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

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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.

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

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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

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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.

Rafael's More Than Nice

“From what you didn’t say, lies that you did say.” 

-Dejan Stojanovic, The Creator

-

I'll skip over the marginally boring part- the part where I struggled to find the most eloquent way to booty call Rafael. We had ended up texting earlier that day, and to be completely honest there was nothing salacious or spicy about our conversation.

A small segment of the most uninteresting booty call text exchange that lasted two hours:

I have taken the liberty to translate what we were saying, in case you are incapable of reading between the lines.

Blair: What are you up to tonight?
Translation: I am about to booty call you.

Rafael: Shit, probably gonna go to the gym and meal prep for the next few days lol 
Translation: I know you're trying to booty call, so I'm gonna sound too busy and too cool, so you really gotta ask for it. Even though all I have planned is smoking weed with my roommate with the crockpot fetish.

Blair: Well how about we hang out lol 
Translation: This is me booty calling you.

Rafael: Idk if I'll have time 🤔 
Translation: I'm probably going to booty call YOU later to exert control, so I'm in control.

Blair: Okay have fun by yourself then 😏 
Translation: Yeah, I don't play games, have fun playing with your hand.

Rafael: Lol stop trying to tempt me with sex before I cave 😭 
Translation: Wait, no, I still want to have sex with you.

Blair:I'm pretty sure you've already caved..and you're just trying to convince yourself otherwise 😂 
Translation: Bitch, I know you want to fuck me, stop pretending otherwise.

Rafael: Haha nah I'm just bummed out bc I know I have to go to the gym and make food 🙁 
Translation: Just because I want to have sex with you, don't forget that I'm a busy guy or whatever.

Blair: You have a roommate that cooks with a crockpot at 3 am lol 
Translation: Hey remember your weird ass roommate with the crock pot fetish that woke me up at 3 am with his crock pot?

Rafael: I might make something in my crockpot today actually 🤔
Translation: I fucking love my crock pot.

The conversation continued, and it was boring. So boring that I'm not even going to blog about it in detail.


-

The booty call hour...

After work, I took a nap, and then when I woke up at around 10:30 to study, I got a little distracted at 11 pm and decided to booty call Rafael. As in Chuck was all over my timeline because he liked a bunch of people's posts. That's the annoying thing about him, he never posts anything, but he always ends up on my timeline, without failing, at every point of every day. But that's irrelevant. Point is, nearly messaged my ex, decided to booty call Rafael again.

Blair: Are you going to fuck me or what?
Translation: Are you going to fuck me or what?

Rafael: Lol it's bedtime
Translation: I'm really going to make you ask for it.

Blair: Okay have fun by yourself then 😏 
Translation: LMAO, bye, I'm going to study for the PCATs now.


-

The morning after...

Turns out guys, you don't have to be in a relationship to fight like a couple.

I was feeling a little bit curious, quite honestly. And brazen and bold (but when do I ever not feel brazen and bold?). So, I finally asked Rafael what I had been wondering this whole time.

I asked him if he had feelings for me.

HAHAHAHAHAHA, no. I'm just fucking with you guys.

I had always wondered who broke Rafael, or what exactly made him such an asshole when it comes to relationships. I had never met someone in my entire life who hated relationships more than he did, and who was more jaded than he was. Maybe it was a combination of him being super obviously conventionally attractive, stupid charming, and suave enough to get 85% of women to sleep with him. But I was smarter than that. He reeked of the desperation of a man trying to "play it cool," aka the same desperation that a thirteen year old who just discovered Axe reeked of.

Some girl had broken him, and she was obviously a bad ass bitch.

So obviously, being a nosy young lady, I wanted to know. After all, there wasn't really anything exciting in my life besides the typical school and work stress. I had deleted Tinder, ignored Chuck permanently, and even removed Audrey from my life. I was trying to be a better person, and I was trying to be kinder.

And you know, be a better person and whatnot.

