What. A. Whirlwind. I know I say this every week, and maybe this week was especially exciting due to seeing it at the movie theatre on the way to meeting my future in-laws, but I'm still pretty positive it was the greatest story in all of television. But then, any episode of anything that starts with Dorota catching Blair givin' herself a little morning glory is guaranteed to be perfection.
Serena, thinking Dan won't find a way to fuck up everything, gets him to counsel Blair on the sensitive art of 1) locating your heart and 2) bleeding feelings endlessly from it at all times. Serena does this because she loves Blair and wants Blair to at least admit that she loves Chuck, but forgot the chink in the plan which involves Dan being really helpful for 42 minutes and then fucking it up at the last second. Why is it okay this time? Because he totally does it on purpose in retaliation for B's misuse of Vanessa last week, which makes him a sick bastard and fully under the Machiavellian Gossip Girl spell, which are two things he needed to start being about five miles back.
Little J makes friends with Agnes the Model (aka Kaitlyn Cooper, the greatest character ever on television besides Taylor Townsend), who gives her a Poppy Lifton speech about how Eleanor is a vampire sucking the youthful ideas out of Jenny's mind and soul, and obviously a fifteen-year-old -- given enough elbow grease -- can create and market their own fashion line. After Eleanor eats her face off for fucking around during work hours, Jenny fully quits Waldorf Design in a hail of chiffon, leaving Eleanor starving for blood. Then -- to the rousing faux-lesbian sounds of t.A.T.u. -- she and Agnes get into their bras and panties and dance around for a RISD photog. At last, she is saved by Knight In Shining Armani and current homeless person, Nathaniel Archibald... And then they make out! Finally!
Dan tells Blair to seduce Chuck through lying and saying she loves him, which is pointless because it's not a lie. Then he tells her to utilize the Horowitz Maneuver and show a little relentless skin. (This reminds boys of being naked, and then they think of sex.) Sadly, she goes way overboard and acts kind of pathetic. Round three: He sends her to ambush Chuck at the Bass/van der Woodsen home, because God knows he's snuck in there like a hundred million times to pull one romantic douchebag maneuver or another. This almost works, but the fake bad-girl texts between Serena and Blair, intending to make her braver, end up hurting Chuck's feelings because he thinks they're still gaming.
Cutie weirdo artist Aaron Rose has an installation at the Bedford Gallery, where he meets Serena and they form an intense connection, even though he is like the George McFly teenage version of Rufus Humphrey crossed with a more charismatic Dan. Who manfully reconciles himself to the idea of his ex dating a smarter, more successful version of himself, although he's a little thrown when Serena realizes she summer camped with him at Lake Geneva and thus has known him her whole life. Aaron takes off with another girl, but it's not the last time we'll see him, his slightly skeevier Humphrey looks and awkward shyness, his Harold Waldorf love of scarves, or his totally bad-ass moped.
To his credit, once Dan realizes that B truly loves Chuck he tells her to take the risk. Which would have won the day, except then Vanessa Effin' Abrams whines to him and he ends up pulling a Tonya Harding on Blair's confidence, ruining the night for both our star-crossed lovers. They have a truly intense fight in which they say I Love You about sixteen billion times, but without actually saying it because no take-backs, and things look really bad. On the roof! Chuck's favorite place!
After a tongue-lashing from S, Lonelyboy apologizes to Chuck and tells him about his part in their clash, and about B's feelings, on her behalf. For once, I feel great about Dan Humphrey, because he spends the whole episode being super sweet, takes five seconds to do something truly awful, and then immediately makes up for it by putting things back in perspective for everybody. Even Vanessa has a point: between Dan moving Nate into his home and becoming Blair's on-call Life Coach, V really does have every reason to think his life has become a baroque prank to make her feel horrible. Yet another reason to love him this week.
Chuck visits Blair and explains to her that, although they love each other insanely, they both know it would go to hell if they actually tried to make it work, so the game has to continue because they love that slightly more than they can handle giving up control. With a tear running down her face, okay, Blair agrees to defer their romantic feelings -- and her ongoing belief that living inside fairytales is a possibility -- as far ahead as forever and just keep fucking (with) each other. And it's just as hard on Chuck! It is epically amazing.
