"A fuck buddy is a guy you probably dated once or twice, but it didn't really go anywhere, but the sex was so great, you sorta of keep him on call."

-Carrie Bradshaw

-

My coworker told me this super Nicholas Sparks-y story about how he and his booty call fell in love, and how his booty call ended up being his soulmate. His booty call then died, and then made him his beneficiary, so he got all of this stuff when the fuck buddy died. It made me not want to date Rafael even more, and the thought of inheriting the mountains of clothing made me want to gag myself with a floral printed scarf. God, did Rafael even have anything worth inheriting? Maybe that crock pot?

It somehow became story time, as my coworkers told me stories of caution and gave me unsolicited advice, some of it nice, some of it being of the excessive nature. Multiple people told me that I needed a team of guys, and out of all the guys that I have slept with, there is only one that I would be willing to have between the sheets regularly...and I'm already sleeping with him!

Sure, Louis wasn't half bad, and of course Chuck was great too, but I couldn't sleep with either of them again! And the rest of the guys I slept with...gag me with a fucking spoon.

"So he woke you up in the middle of the night? Maybe he just didn't want you to think that he left in the middle of the night," Gwyneth said. She was a nice girl, and extremely kind.

"It was his place!"

"Then why did he wake you up?"

Everyone had the same reaction: they wanted to know why he woke me up, why he had no toilet paper, and what the actual fuck his roommate was cooking in a crockpot at 3 am. It was Friday, and I had secretly wanted to see Rafael again...but he was out of town for the weekend, back in the suburbs visiting his family. Even though I hadn't texted him since the excursion, I was definitely planning on seeing him again- not in a romantic context though, of course.

After getting home from work, I resisted the urge to text Rafael or Chuck about something frivolous. So, I pulled off the green maxi dress I was wearing, threw my hair over my shoulder in a sexual way, and I took a sexy picture to send to Rafael. Lace bra, banging boobs, tiny waist- all the things that I wanted to show off.

Just because I didn't want to date him, didn't mean that he should forget about me during his little trip. I sent it to him, and then proceeded to eat my kale salad and watch some Netflix.

I read out of my PCAT prep book, swiped through Tinder, I did everything to distract myself from the fact that he didn't say anything back. I mean, I wasn't expecting a sonnet about my body or a declaration of love, even a winky face would have satisfied me! Did he not think that it was bombtastic? Or maybe, possibly, he didn't want to be my booty call?

I pondered this crazy thought for about five seconds- Did Rafael Mancilla want something more than sex?

And then I started laughing uncontrollably. I mean yes, he did text me after the mess we had, he did ask me what I was up to, he has remembered me, he asked to cuddle and talk, and he did want to walk me downstairs before I was such a sassa-fras about it...but he's Rafael Mancilla.

Rafael Mancilla doesn't want anything besides sex, he practically thrives off of sex. For God's sake, he thought that a week and a half without sex constituted as "a long time," and he's slept with over twenty people! I am certain that at least once a week he goes out to pick up girls...actually, to be honest, he's so lazy that he probably just plucks them off of Tinder. He scoops up poor, unsuspecting women that think he's cute and charming, and makes them think that he's romantically interested in them, only to have an excuse as to why he can't date them....and then he fucks them! That is what he does.

And do you know how I know that?

Because that's what he did with me!

And that is why he's on call, and that is why I can keep him on call. Because there's no temptation to fall madly in love, or to scheme and make him my boyfriend. There is no temptation to cuddle with him all night, and to stay up late talking about our hopes and dreams and all that nonsense. No need to go get late night cupcakes, no need to wander the city at night, talking all night long. No need to make boring-ass benches into the most romantic place in Chicago, nor to binge watch Bob's Burgers together. Rafael will not be showing up at 3 am drunk, and Rafael and I will not be hosting Friendsgivings together. So there's no tears, no heartbreak, and no failed relationship and constantly being sucked in.

Because after Chuck, I didn't believe in true love and romance like I did before, I didn't have the hope and embarrassing bravery that I did before. I just had an ice-cold and jaded heart, and I was perfectly fine with that. And that was why having Rafael on call was the best arrangement that I could possibly think of, and what I really wanted from him.

The sexy text was sent, and I was truthfully a little excited for the next encounter.

All She Needs is You....To Stop Waking Her Up

"Trust me, I don't need you."

-Jack & Jack (Doing It Right)

-

I would like to think that I was supremely sexy and that we went at it again because he wanted me....not because he was trying to distract me from the guacamole.

I laid there, frozen against the mattress, as Rafael stood there, panting and practically gasping for air. I'm not going to go into more detail, I'll just say that Rafael likes making messes...on my chest and stomach area.

"Rafael, go get a fucking towel, this is disgusting!" I said, trying not to move. The last time he had made a mess (in February) it was the biggest mess I had seen in my entire life- it was like he hadn't beat it since he was twelve! This time wasn't as colossal, but it was still gross. I had no idea where he had been or what he's been doing, after all.

Rafael wiped me off with a mystery cloth, and chuckled a bit.

"Did you just wipe me with one of your dirty shirts?" I asked, as he chucked the mystery garment back on to Dirty Clothes Mountain. 

"Even worse," Rafael said, grinning at me... "It's my boxers." I looked at him in shock. 

HE WIPED HIS MESS OFF OF ME WITH HIS DIRTY BOXERS.

"Oh my god."

After a little post-sex chatting (We talked about grad school, and he told me about all the things he makes in his crock pot...and what his plans were before he just got a random degree), I excused myself to go to the restroom (Always pee after sex! It prevents UTIs!) 