BUT ANYWAYS, so I asked him....

Blair: Okay so I'm a pretty perceptive person, and dude you are the most anti-relationship and jaded person I've ever met lol. And it's not necessarily a bad thing- I'm jaded in my own ways and un-relationshipy in my own ways. But dude what happened to you lol, did some girl break you or something 😂😂😂
Rafael: Lol nah I'm just not gonna pretend like I'm interested when I'm not 

I thought for a moment that maybe he was trying to tell me that he didn't want to date me, but I concluded that probably not. I mean, after all, I had no intention of dating Rafael and had made it crystal fucking clear.

Blair: There's a difference between being normal about it and being flat out like "I only fuck bitches" 😂 

Literally, Rafael always (paraphrased): "Relationships are fucking stupid and I only want to fuck bitches."

Rafael: So being normal would be leading girls on? 
Rafael: No, that's selfish

From a mile away, I could forsee this turning into an unwanted argument, Johnson Baker style.

I'm going to try another way to transcribe texts, one that is most relevant to this conversation.

So, remember how I said I was trying to be a better person?

Blair: That's not being normal
What Blair wanted to say: No one told your ass that you needed to lead them on, you just need to not be such a fucking asshole

Rafael: I'd rather be honest 

Blair: Being normal is being honest but polite
What Blair wanted to say: You are definitely not honest, and you definitely need to be less of an asshole

OKAY, and I know someone's going to say, "But Blair,"

1. Ted Chang
2. Target Child Molester
3. Johnson Baker
4. Derek
5. Nash
6. EVERY GUY BLAIR HAS HAD TO AWKWARD TURN DOWN ON CLICHES OF CHICAGO

And I'm going to say back, "Guys, I was polite and honest with all of them!" Y'ALL, the only one I was polite but dishonest with was The Target Child Molester because, duh, child molester. AND NASH, but he was about to kiss me and stuff, and he was begging for a second date! And he could have drowned me on the beach!

PLUS THEY WERE WHITE LIES, not Rafael rude-ass faking kidney disease BS.

Rafael: How am I ever not polite?

UM,

1. When you faked kidney disease
2. When you hit it and quit it
3. When you sent me that rude ass text
4. When you didn't give me guacamole
5. When you wouldn't give me toilet paper
6. When you woke me up randomly in the middle of the night
7. When you accused me of leaving random shit
8. Every time you open your damn mouth

Blair: But I shouldn't even be giving advice because I'm incapable of letting people down
What Blair wanted to say: You are literally one of the biggest assholes I have ever met in my entire life. And I know assholes- I've dated med students

Rafael: I don't say anything mean

What Blair wanted to say: *eyeroll emoji*

Rafael: I don't ignore you like I planned on

What Blair wanted to say: Please take your broccoli and chicken eating ass away, and try to ignore me, please.

Rafael: I think I'm more than nice

Can we all take a moment and laugh at this one?

Rafael: But if you don't think so then you don't have to talk to me.

I didn't say anything back to any of his last texts, I just let him relish in his fuck boy fuckbaggery and continued with my day,

I Don't Even Want To Have Sex With You Anymore, Rafael Mancilla

“The difference between sex and love is that sex relieves tension and love causes it.”
-Woody Allen

-

As Rafael ignored my texts, I decided that it was a lost cause. Okay, first I analyzed everything that happened between us since we met in early February in excruciating detail, reread texts, and let him annoy the living daylights out of me. But then, I decided it was a lost cause.

Okay, he isn't even that hot...I don't even want to have sex with him anymore!

Except he is stupid hot, and I may possibly would sleep with him again.

You see, in moments like this, people often distract themselves with someone something to keep themselves preoccupied. With the PCATs approaching, I wanted to make flashcards to intensely study for my exam (and review). So, that is how I ended up wandering through the aisles of Target at 7 pm at night. I put my phone on silent, and simply just walked around, wandering the aisles and picking up miscellaneous school supplies. I stood out in the crowd of nearly suburban mothers meticulously picking out supplies for their children, but I didn't care. I just kept distracting myself, as I picked out pens and pencil pouches.