As are you! XOXO.
Blair does everything with an eye to best practice, but I would have to say waking up to breakfast in bed, so to speak, is just the confirmation of that theory. She wakes up with morning wood and stays hard all day long, unlike her inconstant inamorato: Open on shots of the city, intercut with Blair and Chuck in the limo. He explores every single spot of her, going downtown for real as Gossip Girl smirks, "Every girl fantasizes about finding her Prince Charming. But if that prince refuses to come..." It doesn't mean we should follow his lead, Blair seems to have decided. "A girl has to take matters into her own hands." And so begins the best episode of all time, or at least since last week.
Robyn, who persists in existing and having these random "comebacks" like there's somewhere to come back to besides the days of like Snap and CeCe Peniston -- unless you, unlike me, are a creepy bisexual Scandinavian raver -- sings about it with her usual lack of melody or substance and her generally off-putting Pink-esque vibe of having something to say aggressively, and then refusing to say it: "You don't mind the fall until/ Your face hits the ground/ Crash and burn girl/ You keep on banging your head/Girl your face is all red/Crash and burn girl/ Going down down down down down..." And just as he is, if you know what I mean...
Blair jumps upright in bed at a knock on the door: Dorota summoning her for breakfast. "I'll be down in a minute. I just have to finish something." Blair's total weirdness about everything plus counterintuitive joyous acknowledgement of the awesomeness of sex? She's gotta be a Virgo. I'm calling it. "Don't forget: God always watching, Miss Blair," says Dorota, half-turning before she takes off. Blair sighs, smiles and lies back all dreamy.
Jenny runs around like a fluffy little chickadee with its head cut off, spurting crazy and Sumatran everywhere, in a double-cute blue plaid dress that sticks way out, Judy Jetson-style, with a pink netty petticoat underneath. It's probably the cutest thing she's ever worn, because it takes that Betsey Johnson thing she's got going on and actually makes it something from this decade instead of the postmodern Prairie where she usually parks her Little House. "Wait no what do you mean the herringbone won't arrive until tomorrow the meeting with the buyers from Bloomingdale's is today no I don't care about Italian customs..."
Dan laughs that Jenny could power the city in the case of a blackout, and Rufus admits that he's dizzy as she circles around them like she's got something mechanical unspooling in her tiny little body. "Fine then you can be the one to tell Eleanor that yourself." She hangs up. "Stupid! Stupid Italians!" Dan agrees, lamely: "Oh I know, with their pizza and pasta and... Michelangelo..." and Rufus returns the serve smartly: "...But apparently not their herringbone."
(And after the hinterland of nerd-joke, generally crappy writing that plagued last week's dialogue, I'm willing to give it high marks. I mean seriously, when even Lily van der Woodsen-Bass is splitting simple infinitives and talking like a not-particularly-bright high school freshman? "I clearly think that you could benefit from a little structure"? Fuck was that? I mean, it's true that I've met exactly two TV writers in my life who can spell simple words or even locate their shift key, but still. Invest in a script editor who speaks English, because I can buy that shit from anybody besides Lily and Blair, and this season has been a grammatical shitstorm, which throws the entire show off.)
"Dad you don't understand Eleanor put me in charge and it's a really big deal!" Jenny shrieks, loading up on her fifth pot of coffee. Rufus begs her to breathe, but no: "No time for oxygen! I am late. And I forgot my homework!" Isn't the point of homeschooling that it's all homework? Or else Waldorf still has her sorting samples, I guess. Or, cleverly, this is a microcosm of the episode and she's talking about the sketchbook, which she mentions several times and ends up still leaving at home, because trying to keep all your bases covered without keeping your shit together is a great way to have zero bases covered. She runs off, possibly into a wall for all we know, and Dan complains that she's making him feel like a slacker. That's not Jenny, that's God who's doing that.
