Fat Chance

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

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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!