Upon finishing, I turned to reach for a piece of toilet paper, only to see that there was absolutely none. 

Rafael lived in a house with two other guys, was there absolutely no one in this apartment that was quasi responsible? I looked in all the cabinets and drawers, hoping that some young lady that had previously wandered through this parts had been faced with my dilemma, and then placed some wipes or paper for the next poor unfortunate soul. Nothing. 

To be honest, I was so annoyed with him that I contemplated wiping my lady parts off with a towel, but resisted.

I peeked outside to see Rafael scrolling through his phone, and snuck over to the next bathroom. There was nothing in the second as well.

"You have no toilet paper," I said, walking out of the bathroom.

Rafael looked up at me, and said, "Check the other bathroom."

Was he serious? I swear to you, there is no man more irritating than Rafael Mancilla.

I gave him a look, and responded, "I did. There's none."

"No way," Rafael said, getting up. He walked into each bathroom, and looked at them, in disbelief. "Where the fuck is the toilet paper?"

"I told you so," I said, standing in the hallway as Rafael walked through the living room, to the kitchen. He appeared moments later, and threw a roll at me, which I somehow managed to catch gracefully and without hesitation.

"Nice catch," Rafael said, with a wink. 

I walked back to the bed, where he was laying, under the covers. He looked at his phone, and shook his head for a second, "Fuck, it's midnight already... I'm going to regret this later."

I turned to face him, and gave him quite possibly the evillest look that I have ever given anyone. I gave him phenomenal sex, and he couldn't wait until I left to say this shit. Almost immediately, Rafael fired back, "Not that you came over, but that I stayed up this late. Fuck, Blair." He pointed at the light, "You can stay or you can go, it's whatever you want," he added.

"It's whatever you want, I don't care" I responded. I really didn't, but if he wanted to cuddle all night or feed me guacamole, I wouldn't shoot it down.

"Me, I would go home and sleep in my own bed, but that's just me. I don't know, because you're a girl and shit. It doesn't matter to me."

"Is this your way of telling me to get the fuck out?"

"No, because if I wanted you to get you the fuck out, I would have told you to get the fuck out already."

Now, in any other situation, I would have been like, "Deuces! Byeeee!" and gone home, but I was laying naked in his bed, and I had been laying naked in his bed for a while, and I was comfortable and sleepy laying naked in his bed.

Plus, I didn't care what he thought about me. If I was trying to be his lady or whatever, I would have left in fear of looking too clingy or whatever, but I was tired and I gave zero fucks. I know that guys don't like girls staying because they don't want to confuse them, they don't want to give off the wrong idea, and they don't want to give them breakfast or whatever, but this was none of those situations! I wasn't confused, I didn't get the wrong idea, and I didn't want any breakfast from Rafael! I didn't need or want anything from him besides sex, guacamole, and toilet paper.

"Okay, then I'm sleeping because it's late."

"Okay, but I don't do any of that cuddling bullshit, plus it's hot in here."

I turned the other way, and then pulled the covers up, "That's totally fine, because I don't either, and I don't give a fuck." I could feel Rafael staring back at me in shock, although I was facing the other way. I knew that he was used to being the asshole back to the clingy and sad girls that wanted commitment or something more from him. But I wasn't clingy or sad, and I didn't want anything more from him. 

Later that night...

I woke up, realizing as soon as I opened my eyes that Rafael had woken me up. The last time a guy I was casually sleeping with woke me up was when Johnny woke me up in the middle of the night because he was going to eat Poptarts or some stupid shit like that- which annoyed the living hell out of me.

There are only a few good reasons to wake Blair up-

1. The apartment is on fire
2. There is a murderer
3. Blair didn't wake up when her alarm went off
4. Someone is dying

"Ugh, this better be good," I grumbled, as I sat up.

"It's hot as hell in here, so I'm going to sleep on the couch now."

"You woke me up for this?" I stared back at Rafael in disbelief, half exhausted and half annoyed.

"Yeah, I wanted to tell you that I was going."

My face was now 100% disbelief...was he shitting me?

"Why'd you wake me up for this? Go ahead, more bed for me, I don't give a fuck," I mumbled, as I started to fall asleep again.

I was in disbelief, was he really waking me up to announce that he was going to sleep on the couch now? What the fuck? I didn't care where he was going or what he was doing, and unless he was leaving to catch a murderer or to go to Taco Bell, he should have just let me sleep! I didn't care that his ass was going to the couch. God forbid, did he expect me to go sleep on his nasty frat boy couch?

I made a mental note that just for that nonsense, I should leave when he was fast asleep.

Even later that night...

I woke up abruptly, immediately sensing that Rafael had woke me up again.

"Erghb, what do you want this time?" I groaned, as I rolled over to the left of the bed.

"I'm coming back to bed," Rafael said, as he crawled on the bed.

WHAT THE FUCK.

I gave him the most exhausted, but dirty look I could have. Did he really wake me up just to tell me that he was coming back to bed?

I resisted the urge to push him off his own bed. Plus, I was way too tired to even swat him away. I don't know why, even now, Rafael thought it was necessary to announce his presence and wake me up from my sleep to tell me that he was going to sleep on the couch, and then to tell me that he was coming back.

"Urgh, I don't care," I rambled, as I was falling asleep, "Stop waking me up...I don't give a fuck...sleep."

After that, I definitely was going to sneak out while he was sleeping.

Even more later that night...

I woke up to hear a weird clicking noise in the background.

"Fuck, I'm going to die now, and this is when this asshole doesn't wake me up," I thought to myself.