"Maybe I can help you fix that," Rufus says, like it's a favor. "Tomorrow night's the Ermrose opening at the gallery. Vanessa and I could really use your help setting things up." Dan's like, "Urnfreblowns is that artist you discovered up at RISD, right?" And since neither of them choose to pronounce this important new character's name in any way, the exposition goes straight down the sink. "Yeah, the kid's amazing." Wait, what kid? Grimbletooth. Frunewocky. You know, from RISD? Erbleschmidt.
"Homework headset handbag check check check I have to pee guys have you seen my sketchbook?" She goes rushing into the bathroom, as the boys' negligent slacker reflexes try to catch up to her and start yelling, too late, because there's Nathaniel Archibald in all his naked glory, not even bothering to shift his towel or do anything but blink winsomely at her through his bangs. And she slows way down, because naked Nate is a cause célèbre on even the most methed-up morning. He's like, "Did you do something to your hair?"
...Wait, okay, I forgot to mention because I liked the dress, but her hair and makeup? She looks like something that crawled up out of Patti Smith's garbage disposal. Nude lipstick, an amount of eyeshadow roughly equal to Mischa Barton's metric weight, and an ice-white, monochrome Tufnel mullet. She's washed out and creepy like a tweener Gollum looking at you out of the drain; all you see are the intense eyeballs coming at you like whoa. We all float down here. Google "ganguro" and you'll understand why we don't go to Shibuya anymore: The Chupacabra formerly known as Jenny Humphrey.
"Shorter. Blonder. I was... I was bored," she says. And so I killed myself, and came back as a ghastly thing! "I like it. It looks... it looks good." Oh wait, Nate likes it? Then I like it! I'm willing to admit that I am not as fashion forward as I used to be, and much like it took me months to comprehend skinny jeans lo those many years ago, I'm willing to believe that in some kind of future ... wasteland ... this look will be cute. Which frankly is the point of fashion, especially the Cobrasnake/Vice hipster guerilla-going-nowhere kind we're about to learn all about: getting somewhere retarded way before anybody else.
I say, if a tube sock around your arm and quarterback stripes on your face and granny boots/fanny pack feels appropriate for you to wear outside the house, you get bravery points for at least listening to your soul, and probably you are interesting in some way that masks deep, pitted, shattering need, which is my favorite kind of person. Personally, I think the only thing lamer than having a unique personality is expressing it, but whatever. They lamely dance around and she heads for the door, vowing to pee at work. Nate giggles and flexes and does most of his usual things.
Blair -- looking amazing in a blue tie, ruffles and the cutest blue white-polka-dotted umbrella -- feels the limo sliding up beside her before she looks. "Want to get in? I'd love to give you a ride," Chuck says, just as subtle as ever. It's a pretty simple exchange he's asking for, but Blair's not budging: "Oh, I'm sure you would. Too bad you've made the terms of that arrangement impossible." Chuck puts on the puppydogs and says he's had second thoughts about that. The limo stops like he's driving with his mind. "Come on, get in. Blair, resolve fading fast, suggests that possibly she doesn't want him anymore, with zero commitment in her voice. He makes a sweet face and begs: "Don't torture me. I'm dying..." She thinks about it just a moment too long, and then, fatally, steps toward him. He hits the lock, causing a horrifically hurt face on her part, and he grins. "All you have to do is say those three magic words." Or any three appropriate words: "I. Hate. You." He rolls it up and goes away and she just about pukes. Never give in! That's how they get you!
Jenny's hemming some ever-so-Chico's clown pants on a ridiculously short model named Agnes, better known as Kaitlin Cooper, who calls her "dude" for the first of a hundred times and compliments her dress. Jenny thanks her "on behalf of Eleanor Waldorf designs" and Agnes says she recognizes the top of Jenny's head. That's exactly how Chuck recognizes Nate! "I think I recognize your feet," Jenny agrees, and they laugh insanely. Jenny notices the Bloomingdale's buyers arriving, and excuses herself to warn Eleanor. "Should I take notes, or what do you...?" Eleanor gives her a confused look and Jenny reminds her that she was told she could sit in. "Well, not today!" She needs those stupid clown pants done! She runs over and kiss-kisses the guy, and takes him off to show him some boring old-lady crap. If Jenny didn't already look like she'd been run over by a stagecoach, she would look that way now.
