're going to get back together!).

Plus, by having your ex as a Snapchat, Instagram, or whatever follower, you totally end up stunting for the camera. You send up posting cute selfies, and videos of yourself out having fun. Whether or not it's intentional, you totally end up showing them how great you're doing in order to evoke something out of them! Take it from the girl who has posted multiple videos of her out in Boystown, cute hair and bodycon.

Plus if you post pitiful Snapchats of you eating hot cheetos...or on a date, do you really want them to see that? C'mon now.

And now, here comes the question, "When exactly do you delete them?" 

This wise girl I used to be friends with, named Willa told me you have to, as soon as you delete them so that you don't see them over your timeline. I myself am a weird case, as things with Chuck and I were a weird case, but this is what I think- you delete them when you are done. (PS, which should be right when you break up). 

You delete them when you move forward, for real. Even if it requires you playing Fight Song by Rachel Platten in the background when you delete them from Facebook. Only to realize your phone is dead, so you have to wait for it to charge before you dramatically delete them from Snapchat too. (I'm not going to lie, I hesitated for a moment with Snapchat, wondering to myself, "But what's the harm of him seeing my cute selfies?"

THE HARM IS YOU SENDING HIM DRUNK SNAPS, BLAIR.

AND THAT IS ANOTHER THING- you gotta lose them because we all know how people (aka me) get when they're drunk. Alcohol and late nights at the club in a super tight dress with skeezy guys just brings out that sad person that misses being kissed and cuddled by who they think is the bioengineer of their dreams (spoiler alert: your knight in shining armor is a fool in tin foil). Drunk texts are always terrible, and showing up drunk is never cute (I know, this is coming from a girl who still dated Chuck after he showed up at 3 am and threw up everywhere).

And because I am a truly candid person, I will post all of the concerns that I had before finally growing some lady balls to delete Chuck outta here.

(If you are truly strong like Willa, then you block them also...but I'm not that mean or strong, okay.)

BUT HOW WILL THEY EVER CONTACT ME, BLAIR?
The point is that they're not supposed to! That's the point of deleting them out of of social media...deleting them out of your life! Okay, this is how I view things- if they didn't want to be deleted, then they wouldn't have dumped you! They should have known that this was a possibility. Trust me, guys don't dump girls that they want to keep, no matter how long they ask you to wait for them, or how nicely they say it.

Especially if they come back from Mexico and pretend like they never said they had a lot of favorite things about you.

Plus, if the guy on Twitter whose girlfriend messaged him on DirectTV taught us anything, it's that when there's a will, there's a way. If they really wanted to contact you, they'd find a way. And don't try telling me otherwise- they're not living under a rock. If they have Wifi (or even dial-up, tbh), they will find a way to contact you. Or if they have DirectTV!

If not, they'll send a friend or carrier pidgeon.

Plus, c'mon, let's not be dramatic, you didn't block them, they can still try and send you shit. There's a whole industry based on exes sending unwanted messages- there's a book!


BUT BLAIRRRR, HOW ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO KNOW I'M DOING BOMBTASTIC?
OKAY, if you really are doing bombtastic then you shouldn't give a fuck as to whether or not your ex knows it or not. Who cares about that plebeian? They're a peon, they suck, and now they're not part of your life anymore! Live your life for you, because if you care about them seeing how you're doing, you're living your life for them. And trust me, you don't owe them anything else! In the words of Rihanna, and T.I., "just live yo life."

Plus, tbh, social media and gossip spread like wildfire, so if you marry the CEO of Tinder or something, even his mother is going to know.

REMEMBER- guys don't dump girls that they want in their lives...so why do you want them in yours?


BUT I WANNA SHOW OFF MY UPGRADED BOYFRIEND!!!!!!!
Who TF do you think you are, Taylor Swift? Remember that she got her ass handed to her by Kim K, because she's a fake ass snake...

C'mon, this is just petty. And chances are, if you want to show off your new man to your ex, you don't really like him... trust the girl who dated an architect even though he was really really annoying because she liked the free dinners, the flowers, and the snapchat brags!

God he was annoying.


HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GET BACK TOGETHER IF I DELETE HIM?
"REMEMBER- guys don't dump girls that they want in their lives...so why do you want them in yours?"

No, but seriously, if he wanted you, he wouldn't have dumped you. He knew what he was risking, and this is just one of the minor things...

Plus, like DirectTV Twitter man, if he really wants to find you, he will. I promise. (PLUS, I'm just talking about deleting them, your girl said nothing about blocking them!)

(Please don't start thinking about how he hasn't tried to find you, that's just a sad hole you don't want to go into).