And then suddenly, without any warning, it hit me. It hit me like when Kayresia asked Louis what his intentions were at Carnivale. It hit me like how Chuck spontaneously dumped me after the Friendsgiving from Hell (I don't think I will ever be able to blog about that) even though I straddling him in a black scalloped lace bra. It hit me like that booze hit Chuck the night he showed up drunk at two am and threw up everywhere. Spontaneously, ridiculously, randomly out of fucking no where, it hit me like a monster truck with flames painted on the sides.

And I stood there in the school supplies aisle, having quite possibly the most melodramatic moment of my life.

You know that moment in the movie when the main character walks and has an inner monologue to themselves as sad music plays, like some super depressing epiphany? That was me!

Well, you know, except I didn't start my monologue yet.

As I put the green pens back on the hook, I thought to myself, "Wow, I miss Chuck so fucking much." The feeling overwhelmed me, and it just hit me out of completely nowhere.

"I miss talking to him, and seeing his stupid broken nose. Having him text me when I'm freaking out, or having him tell me that shit's going to be okay. I miss cuddling with him at night, and having him sana sana my stomach when it hurts. I miss going out on dates, and binge watching Hulu. I miss the late night conversations, and staying up so late to the point where he says, 'Blair it is too fucking late.' I miss all of it, whether I want to admit it or not, I miss Chuck. And there's no kidding that I'm definitely attracted to Rafael, and totally secretly into him...and he definitely doesn't want me either. And I'm not the girl that wastes time or needs a guy to want her, but-"

"Hey, do you go to UNI?" A random guy asked, completely interrupting my internal monologue.

I stopped in my tracks, and resisted the urge to wheel my cart away, and to ignore him completely. Out of all the moments that he could have stopped me, he chose now? During my main character internal monologue moment? I mean, c'mon! This was the moment in Clueless when "All By Myself" plays and Cher walks around in the shops, contemplating her life.

"Everything I think and everything I do is wrong. I was wrong about Rafael, I was wrong about Chuck, and now Chuck hated me. It all boiled down to one inevitable conclusion, I was just totally clueless... Oh and this whole Blair and Chuck thing was wiggin' me more than anything. I mean, what was my problem? Chuck is my pal, I don't begrudge him as a boyfriend. I really... (looks into a store window) Oooh! I wonder if they have that in my size! (comes out of the store with bags in tow) What do I want with Chuck anyway? He dresses funny, he listens to weird Mexican music, he's not even cute in a conventional way... I mean, he's just like this slug that hangs around the labs all the time! Ugh! And he's a hideous dancer, couldn't take him anywhere. Wait a second, what am I stressing about, this is like, Chuck. Okay, okay......so he's kind of a Baldwin. What would I want with Radael, I couldn't make him happy, Rafael needs someone with an open imagination, someone to take care of him, someone to laugh at his terrible jokes in case he ever makes any...the suddenly....(pause) Oh my god! I like Chuck! I'm majorly, totally, butt crazy in like with Chuck! But now I don't know how to act around him. I mean normally I'd strut around in my cutest little outfits, and send myself flowers and candy but I couldn't do that stuff with Chuck."
**I modified the original monologue from Clueless (1995)
***I also do not love Chuck Cuevas at all.

But seriously, where the actual fuck did this guy come from? Could he not tell that I was deep in my fucking thoughts and having a Clueless internal monologue?

I had a brief flashback to the last time a guy tried to pick me up in Target.

Was this a new thing now? I feel like a girl really shouldn't have men try to ask her out on dates more than once in a Target. Maybe Men's Health dubbed it a new thing- picking up uninterested girls during inappropriate times at Target, especially when they are having an internal monologue.