Luckily Nate comes running in -- sadly, clothed -- to give her the forgotten sketchbook, and they giggle and shine at each other some more without actually saying anything, and he finally takes off. Agnes is all over it, teasing Jenny, and there's a pretty good abrupt ending to the scene with Jenny tish-toshing Agnes's intimations of a love connection, and ribbing her about it. "He thinks of me like a little sister!" Yeah," Agnes says, "A little sister he'd like to do." Hard to say that grody line in a cute way, but somehow Agnes pulls it off.
In the courtyard between classes, Dan spots Serena and runs over to ask how "AP Economics" is treating her, which I love Serena exactly enough to believe, and she cracks a funny joke about how Isabel cut short a "rousing debate about inflation versus liquidity" by calling her godfather Warren Buffett. They sit down and talk about how they tried to be friends and Dan fucked it up for the fifteenth time but he wants to try again, which is remarkably similar to the many conversations they had about how they kept trying to date and Dan kept fucking it up but really wanting to "try" in some unknown fashion that involved no accountability or effort. However, since Dan is absolutely amazing in this episode the first time ever, we won't speak of that again. "We were young and stupid then!" Serena says, about like yesterday or the day before. "Now we're older and wiser..."
S and Lonelyboy are getting their dimples on as usual when Blair shows up out of nowhere, shoving S down on the bench to sit to her, breathlessly exclaiming, "You have to help me destroy Chuck Bass!" Dan jumps up at her approach, like a hot potato, and Blair thanks him for fucking off, but Serena tells him to wait. "If you're having a problem with Chuck, then a man's perspective could be helpful." 1) How? And 2) What man? "Just because you two are making a doomed attempt at being friends doesn't mean I have to play the enabler," B snots, but S begs her with that sad face. "Well," Dan says calmly, "If you're plotting against Chuck Bass, then I'm ... sure I can think of something." Blair's like, Fucking you want in on this? Check it out. "Fine. I have an itch that only Chuck can scratch and he won't oblige unless I tell him I love him."
After Serena and Dan recover from the imagery, Dan's like, "You need help getting Chuck to sleep with you? Really?" Blair points out the judgment in his voice, and Serena swears he's working on it, and suddenly he is. "I'm sorry. Uh, no judgment. Only help." In a funny, grossed out-but-nonjudging voice he's like, "So... do you love him?" She screeches loudly that she does not, and he's like, "Why not just lie and say it, then fuck him?" Not exactly the most novel idea, he points out: "Frat guys have been doing that since forever."
Dan writes grotesquely unaware stories about his own life, because he doesn't really understand a reality that doesn't include him (and thus his completely natural but solipsistic viewpoint). Blair turns her whole life into a story so she can remain blissfully unaware, because the last thing she wants is to be included in messy old reality. They're two ways of introverting, but neither of them are all that helpful. B tries for the first time to explain this incredibly huge gulf between them, which in this case is that Dan is painfully literal and doesn't understand things that aren't said out loud, while Blair's desperate to get by on inference and pretense and never actually say anything. Not the sex but the thing behind the sex: "I can't. If I say it, then Chuck wins." He shakes his head. "Right, but if you say it then you get him, and you win." Blair throws up her hands and turns back to Serena. "See? This is totally pointless. I was thinking I would just disappear for a while and give him a taste of life without me." Not when you've both worked overtime to twist Hard To Get into a funhouse Möbius pretzel of insanity, you don't.
Dan chimes in again, this time helpfully, explaining that boys are dumb and forget things that aren't in front of them: "No no no, that's a terrible idea! Don't disappear, become unavoidable. Chuck may be a deviant, but he's still a man. So just... You know, drive him crazy, wear him down." So well done no points off for the obligatory, funny followup: "You should be good at that." Serena smiles and B gives him a backhanded compliment about finally getting interesting, and Serena is all over it, giggling about how nice their little trio has turned out to be, and B flees. "Even broken up, you guys make me nauseous." Serena shrugs and smiles, because why would you turn down awesomeness when the alternative is thinking yourself into a tiny little ball of stress, and meanwhile B's bouncing across the courtyard like those multicolored ping-pong balls in that car commercial.