"What the fuck is that?" I said, as the clicking noise continued.

"Urgh, Blair.." Was he going to get mad for me waking his ass up now? SERIOUSLY? After he woke me up not only to tell me that he was going to sleep on the couch, but also to tell me that his whack ass was coming back to the bed...he was going to get annoyed?

"Go to bed, ergh."

That morning...

"You woke me up twice! I could have lived without knowing that you were going to sleep on the couch or that you were coming back," I said, as I searched the heaps of clothes for my floral printed romper.

"Yeah, well you woke me up all 'what the fuck is that noise,' it was my roommate and the crock pot," Rafael responded, as if his roommate cooking random shit in a crock pot at 3 am was a totally normal occurrence in 214.

What the hell was up with these guys and their crock pots? And what the actual fuck was his roommate making at three fucking AM in a crockpot. And why is this just a totally normal thing? Rafael literally told me that his roommate was cooking (I hope) with the crockpot at 3 am, as if it was nothing strange. Seriously though, what the hell was this kid making at 3 am? Fucking breakfast? Did everyone in 214 make absurb crock pot meals at inappropriate times of the day?

"Why the fuck was he using the crock pot at 3 am?" 

Rafael looked back at me, as if I was the crazy one. He walked out of the room, and I pulled on my romper, and called my Uber. See, I was leaving his apartment, and I didn't even feel the need to announce it or tell him- he left the damn bed the night before, and woke me up!

Rafael walked into the room, and gave me a stern look, as he held up a travel sized tube of Korres moisturizer. He looked at me, as if I was an untrained puppy, and he was holding a torn apart shoe in his hands. SERIOUSLY, you would think that he was holding cocaine or something in his hand, but it was a tiny tube of face cream!

"Did you leave this here?" Rafael asked, in an accusatory term.

"Hell no, that's not mine." I fired back. Did he really think that I was,

1. The type of girl that wanted to leave something at his place
2. Dumb enough to leave that out of all things I could "accidentally" leave there.
3. That I brought a tube of face cream? HELL, if I ever come back to that appointment the only thing I would bring is fucking toilet paper and a toothbrush (not to leave...I just don't want gingivitis!)

SERIOUSLY THOUGH. None of my actions hinted that I was even remotely interested in him. The only things I wanted from him this whole time were sex, toilet paper, guacamole, and for him to stop waking me up while I was sleeping!

"Well I found it in the bathroom, and it's not mine or any of my roomates.' I've never seen it before," Rafael shot at me, accusing me even more.

"What the fuck? It's not mine," I responded, coldly. I zipped up my Kate Spade, as his expression changed in a matter of seconds.

"Oh, okay, it must be one of the girls' that my roommates have had over," Rafael said, casually. 

Okay, so there are hordes of women parading through this apartment. Ew. Maybe I should bring toilet seat covers next time...and get tested for STIs/STDs. I then wondered for a brief moment if it was Crock Pot Boy bringing these hordes of women back.

"Okay, well, my Uber is coming," I said, as I put my shoes on. If there was ever a great time for an Uber to come, it would be that exact moment.

"Let me walk you to the door," Rafael said. He sounded a little bit surprised, and I wondered for a brief moment if he expected me to announce that I was going to call an Uber beforehand. I wouldn't be surprised, because his ass seems to unnecessarily announce everything.

"It's fine, you don't need to," I said, as I headed to the door. It really wasn't necessary, it wasn't like he was my boyfriend or anything. He wouldn't even share his guacamole with me, or get me toilet paper without any snark, and now he wanted to walk me to the door? What happened to "I don't do this cuddling bullshit," or "why can't people have casual sex."

There was a little bit of back and forth ("you don't have to"), but he did end up walking me to the door, and I left, saying, "Okay, bye."

I didn't kiss him goodbye nor did I text him after that. Maybe I was mean, or maybe I seemed icy, but Rafael was trying to be caring one minute, and then heartless the second. Maybe it was because I knew that I couldn't confuse any bit of quasi-respectfulness as something sweet and considerate. Maybe it was because Chuck had left me feeling so jaded about romance and relationships. Or just maybe, it was a combination of the both.

Rafael Mancilla Wanted to Cuddle

“It isn't about love, it's about fun.” 

-Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

-

There was a brief moment in which we looked at each other- I hoped that I didn't look sweaty, disgusting, and weird with my mouth quasi-open. He flashed me a smile, and said, "hey." 

I never admitted it, but I definitely felt weak in my knees. One hundred percent. His stupid suave smile and his asshole-y charm, I was attracted to him, without a doubt. The cockieness, the confidence, the swag, it was a total turn-on sexually, and a total turn-off romantically. Rafael was not made of boyfriend material, he was made of casual fling material. Rafael wasn't a Louis Vuitton bag, he was a fringe-y neon Rebecca Minkoff crossbody. Fun- but not to be taken seriously.

He was texting me earlier about how he didn't want to get dressed, but he threw on a basic t-shirt and basketball shorts. I used to think that Chuck pulled them off, but dayum, Rafael made everything look good. Some of my friends had called him the final evolution of Chuck Cuevas, because Rafael was a Latino man done right. He was tanned, tall, impeccably handsome and built, and spoke of self-assurance. Chuck was always confused for Indian, lanky and skinny, supremely awkward, and stammered and mumbled as he spoke. It was like comparing Michael Cera to Chris Hemsworth. Or Johnny Depp to Robert Downey Junior (sexy as hell). The guy from Dawson's Creek to John Hamm. Bill Murray to Anderson Cooper.