But on a serious note, trust me, I know it's hard. It was hard for me, and I lowkey almost cried when I did it. It's closing the book on someone who once was the most important person in the entire world to you, and giving up the hope that the two of you will ever reconcile (at least that's how I viewed things when I did it). But sometimes you need closure, and to not see the stupid videos that your ex keeps sharing with everyone, or the pictures of him tagged by his aunt at their family wedding in Mexico.

No one deserves that.

So, take a deep breath, blast your power anthem, and just press that button.

And please, tell me if you get a message on DirectTV.

(On the subject of deleting their number, I delete the number but send it to a reliable friend in case I ever need it, for a serious reason. Said reliable friend will decide if it is necessary. As for their photos, I upload them all to a Dropbox that I never open).

Delightfully Chaotic (Redux)

“Single is no longer a lack of options – but a choice. A choice to refuse to let your life be defined by your relationship status but to live every day Happily and let your Ever After work itself out.”

-Mandy Hale

-

Current romantic prospects: none

Current desire to date anyone: actually, also none

-

Maybe I'm supposed to want something because Kayresia, Matthew, and all of my other friends are madly falling in love and whatnot. But right now, I'm okay. I am finding happiness within myself, and I'm quickly learning how to have fun- boyfriend or not! I'm just a girl, taking it one step at a time, breathing, living, and perfectly functioning without someone special in my life. It helps that I've recently learned how much fun Twitter can be!

And I know I'm not roaming the streets of Chicago looking like a scrublet because this old man whistled at me THREE times today. He apparently thought I could not hear him, so he kept whistling louder, even though he is a geriatric and I am basically a pediatric. I decided to focus on me- school, life, and ultimately, being happy.

Somehow, I had become that girl who was COMPLETELY okay being single. And to be honest, except for the small bursts when you want to cuddle at night or have sex, it's actually pretty nice. I get to sleep when I want, look hot as hell for myself, and relish in the fact that I'm not wasting my good years on anyone...but myself!

Also, after my faux-pas with Chuck I'm going to consider myself the winner because I didn't anal freak out like old Blair would have, or attempt to talk to him. I did call him, in attempt to apologize over the phone and be polite, but that's a normal thing to do. ALSO, on Facebook he unknowingly likes every perverted/porny post from 9gag, so I'm enjoying that.

This whole thing started when Audrey was being rude as hell about Chuck. I don't know how she thought she was entitled to comment on my choices, which were normal, in the unabashedly discourteous and unsolicited way she did. Anyways, after some comments about how I'm making unhealthy choices, and that I need to get over Chuck, etc, etc (okay, literally, minus the faux-pas I haven't talked to him in three weeks, and I've been fine!), I had this realization that I didn't need to take any of this...from anyone!

OKAY, I admit that I got REALLY fucking pissed, but then I realized that this wasn't fair to me, and that I didn't need to take it! With the stress of work, school, and life, I didn't need someone to be an asshole and comment on my shit. So, I lowkey deleted her out of here! Matthew and Kayresia agreed that I didn't need to take it, and Kayresia commented that the reason that Audrey got mad was probably because Chuck told me (months ago) to stop hanging out with her ass.

And I've been making new friends and I've been socializing! I even became friends with one of Chuck's friends, a very intelligent and nice lady named Ramona.

Ramona (commenting on the story of our break up): Oh my! That's a tragic story. Wow. Obviously you two still care about each yet but he's not being fair to you. And you're not being fair to him but swooping in to help him when he started falling apart! He has a lot of growing up to do. And you shouldn't have to wait for him. The only real way to get over him is to find someone who's better for you. Obviously he needs you, and obviously you need him, but your relationship can't continue like this, because it's just so unfair to everyone. He needs to spend some time thinking about who he is and what he wants! You need to get over him because he sounds truly terrible for you! Like I said before, it's okay to be friends with terrible people, but you have consistently fallen into being more than friends and that's dangerous!

(low key totally stealing her from Chuck)

And as for the whole accidentally messaging him thing- after the initial Blair Bui style freak-out, and comedic blog post, it was really whatever.

Things might have felt like they were falling apart then, but I'm actually very blessed to have such loving people in my life (job and school are still a mess but let's just ignore that for now, okay?)

And I'm doing so well with the whole break-up thing!

Except now, I'm kind of wondering...what am I going to blog about?

I mean, guys, seriously- I started this blog because I date terrible guys, and I blog about it.

What the hell am I going to blog about now?

Even from end of February- end of April when Chuck and I weren't talking I was still going on terrible dates with people and having terrible encounters! But now, it's weird because I don't even want to date anyone, I just want to be a happy, healthy young lady.

WEIRD, RIGHT?

But I'm actually fine, and actually totally living my life.

And I know this sounds like the end, but I swear to you guys, this isn't. My relationship status just isn't a plot point any more in my story, but I promise you things are still going to be ridiculous, hilarious, and delightfully chaotic.