Eleanor, once the Bloomingdale's guy is safely out of the room, is all smiles and cosseting, apologizing to Jenny about leaving her out of the meeting and with a predatory glint in her eye that you and instantly recognize even though Jenny's not there yet. You knew the second Eleanor brought up All About Eve that she was already feeling like Margo Channing, in the same way that the second your boyfriend accuses you of cheating on him is always the moment you can be sure he's cheating on you. She whines like they're old friends about how the guy was all about season, which freaked her out for some reason like she's not been doing this for decades, and she's like, "Oh, incidentally and completely tangential to everything I just said, he really liked the dress you're wearing. Jenny giggles and blows glycerine bubbles and throws her skirt up over her head and whatever you do instead of paying rapt, suspicious attention, and Eleanor -- assured that Jenny is not actually here for this conversation -- goes, "Barneys and Bendel's are coming tomorrow. I have to have something to show them..." She stares at Jenny's head, waiting for the hamster to start running around in there, because what Jenny doesn't get is that she's not even a girl anymore, just like a giant hovering cartoon turkey leg, and that's why Eleanor's holding a knife and fork.
"Um," Jenny says brightly, "You could show them this dress!" Eleanor shrugs elaborately and is all, "GREAT IDEA, GENIUS! You're so pretty and funny and smart! I never would have thought of that! Give me the motherfucking dress." Jenny, thinking she's making a completely different deal than the one she's making, tries to negotiate an in with the buyers tomorrow, and Eleanor -- who knows how to play refrigerator mommy better than anybody, which is why Blair is broken -- gives her a totally conspiratorially and maternal smile. "Absolutely. When those buyers leave here, they will know the name Jenny Humphrey!" Jenny does a backflip and Eleanor switches back to her real actual scary self. "So, you are going to have to remake that dress. In my fabrics, of course," she says, sliding a bolt toward her. Jenny, patternless because she's this intuitive creative genius just waiting to pop, worries because that's not a lot of time to take her dress apart and make a new one, and Eleanor's gaze gets harder. "You expect me to reschedule Barney's and Bendel's?" Jenny slinks off. And you know what? No bad guy here. If I say "I am totally going to use you up and burn you out, okay?" And you say that's cool, then the asshole is you. I have to explain this to guys all the time, and it never ceases to amaze, but then, that's just another version of the game Chuck and Blair are playing, to wit:
Blair sits on Chuck's limo at some undefined UES time and location, in her cute earlier outfit: Humphrey Lesson One: Be Unavoidable & Unsubtle. He smiles hugely when he sees her, and she offers to go get a drink. "Want to say those three little words? Then no drink." She asks if his fear comes from a lack of self-control and crosses her legs, revealing sexy white garters and lace-topped stockings. She eyes him up, but he's mesmerized. He doesn't take his eyes off her for a moment as he leads her around the car and opens the door for her. "Spotted: Upper East Side beauty, laying down the gauntlet for her favorite beast. But careful, princess. It's gonna take more than a little leg to get this prince to ravish you..."
Which is totally correct, which just goes to show that Blair has actually been driven around the bend by this new Bass gambit, because this is the point -- the door opening, him acceding -- is when she should throw away the Humphrey Lessons, because this is the part that she knows. She's given in just that tiniest, tiddliest bit that Dan was right about, and now it's back to the game. But because she's at wit's end, she's going to stay on the Humphrey train and completely forget herself. All she needed was for somebody to write the story so she could put herself inside it, and Dan wrote a great first page, but that's where it should end. Blair's willpower has always been her greatest quality, obviously, but the thing that makes you awesome is always the thing that makes you suck so she bends it to making these -- as Gossip Girl keeps hammering this week -- fairytales come true and invariably they end up with not a whole lot of the original Blair ingredient that made the recipe so tasty in the first place. Watch, because in this episode Dan's always right but not completely right, and because she's Blair and throws herself into things like this, she overshoots it instead of tempering it with her own gorgeous brain. And all that means is that she's really in the wilderness. The thing about the Lessons, the Rules, is that they tell you what Men Are Like, but if you forget what You Are Like in the process, you'll always always lose, because not even Jenny Humphrey can be Jenny Humphrey 24/7.