(Also Rafael smelled manly and sexy, and we all know that Chuck smells kinda bad).

He towered over me, in the sexiest way that a boy can be taller than a girl, and I felt his eyes peek over to my ass, which I thought was invisible in my romper. It made me feel good, I'm not even going to lie. Rafael looked at me like I was a fucking woman, like he wanted me so badly. As if he thought I was sexy as hell.

Could you blame me for liking it? I dated a guy for practically two years that rarely acted or said that he thought I was attractive or sexy in his eyes. I'm not going to pretend like it's not a nice little boost, being treated like you're dayum.

"I looked at the stairs, and gave him a look."

"You know I live on the second floor, right?" Rafael said, smart-assedly. I gave him a look and fake laughed, for a brief second.

The stairs looked like something straight out of a horror movie, which surprised me because the lobby, although a little tacky, was quite luxe.

"These stairs are something straight out of Friday the 13th," I commented, sassily, as he checked me out from behind.

Rafael opened the door, and gave me a smug look. "Talking shit already, and you're not even in the apartment yet."

"What did you expect?" I said, flashing him a coy smile.

"My roommate's asleep," he whispered, as I tip-toed through the hallway. Rafael opened his bedroom door, to reveal a mint green room with piles of clothes EVERYWHERE. As I entered, I nearly slipped on a pair of boxers sitting on the ground. I held my green Kate Spade Mini Rachelle on my forearm, as I stood amongst the mountains of clothing, and Rafael sat on the bed.

"Is no where good enough to put your purse down?" Rafael asked, jokingly, as he noticed that my eyes were scanning the room for a place to set it down.

He pointed to the nightstand, "You can put it there, dust won't kill it or anything," he said, snarkily.

I gave him an annoyed look, as he laughed. "I'm just trying to keep it clean! I just bought it!"

I sat down with him on the bed, and the two of us sat there, as I quickly noticed that he had no television in his room. Upon realizing that, and commenting, I thought that Rafael would rip my romper off and take me right then and there, so when he suggested that the two of us cuddle, I nearly dropped my jaw to the floor.

RAFAEL MANCILLA WANTED TO CUDDLE?

Before...

We cuddled, and just talked.

...I know, I'm about as shocked as you guys are. As we laid there and cuddled, and I was getting comfy, I was confused. Isn't Rafael heartless, and

Rafael asked me about how my day went, and how work and school went, which confused me a little because I thought there was a 99% chance that I was just there to have sex. But I heard Matthew's voice in the back of my head telling me to play along, and to give Rafael a chance if he really wanted it.

We talked about his job, and graduate school, and all sorts of random things. He and I were cuddling, as he stroked my legs, and didn't even try to take my romper off. It got to the point where I thought he only invited me over to cuddle and sleep (Whose bed was I in and what the fuck happened to the real Rafael Mancilla?), and although confused, I went along with it.

"I haven't been laid in a while," I admitted, as we laid there in his bed. It was the truth, the last time that my strings were plucked was in late April, when Chuck and I "made love," *eyeroll.*

"Me either," Rafael said, sighing. I didn't know whether it meant an actual while (oh my god, what if he hadn't had sex since the last time we had sex?!) or like a few days.

"What constitutes as a while?"

"I don't know, what do-"

"I haven't gotten laid since like, end of April," I said, boldly. Rafael looked at me, his eyes nearly popping out of his eye sockets.

"It's been like two months!"

"I mean, like...a week and a half.." Rafael mumbled, as I laid there, in his arms.

"I think people should be able to have sex, just to have sex. Like none of that attached feelings stuff, like you don't have to date someone to have sex," he said, completely changing the situation to, Blair we definitely are going to casually smash in the next half hour.

"Yeah, I actually agree, but there is a fine line between having fun once in a while and fucking every person in Chicago," I said, as Rafael was surprised at my calmness and indifference in his opinion. He looked at me, as if I was expecting him to be my next boyfriend or something, and as I have said before, I don't want to date Rafael Mancilla.

"I mean, yeah, but girls sleep around too."

"Yeah, and guys do too, and they end up sleeping with like twenty people."

"Who would even-" Rafael paused for a moment, "Wait, I've slept with over twenty people."

And there you have it, my point is proven. Not boyfriend material. And, ew. As soon as those words left his lips, I don't know why I didn't throw the covers off of me, grab my sandals and Kate Spade bag, to sprint out of 3950.

Holy shit, was I definitely going to make his thotty ass wear a condom. I was glad that I had good enough judgment to buy that three pack from Target.

"I got tested recently, like a few months ago," he said, detecting my surprise.

"Good, but you're still wearing a condom, because you could have chlamydia or something." I smiled sassily, as Rafael continued to run his hands over my legs.

After sex...

"Holy fuck you were tight, like are you a virgin or something?" Rafael laughed, as he laid on the bed. I gave him a smug look, as I pulled the covers over me.

"...We've had sex before."

"I know, it's just, you were so tight, damn. That was damn good."

I laid there, basking in the post-sex glow, feeling like a sex goddess. Rafael was next to me, sweaty, exhausted, and in shock. 

"Don't worry, I'll fuck you again later."

The two of us laid there, and continued to talk. It wasn't anything revolutionary, really, it was just the two of us laying there and talking about different things, from the size of my boobs to Koreans getting plastic surgery. The conversation was easy and breezy, and I didn't have to think for a second before responding to him. He was cocky, snarky, inappropriate, and foul, but it still didn't change the fact that he was damn sexy. After all, I wasn't looking to date him.