I could tell you all what the conversation was like in detail, but honestly all I remember is me being completely disinterested, and him grilling me with questions as I looked at the display of squeeze tube applesauce behind him.

"I know it's okay to miss Chuck, sometimes, and to want a little more effort from Rafael as-"

"What's you name?" Random Target man asked me, once again interrupting my thoughts. I had completely forgot that he was trying to talk to me, as I had completely zoned out in my thoughts.

After a lukewarm conversation, he finally left me alone, and I wheeled off.

Yeah, the way I felt about Rafael and Chuck were different, one was a matter of sex, and the other was a matter of love (gag), but the common denominator of both was that they were annoying the living fuck out of me.

-

"I was supposed to go on a date with this guy, but I lied to him and told him that I was going to get back with my ex boyfriend." That had been my go-to excuse, for a multitude of reasons. Trust me, after having Johnson Baker follow me twenty blocks asking me why I wouldn't date him, and having the guy from Fannie May standing on the beach begging me to go on another date, I've learned that it's best that you don't flat out say that you're not interested in them. It crushes their fragile ego, and not only will they never leave you alone, but they'll ruin your chances at dating their hot friends (*COUGH* COLLEGE OF MEDICINE ST. BALDRICK'S EVENT 2016).

"You have to stop doing that," Kayresia said, as she told me about this new guy she was seeing. I was really happy for her, if anyone deserved to be with someone great, it was her!

"It's just... I just don't want to waste my time unless they're really great."

"How are you supposed to know that they're great if you keep lying to them and blowing them off?" She laughed for a bit, and then continued telling me about what she had been up to.

"There's just not any guys around here," I admitted, as I zipped up my green Kate Spade bag. "And maybe it's because I'm jaded because of everything that happened with Chuck. I mean, of course I'm fine but having that kind of stuff happen to you changes your perspective on things."

-

"What about all the guys barking up your tree?" Vance asked, as he wrote something on the office whiteboard. "They all sound pretty nice."

"Like the one who tried asking me out in Target?"

"Why are guys always asking you out in grocery stores?" Cora asked, raising an eyebrow.

I'm sure all of you remember, but there was that one other guy who asked me out while Audrey was buying Yeezys in Target. You know, the guy that told me he fucked a fifteen year old when we was twenty two. That date was so bad that I had to call Chuck and ask him to pretend to be my friend who was bawling tears uncontrollably because she got dumped.

"What was his name?" Vance said, with a smile.

"Don't remember," I admitted, "He interrupted my inner Clueless monologue and was so boring and irrelevant that I didn't even really pay attention to the conversation we had."

"You know, here's something crazy- why don't you be more open to giving guys a chance?"

"Because I've done the date a nice guy thing, I've dated the guy that's funny but awkward, my best friend and boyfriend, where we binge watch Netflix and fall in love and whatever, I've done it, and it failed. The relationship failed, and of course I'm not going to let one relationship define me, but I've done it already and I've done it before. And right now, I don't want to go through that again."

"Then go get you some!"

"I also don't want to go around fucking every guy in Chicago either. I just want to be happy, focus on myself, and go on dates. If I fall in love, cool, if I don't, it's okay."

Tremendously Unbreezy

"So, I'm just checkin'. So let me know, or don't, whatever. I'm breezy."
-Monica Geller, Friends

-

In one episode of Friends, Monica (me AF) says that she is "breezy" when she leaves her ex boyfriend a voicemail, even though she was conspicuous as fuck. Urban Dictionary defines breezy as "acting cool and aloof so the person you're talking to doesn't think you're trying too hard." I am not breezy. I am not aloof. I am extremely obvious, ridiculous conspicuous, and tremendously unbreezy. I drink La Croix for god's sake, even my water is trying too damn hard.

But we aren't talking about ex-boyfriends (he shall not be named after he pissed me off... The time in July, not the time every other month he's made me want to claw his eyes out), we are talking about my awkward attempt at casual sex. You see, every time I've been in a casual sex relationship not relationship situation, the guy has always hit me up (Johnny) or he showed up when I told him to (Jake). So when Rafael completely ignored my question about the dirty picture I had sent him, and then proceeded to NOT make future sex plans with me, I was honestly floored.