Libation: "I'll have one drink with you, unless you can convince me why I should stay, of course." Blair says she's there to be friends, regardless of their "impasse on a certain issue," and then without pausing crosses the line into abjection. Albeit with some awesome dialogue. "So... Ever since Charlize Theron became the face of Dior, I've wanted to change my signature scent. I've been trying out a new one, I can't decide if I like it." She tosses her hair back and offers him her neck. "It smells a little like ... desperation," he says after taking a whiff.
There was a moment -- forgive my lack of Youtube Fu today, but I can't find a good copy -- in an early season of The Hills when Lauren does that ridiculously fabulous "I want to forgive you... And I want to forget you" thing to Heidi, and Heidi looks at her for a split second and stands up, grabbing her purse: "Well it's been great seeing you bye!" Back when Heidi had a Zen and Tao and a soul, at the tail end of that time. I just love it and I have it in my pocket in case anybody says anything truly appalling at some point, because way to cut and run. "This has been great, but I'm going to bolt faster than the human eye can follow. Thanks for your hospitality!"
Anyway so Blair grabs her martini and blows it off: "Yeah well I'll just keep on looking thank you you've been very helpful." Her hands are shaking. "To friendship," she says, raising her glass, and then... oh, B. She spills it all over his crotch, and immediately starts rubbing at the stain. That is some painful shit right there. He stands up with a towering rage: "I gave you a shot." Her face falls, because my God. Blair Waldorf, pulling this embarrassing shit? She's dropping pieces of herself and marbles all over the place, and it's so ... gross. And hilarious. "While your efforts were admirable, I'm bored." She gets even sadder, and then the real bomb: "And you ruined my pants." She begs with her eyes one last time, and he says goodnight and leaves her standing there. Ugh, that made my tummy hurt. I've embarrassed myself to a similar degree plenty of times, but in a more screaming-obsessive-car-window-shattering mode, not so much with the grabbing dick method, but still: What are you doing to yourself when you give up control?
In the Bedford Avenue Gallery, Grimbletooth is applying the last of his mighty words to the wall. Because it's an installation, you see, of deep shit in big letters on the wall, crossed with some kind of irritating, incomprehensible microphone system and glowing ball of bullshit, everything commenting on everything else and thereby deconstructing the nature of communication itself like something found in a balled-up tissue by Jacques Derrida's bedsit. I will not hold it against Schnerdlyfroo because I like him, and because: whoever sent Rufus Humphrey trolling at RISD knew what they were doing in about six different ways, because not only is it empty and silly and Nineties, but it's also Beginner Art for Stupid People, which is exactly what Rufus should be selling. Remember in the Yale episode when Blair warned Serena about studying Semiotics? This is literally why.
Serena enters looking for Dan, and without looking up Schnellodinsky is like, "Dan is in the café with Vanessa, opening up cheap bottles of blended wines for my embarrassing opening," and then he finally looks up and spots whatever torturous thing she's done to her breasts today and feels the first-ever stirrings of heterosexual desire deep within his Buddy Holly-bespectacled, skinny-jeaned self. Somewhere in a closet in Red Hook, a gigantic grey scarf begins to knot and unknot itself nervously, hoping he'll stop at bi so it can still come out and play at least occasionally.
He stands up nervously and asks her to look at his ridiculous art, and the part he's gluing to the wall right now says "SOMETIMES WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES..." and the huge block of boring self-important regurgitated text beneath includes such chestnuts as "you are both the author and the..." whatever the grimblefuck, and elsewhere it says NOTHING TANGIBLE OR PERMANENT IN THIS ROOM, okay? I can't wait to meet the undergrad Theory Survey professor that took this kid's virginity, because he did some fucking damage.