We continued to talk, until the subject of my blog came up. 

"Yeah, I blog about dating terrible men."

Rafael turned to face me, and then laughed. "Dating terrible guys?"

"Yeah like this one time this guy followed me twenty blocks from Water Tower to City Target asking me why I wouldn't date him," I said, nonchalantly. You guys, side note though, I don't think that Johnson Baker story will ever get old. That little petty Betty.

"What did he say?" Rafael asked. Clearly I had piqued his interest, or maybe he was just curious because the whole situation was so freaking ridiculous.

"He asked me why I wouldn't date him or go on another date with him... Why I wouldn't give him another chance, that kind of stuff." I left out the part where Johnson got mad that I said that Rafael was smoking hot in front of him. I didn't need to boost his ego any more than it was boosted by himself.

"What did you say?" For a brief moment, it seemed like Rafael genuinely cared and really wanted to know. Maybe it was because he was tired and didn't try to put up a facade, or maybe it's because we were laying naked next to each other under some silk sheets. I didn't need for him to care or give a fuck about me romantically, or even as a friend, but I'm not going to lie and say that it wasn't nice. 

"The usual kind of stuff, that I didn't feel sparks and that I didn't want to waste either of our time." That wasn't a total lie, although I definitely out the part where I yelled at him on a pink line stop. 

"Are you going to blog about this?" Rafael asked, with a smug smile. His smile was stupid stunning, although I hated to admit it.

"No, I only blog about eventful things," I responded sassily. The two of us laughed, although I knew that I was definitely going to blog about this damn thing. I promised you guys total honestly and full disclosure, and even though I change names, I always keep it real and keep things updated.

(PS, I hadn't heard from JFK yet)

We talked, and chatted under the covers, until,

"That's why I ate you out," Rafael said, "It's also because I was chopping peppers earlier, so I couldn't use my fingers. I made some bomb ass guacamole today," Rafael commented.

He said the magic g-word.

"You made guacamole?" My eyes practically lit up at that point.

"Yeah, got some avocados, peppers, garlic salt...going to have a nice little lunch tomorrow."

I leaned in a little bit closer, and asked, "Can I have some of your guac?" I tried to bat my eyelashes and be as seductive and alluring as possible,

"No way, that's for my lunch tomorrow."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"You're not going to give me any guacamole? I just totally rocked your world- you came in like two seconds!"

I gave him a snarky look, was he actually serious? He wasn't going to give me any of the guacamole he made? If there was any way to ruin your chances with Blair Bui (not that there was any chance of him dating me before that), this was how to do it. No matter how much I batted my eyelashes, and tried to be cute, Rafael wasn't caving.

"I don't even have chips or anything to eat with the guac."

What kind of heathen was he?

I pulled the covers off of me, and sat up, in full view of Rafael. I twirled a loose curl in my finger, and gave him the sexiest smile I could, channeling my inner Victoria's Secret bombshell. (If only Chuck's whack ass could see me right now, muahahahaha).

"Are you trying to tease me?"

"Maybe," I said, flipping my hair to my back.

He looked right back at me, piercing me with those eyes, and flashing a coy smile...and I knew exactly what that meant.

Boss Ass Bitch Blair Condoms

"The key Mindy, is to find a man who you are attracted to, but don't respect and can't see a future with."

-Dr. Jeremy Reed, The Mindy Project

-

Rafael and I had ended up texting for a while, after I sent that text. After flirting, some back and forth banter, and the acknowledgement that neither of us had plans for that night, I agreed to go see his new place in Lakeview.

That is, after I went to Target.

Rafael kept trying to tell me that there was a Target in his area and that I should just come over, but I had to make him walk. Plus, full disclosure, I was kind of sweaty and gross from walking to get Mario's Iced Lemonade, then waiting in line amongst the college boys trying to impress girls and suburban tourist families. By the time I walked to Target, my messy waves had collapsed and I was sweaty and gross. My chic floral printed loose romper, green Tory Burch inspired sandal ensemble was no longer as chic as I had intended. Mostly because the model was now sweaty and gross.

As I walked into Target, I threw my hair into a messy bun as it cooled off from the humid air outside. I ran around the beauty department, throwing a mini Dove deodorant in my cart, and hurried, until I realized that this time, Rafael was waiting on me. I took my time walking around Target, picking up a lip and cheek stain, some Listerine strips, and as I passed the condoms, I paused for a moment.

Did I need condoms?!

A million thoughts ran through my mind, in approximately this order:

• Are you going to have sex with him, Blair?
• Didn't you learn last time that having sex on the first date is a relationship killer?
• Like it totally kills any chance of a relationship.
• BUT WAIT
• I don't want a relatonship...especially with Rafael
• I mean he's super hot and tall and hilarious, but he's also a total asshole
• A really, really sexy and super confident asshole
• I'M GOING TO DO IT
• I'm going to have casual sex
• Blair Bui, you are killin' it at this single thing
• Oh my god
• Oh my god, I'm Mindy Kaling in that one episode where she tries to have casual sex
• She says to choose someone that's super hot, but that you don't respect....THAT WOULD BE RAFAEL IN A NUTSHELL
• Wait doesn't she fall in love with that guy she hooks up with?
• And he leaves her for a super hot small Asian woman?
• But I'm a small Asian woman!
• OKAY, Blair, focus. Condoms.
• Oh my god, this is the condom aisle that Chuck was in the first time I asked him to buy us condoms.
• That was actually kinda cute, he was soo nervous that he stood in the condom aisle for twenty minutes because he just didn't know. And he bought the max protection!
• Oh my god, why are these condoms $4 for a three pack?
• Do I really need to buy condoms?
• I mean, he's a guy, he should have condoms, right?
• Blair, you shouldn't assume that he's just going to have condoms...
• Wait, should I even be assuming that we are going to have sex?
• How many women buy condoms? Is it sexist to assume that the guy should get the condoms?
• Okay, well... just buy the damn condoms. Knowing Rafael's ass, he won't have condoms.
• Condoms are $4, Plan B is $40....children are like 250k total to raise according to that article on Jezebel.
• Oh my god, 250k. 
• I could buy so many Kate Spades.

