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."