Serena, wiser than she knows, goes "Um, well, I don't know much about art. But I do know a lot about spelling, so..." Which is awesome, right, because that's all this is: the public, phallic logorrhea of somebody who has learned precisely half of why we use words. Not art, just spelling. "Oh no..." she says after a moment, "I think maybe you should have had someone proofread it before you stuck it to the wall..." Guattari & Deloser, freaking out that she or he might have offended the magic spell of the precious words, starts crying and she's like, "Kidding." He pretends not to be put out but he totally is, and they introduce themselves as he's referring multiply to her abuse and harassment. He takes off the glasses and introduces himself, properly enunciating his name: Aaron Rose, the UES Artiste in Question, Dan's cautionary future, Serena's new feller.
Vanessa mentions going to find Rufus where he's freaking out in the "storage space," which is maybe code for where they do it, and Dan's like, "If his right eye starts to twitch, that's when you have to break out the valium," but Vanessa says we've already hit that point: "The caterer thought he was hitting on him." That caterer is lucky to have dodged the Humphrey bullet, I think. Dan's phone rings, and it's Blair, so of course Vanessa shits herself on the way to handing the phone over, and he's like, "It actually matters this one time, weirdly, so step off with the guilt face."
Blair's in her car going home from her humiliation, and whines -- not like his enemy, but like she would to Serena -- that his encouragement to throw herself at Chuck has now completely filled her up with humiliation. The one comestible she can't just barf up again. Even Dan can hear it in her voice, how they're friends now: "Chuck was completely unmoved!" Dan asks if he wasn't just playing it off, and Blair hilariously admits there was no "hard evidence of that," and Dan gets a little barfy his own self. "I didn't even get the chance to show him my necklace tangled up in my hair. The nape of the neck is Chuck's Kryptonite!" Dan files that one away for when he finally does it with Chuck, which at this rate will be week, and pretends to be horrified. "So he just ... got up abruptly and he left?" Oh, Blair: "Like a Bass outta hell." Dan tells her this is exactly where she wants him -- and again, he's right at this moment in time -- and sends her to beat him home to the Bass/van der Woodsen suite, ambushing him. Blair is quiet, and then smiles sweetly, agreeing.
What Blair Says: "I'll let you know what happens."
What Blair Means: "Thank you. We are friends now, until you fuck it up again, and I officially invite you into my life, because you are proving to be dependable and caring, which is all that I require. All I ever wanted was a reason to like you."
What Dan Hears: "Nape...ape...ape. Kryptonite...ite...ite... Itch and scratch...atch...atch... Hard evidence...ence...ence... TMI! Forever!"
Dan closes his phone and says, quietly and hilariously, "...Oh please don't." Then the weirdly disembodied laugh of Serena comes vibrating flirtatiously from space. The eff? Ah, it's more "art." Over in the installation, Aaron explains that there are microphones hidden all around the gallery. And lest you think there is a narrative reason for that, let me put your mind at ease, because at no point does that red herring get served. Which begs the question: why is it there? On a show all about surveillance and celebrity and gossip and exterior/interior space, steel persona and whispered truth, why on earth would you expect a bugged installation -- the ultimate Gossip Girl, Gossip Girl as the interior space they are standing in -- to make drama happen?
Serena points out that this means that he'll hear everything everybody says about the art, and the camera starts whirling around them as if to say, "DO YOU GET IT YET? LOVE." Speaking of subtlety, here are some more things Aaron's "art" needs your ass to ponder: "Everything is in a state of constant flux." True, but self-evident. "You can't do anything wrong." True, but poison to this show because if they would just fucking chill for five seconds we would all jump into the Eric van der Woodsen hyperspace of self-acceptance and the show would vanish and come shooting out a white hole in some dimensional antipode where narrative and drama and television work the opposite of here. "It's not about the product it's about the process." Which: ugh. Not even worth it, except to say that everybody's breath eventually smells like McLuhan's balls at some point in life, but you don't have to roll around in it like a greyhound either.
Dan and Serena meet up for dinner and Aaron's like, "Have fun on your date!" and they are awkward about how it's not a date and then Serena gives Aaron a most perfectly practiced over the shoulder smile. Which is exactly the reason she should be working with Dan as a team on the Blair thing instead of letting him fly solo, because of all the ways she has no idea, this is not one of them.