I threw the condoms in my cart, and vowed that they would now be the Boss Ass Bitch Blair Condoms, and not the Chuck condoms. In order to get rid of some bad memories, you gotta make some good ones, right? I walked around a bit, taking my time, until Rafael texted me, asking if I was coming still.

Blair: Let me pay for my shit at Target, damn.

I called the Uber, and it eventually arrived. A bitchy girl with a Whole Foods bag was in the car, and we picked up a girl with a bright indigo Rebecca Minkoff Mini Mac, Whole Foods had judged me hardcore as I tried to resurrect my melted hair, and throw some cheek stain on my cheeks. I put on my current favorite lipstick (Rapture by Urban Decay, it's a pinkish berry color), and secretly put on the ninety nine cent mini deodorant that I put in the back of the car.

The ride was so long, and we passed so many Taco Bells that I began questioning my life decisions and was highly tempted to ditch Rafael for a beefy crunch burrito. We drove down Irving Park road, towards Rafael's building, and as we got closer, my heart beat a bit faster in nervousness.

I hadn't had casual sex in a long, long, long time.

I'm not going to count Johnny, because I was so sad and heartbroken over Chuck, but the last time I had casual sex was with Toronto...and with Jake Reagan. The thing with them though was that they were charming and very nice guys, Toronto more of a friend, and Jake a guy that I thought I loved when I was eighteen. Rafael, however, was not charming, nor my friend, nor lovable. He was Rafael.

To recall: 

February 2016, Rafael: And yes, you can be mad at me all you want. The funny thing is that I never planned on ignoring you and not hitting you up. I was gonna honor the whole date thing. Why not? But then you send some psycho ass text. And continue to text me shit insulting me. Whatever though, thanks for letting me know I dodged a bullet from the beginning.

(He totally planned on ignoring me and never hitting me up. He was not going to honor the whole date thing.)

Rafael was twenty three, ridiculously handsome, and full of cockiness and swagger. He knew how to charm women and how to manipulate them, he treated women that he slept with as if they were expendable, as if they were used tissues. He reeked of secret resentment, and I think he became that way because some girl smashed his heart to bits, and created this monster that lives off of casual sex and that coasts through life.

Which is what Rafael had been doing- he had a steady (but not permanent in any way, or serious) job, he had partied and slept around with women (more on this later), and he had coasted through life on good looks and confidence. But even though he was sailing through life, he didn't know what he was doing or where he was going, he had no destination. And it was clear looking at him that he didn't want anyone with him for the journey.

The Uber dropped me off in front of the massive complex.

He lived in 3950, which was a nice looking building with doormen and security- far more impressive than my student staffed University owned apartment. I was impressed at the upgrade in housing that he made, considering that he used to live in the boondocks in a frat boy-style housing situation. Maybe in the months since Rafael and I spoke, he grew the fuck up.

I walked into the cream and beige metallic themed lobby, where a doorman sat at a desk.

"I'm here to see Rafael in 214," I said, smiling politely. The doorman scanned me from head to toe, taking in every detail about me. I wondered for a brief second if Rafael had said something about me, if he had made some remark or told crazy stories about "that Asian girl from Tinder." He gave me a small nod, and then asked me to sign in, before buzzing me into the building.

As soon as I opened the door, with each step I took, my heart beat faster, until I turned the corner and saw him staring right at me.

I was in for trouble.

The Wolf of LaSalle Street

“Our moral economy went bankrupt long before our financial one.” 

-Steve Maraboli

-

"Janet, what's a hedge fund trader?"

NOW, before you start harping on me about not knowing what a hedge fund trader is, I knew the general bits about being a hedge fund trader...I just wanted to know the specifics. Janet went on to explain what a hedge fund trader was and what they did. As soon as she finished explaining everything, she turned and looked at me.

"Why, are you thinking of dating a finance boy?"

"Yeah, actually, I am."

Janet looked at me, and then started laughing. "Well, good luck to you, then."

"What do you mean?" I asked, instantly, giving her a look back. What was she talking about...JFK was PERFECT. He and I were destined to walk around in Lincoln Park together, he would wear a Ralph Lauren plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of shorts from J.Crew, and boating shoes. I would wear a sundress from Anthropologie, with Tory Burch sandals, and a cute bag from Kate Spade (Fordham Court Marielle, perhaps?)

"Finance guys....let's just say they're their own type of people. They are always busy, always working, and they work hard, play hard." She said it in such a warning kind of way that it made me nervous. I quickly typed it into Google, and found TONS OF ARTICLES warning me about Finance guys and the dangers of falling into their traps. I quickly envisioned The Wolf of Wall Street, and then took a breath. Could JFK really be that bad? Was he secretly The Wolf of LaSalle Street? I ignored the premonition, and continued just living my life and sitting at work, drinking my Pamplemousse La Croix.