I mean, it's not like I was naming our future children or planning to leave tampons and thongs all over his apartment-- the only thing I needed from him was for him to have fucking toilet paper and to stop waking me up at two in the morning for absolute nonsense! AND for him to tell me what his roommate was cooking in that stupid crockpot at three in the morning. And I thought Chuck's friends were weird!

Was I approaching things the wrong way? Maybe in my attempt to NOT date him, it had completely deterred him from wanting to ever see me again. I mean, I wore sexy as hell underwear (although that's never stopped a boy from dumping me... *cough* friendsgiving 2016), I was funny and chill (or at least what I thought was funny and chill), I was casual and indifferent about him, and I left in the morning and didn't demand him to pay for my uber, walk me out, or order me breakfast. And I didn't even text him or say anything until the next time I wanted to smash... Wasn't this how booty calls worked?

Why on earth would I be extra nice, extra sweet and flirtatious, try to trick him into relationship things, and text him regularly? I did that already--and it led me into being fooled for the ten millionth time by Chuck! All that wasted energy could have gone into something useful, like learning to play the piccolo or perfecting risotto.

You know, I went to the Taste of Chicago with Yael, and he told me that Chuck wrote in his staff yearbook thing (I don't even know, Campus Housing is weird), "Even though Blair got custody of you, we still have to hang out." YEAH FUCKING RIGHT. Yael risk his life and hang out with my ex boyfriend/archenemy? I don't know what possessed Chuck to write that, he should have just written the truth, "Yael, I want to pretend to be a good person to spite Blair, because we both know she's annoyed as hell that after our breakup everyone thinks she's the Asian spawn of Satan and that I am a Latino Angel."

Yael, also, after hearing about why I'm done with Chuck (this time), said, "How do you deal with this? I would have been so done."

ANSWER: I don't. I don't talk to him and I don't deal with the shit.

But I digress.

I thought that I had done everything right, I had acted sexy, but cool. Casual, but kind (okay, maybe I was kind of a bitch, but he deserved it!). Wasn't this what guys wanted? A carefree, independent, hot girl that would be willing to have regular sex with them, without commitment.

"Have you thought that maybe he likes you?"

And I've gone over this, for the ten millionth time. Chuck will probably be in a relationship before. Rafael will ever, Rafael is far too busy having irresponsibly casual sex with random girls. He's less serious than a mullet, more careless than a biker without a helmet. He literally gives no fucks, and he's not going to give that up for anyone. He's Rafael- asshole extraordinaire and player.

Even my regular sex commitment that I wanted was probably too much for him.

With Chuck busy making flow hoods and stupid lamps, and Rafael off fucking all of Chicago, I was exhausted and tired of all the nonsense. I was overworked, stressed as fuck, and way too busy with everything going on in my life. Maybe I was a fool to think that things would come easily- that Chuck and I would get back together and live happily after, or that Rafael and I would get under each other until I lived happily ever after. Finding someone isn't easy, even if you're trying to have casual sex.

But that's why they call it one in a million--because it's rare and extraordinary.

Sometimes people think that they should go back to their ex because they feel lonely or comfortable with their ex, but that doesn't mean that you should stay... It means that you haven't found the right person yet. You can't settle for comfortable or base your decision on what previously worked or previously made you happy. Because it's the present now, and this is when you make decisions for the future. And maybe magic will come soon, or maybe it will come years from now. Regardless, you can't just give up the hope that there's someone phenomenal out there.

So yeah, maybe I hadn't found the guy or the booty call of my dreams, but I was healthy, happy, and surrounded by people that I care about. I was moving forward and meeting new people, exploring new things and places. And I was going to be perfectly fine.

On Call, Not On Chuck

"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.