I had gone through JFK's profile at least five times ("Chicago, NYC, and Boston. Hedge fund trader, world traveler emeritus, and industrial tourist.") before I came to the realization that he had not messaged me back yet.

-

A summary of our conversation:

Blair (around the time I got off of work yesterday): Why'd you come to Chicago?
JFK (7:23 PM): I didn't choose Chicago--Chicago chose me!

He used an em-dash. How intellectually sexy.

JFK (7:23 PM): (jk)
JFK (7:23 PM): Chi wasn't a natural place to move but I had a very compelling job offer here so it seemed like the right call
JFK (7:23 PM): What about you? Are you a bonafide native?
Blair (7:46 PM): My family lives in the suburbs, and I've always loved Chicago since I was a little girl so it made perfect sense to move here for college! So I guess I'm a native hahahah

And then, in a Tavern at the Park food coma, I did something, in a moment of weakness (and fullness from risotto). I double messaged him.

...I know, save the lecture.

Blair: Where are you from?

I decided that it was fine because he had previously sent me four messages in a row.

It would not be until 6:24 am the next day when he would answer me, something that I found strange within itself. He was twenty two- did he really not check his phone except for six in the morning? Why is he awake at six in the morning? Was Harvard being bombarded by so many women that he just didn't know what to do?

JFK (6:24 AM): Yep I would say that counts...native status is now yours!

Um, okay, am I playing a video game and unlocking accomplishments? I guess dating could be considered a game, in a strange kind of way. Except it's one where you never win!

JFK (6:24 AM): (unfortunately in this case I do not think it comes with any special preferences for hiring, university admission, etc)

In the case of me dating him? In the case of us talking to each other? In the case of me moving to Chicago to go to college? Why did he talk like an old entitled white man, and what on earth is he babbling about? Was he going to be like this on our date?

I decided to give him a pass, although he did have hours to come up with something witty to say back to me.

JFK (6:24 AM): I grew up in DC and went to school in Boston, and my spiritual home is New York although I reside here
Blair (7:52 AM): I've never been to DC, but I have a couple friends that grew up in that area! I also love San Francisco and Dallas-Fort Worth feels like a second home, although I would never live there (my grandmother does and I visit a couple times a year when she's feeling sick and for holidays)

-

It was noon now, and I had heard nothing. Was my response weird? Was I not Ivy League enough to date JFK, who spoke with the tone and dialect of an older Southern man (imagine Jody from The Mindy Project)

I texted Rafael, in an attempt to distract myself.

Blair: Are you really going to pretend like you don't know my name? I was just trying to be nice.
Rafael: Blare. I know your name, idk why I didn't just ask that
Blair: Savage AF, I was about to say. Blair.
Rafael: My bad, it autocorrected.
Blair: It's okay, that Mexican boy from Tinder
Rafael: That's me. So what's up, why did you just text me?
Blair: I was at the bars and my friend mentioned "that guy from Tinder with kidney problems" and I felt bad for being a bitch

Total lie. Complete and utter lie. But Rafael didn't need to know that.

Rafael: Turns out my kidneys are good.
Blair: I'm glad, that day of fasting and date cancelling didn't go to waste
Rafael: Yeah I'm glad I got that check up lol
Blair: What have you been up to?
Rafael: Not much. Working, chilling, how about you?
Blair: Working, drinking La Croix, school, PCATs. I blog now too.
Rafael: Fun fun fun

Was I really going to do this?

Blair: Read at 2:07 pm

-

It was now fifteen minutes before I would leave work, and as I realized that Audrey cancelled plans with me, I took a deep breath. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad... falling into the rabbit hole, that is. I swallowed my pride, and I sent Rafael a text.

Mrs. Blair Harvard

“Patience is a virtue and the best things in life are worth waiting for.” 

-Julie Spira, The Perils of Cyber-Dating

-

Karley Sciortino. Sinderella. All the fearless, bold, effortlessly chic and sassy women out there who blog about terrible guys that they date. And of course, yours truly.

After a weekend in the suburbs, an accidental haircut, a new Kate Spade purchase, and a spontaneous break up, I knew that my rom-com was just beginning. Cue Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall. After making a Tinder, deleting it, and then remaking it again, I promised Matthew and myself that I would keep it for at least a week. After finally leaving Chuck behind (translation: I tried to be cute, I realized that he was still being a stupid little bitch, and then text-yelled at him and accidentally butt dialed him twice, then proceeded to post a cryptic Snapchat), and embarrassing myself with Rafael and Jason (translation: I tried to text them both being cute, Rafael was confused because he had long deleted my number...and Jason didn't text me back) I realized that I needed to expand my horizons.

Despite my fear of guys with Asian girl fetishes and weird finance guys, I downloaded Tinder and told myself that I wouldn't delete it after a week. I mean, I haven't had the worst experiences...right?

Um, besides Jason Cross, Johnson Baker, Ted Chang, Jake Reagen, Rafael Mancila....every guy that I've met on Tinder.

OKAY, Jake Reagan was not that bad! Except for the part where he broke my eighteen year old heart into pieces and then moved to Milwaukee, never to be heard from again.

Okay, you guys, if I had gone to U of I instead of staying that weekend where Chuck showed up drunk, things could've ended up not completely terrible! I could have been one of those Buzzfeed listcle people, and talked about how I met the love of my life on Tinder, again. Or I would have gone back from U of I, and realized that Chuck and I were meant to be (at that time).

Okay, I fucking admit it, I have met some shitty guys on Tinder. But I've met some shitty guys in real life too! It doesn't take an app to date terrible men, although people might think otherwise.

I was trying to be a better person, I mean, you get what you give, right? I had decided to let go of the fact that I had sacrificed and did so much for Chuck, only to have him treat me like complete and utter shit. Karma could do my dirty work for me, as I was focused on being positive, happy, and kind.

Rafael: I'm confused lol but alright
Blair: I'm pretty sure if you remembered who I was you'd be like, "what the actual fuck?"

Mostly because I yelled at him and called him a schwag fuck boy- but he deserved it! He lied about kidney failure and I had to go and buy Plan B by myself! AND PAY FOR IT BY MYSELF. It wasn't like in Master of None- no Martinelli's was given to me! I did not receive an Uber ride home courtesy of a nice Indian actor man. I mean yeah, he was an asshole, but I was trying to be cute or something when I texted him.

Rafael: I'm already thinking that because you have my number, know who I am, and I don't lol
Blair: I figured, and I actually hit you up because I felt bad for being such a bitch about everything...my ex and I broke up like a few weeks before we met and I acted ridiculous. I'm really not terrible! And you get what you give, right?
Rafael: Lol are you that asian girl from tinder?

-

"But didn't you guys know each other?" Audrey asked, as we walked around City Target. I had decided to not respond to Rafael, because I was trying to be a good human being, and the only response I could think of was, "You know damn well that you know my name, asshole."

"YES, Audrey, we did know each other. For fuck's sake, the two of us talked for like a week before we had sex! And how many Blairs exist in the city of Chicago, come on."

"Maybe he for-"

"AUDREY, he knew my name, we talked and flirted and it was like a week and a half of build up before the sex! He even knows Chuck's name. He's just being a little piece of bullshit because he is a fuck boy."

"Maybe he's heartbroken because you think he's a fuckboy and he genuinely had feelings for you."

I burst out in laughter, laughing uncontrollably in the middle of City Target. "Yeah right, Rafael?" As I took another step towards the chocolates and candies, my phone went off.

"UGH, it's probably another match." 

I had agreed to keep Tinder for a week, and it wasn't a terrible idea. The dating pool in my social network seemed to be non-existent, considering that I can't date any of the med students at my school after the whole Louis, Johnson, Jason, St Baldrick's thing, and because all the guys at my school seem to know about the Chuck Cuevas and Blair Bui romance....and every guy in this zip code. I needed to expand my horizons, and keep an open mind. I couldn't help but fear what psychopath Tinder had in store for me...

Johnathan. Harvard. Hedge Fund trader. Twenty two...and ridiculously handsome. As I mentally imagined that our relationship would be like, Audrey interrupted.

"Blair, he has pictures with Korean BBQ, maybe he has an Asian fetish," Audrey said, bursting my bubble.

I gave her a look, and shook my head, "Audrey, don't burst my bubble, Harvard and I could be soulmates!"

"He seems too good to be true, he might be a Catfish."

I typed in 'Johnathan Harvard' into Facebook, and he popped up immediately.

"Johnathan Fa-Kassam."  He was definitely hot enough for me to throw on a little green dress and some wedges...but would he be fun enough to stick around past the third date?

When Blair Finally Leaves Chuck, For Real.

“It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.”
-John Green, Paper Towns 

-

Sometimes I think that if I had never talked to him again after Friendsgiving, then I would have never ever been in this mess. And then, I think that if I had never talked to him again, and listened to Shane, then I would have never been in this mess. If I had done either of those things, I wouldn't have written that personal statement that got him that internship, or those two papers for his Jazz History class. I also wouldn't have fallen in and out of love with his whack ass, like sixty times over the span of six months. And I wouldn't have known for sure that there was nothing worth staying for.

It's actually kind of ridiculous, what happened this time, how Chuck literally disappeared. We were so close to going back to where we were, we had already fallen into bad habits. But even as I began to fall back into my old habits, I couldn't help but feel like this wasn't what was supposed to happen, and this wasn't what I deserved. I couldn't shake this gut feeling that I deserved better than all of this. 

In the months that I had been on my own, I had learned so much, and I had grown so much. I had learned to mend my broken heart, and how to stand on my own two feet, as the entire universe looked at me in pity, as if I was missing something. As everyone looked at me, thinking, "Poor Blair, she's all by herself after Chuck left her," I actually felt more complete than I had in the nearly two years that I spent with Chuck. I might have been by myself, but I had never felt stronger or fulfilled in my life.

And when we started talking again, I couldn't help but feel like I had grown so much, and that he was still the same. He was the exact same asshole that threw me into a ditch, the same asshole who broke my heart on my favorite fictitious holiday. The same guy who cared more about a laminar flow hood than he cared about me, the same guy who treated me like garbage and his asshole friends like they were gold. The same guy who lied and was faker than the shirts he brought back from Mexico.

And now, looking back, I'm ashamed that I was so foolish, and I'm ashamed that it took so long for me to finally leave him behind. But I think life happens for a reason, and people show up in our lives for a reason. They teach us lessons, whether good or bad, and I think from all of this I've learned that people really can change. One day, they're making you laugh uncontrollably and rubbing your tummy when it hurts, and the next they're getting randomly mad at you and disappearing to Mexico. And from these relationships, you learn what you want, and what you don't. 

But the only way you can really move on is by leaving. It's the hardest thing you can do, and it's what I struggled with the most. By leaving, you give up, you let go of hope, and you let go of any chance that anything could happen. But the truth of the matter is, no matter how hard it may be, often times, when you leave something, you go on to find something much, much better. And as hard as it was, I just couldn't shake the feeling that I just had to move forward, and that I had to leave him behind.