Angela's with Rayanne at Let's Bolt!, worrying about how she has to unmake and remake an entire dress and instead is hanging out with Rayanne, who's like the adorable little devil on her shoulder that keeps calling her "dude" ten billion times in every exchange, and is also right this second wearing a droog hat. Their drinks arrive and Rayanne's like, I so covet your dress, who made it -- "I mean, it's definitely not Eleanor Waldorf..." -- and Angela snorts to herself, "Not yet." She admits she made that plaid dress herself, and Rayanne drags her off toward the bathroom so that they can trade clothes.
Moments later, awesomely, Jenny is wearing Agnes's crocheted vest, bowler hat and seven billion necklaces, looking almost presentable if utterly insufferable, and "Partie Traumatic" is playing: "Hugs and kisses from the girls and the boys/ We get automatic.../ This jungle is massive/ So please don't be so passive, be aggressive, impress us! Yes it's magic, yes magic/ Oh it's partie traumatic/ Do it! This planet is static/ We are stepping galactic/ And just a bit satanic/ ...Unemployed -- we get automatic!"
Agnes introduces Jenny to creepy RISD photographer Max: hipster, who's wearing a head wrap and is constantly snapping pictures at all times like he's daring you to beat the ever-loving shit out of him, but nobody does. This week. Mostly, though, it's about the moment when Jenny comes out of the bathroom, trying on the big-girl clothes of a not-so-big young lady and hoping nobody notices how young she feels; hoping they'll fit.
Walking with coffee after dinner but before the opening, Serena's like, "Gross me out that you sent Blair to my house on a seduction mission," and Dan points out that his place would be weird, with Nate on the couch, and Serena's like, "Yeah! Tell me all about what it's like to have his fine ass around all the time." And try though he might to express the beauty and tenderness with which any of us would describe the glory of Nate waking us each morning with that sunny smile and delightful disposition, Serena is not paying attention because her phone keeps pinging her with updates from Blair, who predictably is going nuts at her house like a ferret on fire in a cage also made out of fire. Your loss, Serena, because of all the endings I can imagine to Dan's "I don't think I ever realized how much he..." trust when I say you would enjoy each of them more than the last, starting with "Enjoys spooning."
Serena laughs at Blair's text -- "in ur room. This will B EZ" -- precisely because she knows it's a fairytale B needs to hear right now: the stories Blair tells herself to be brave. How different is this from the Yale stuff, really? Seen from the other side? "I will be victorious at Yale, because it is my kingdom." "I can't believe I was so afraid of Chuck, but now I see that I can get through this, grab what I need, and come out the other side without getting burned." And Serena, knowing exactly that this is what's required -- because she tells herself the same stories, rather than getting other people to tell them to her -- she responds, "UR so bad!!!!" Every exclamation point deliberate and full of love: : "Oh, it looks so good! You're doing so good! You got it! Look how good you are!"
Some kind of baroque romance song greets Chuck on his arrival at home with, I believe and one assumes, fairly disgusting porn in hand. He's drawn to the music, and finds Blair lighting candles around Serena's room, calm and lovely in the light, wearing a black barely-there chemise that's all whispering silk and fluttering soft straps. Humphrey Lesson Two: Be All Up In His Face. "What are you doing, Blair?" he asks, pulled into the room against his will, and without turning she puts her hair up slowly, showing him her Kryptonite. Something like excruciating pleasure crosses his face, as he realizes she's playing with him. He loves it. "Serena knew how upset I was. She didn't want me to be alone, so she invited me to sleep over..." He's zeroed in and turned on; his feet don't even touch the floor. "Go away, Chuck. It's pointless." Her smile is huge, but it doesn't touch her voice: "I'm not going say it..."
"I don't care," he says, and her eyes close with relief. It's happening, zipless and perfect, as his hands caress her back; the straps fall at his touch and the breeze is still. The story's coming true, all around her, and she turns to kiss him. And all he's saying, with his hands and his mouth, is that game is over. I love you, I love you, I love you. You win, risking nothing. You have me. He's a fox in her hands, and his little heart beats fast.
Blair's phone rings out once, into the silence, and then again. "Ignore it," she says, and something in her back, in her mouth as she's pushing at him, some fear or shiver in the dark, tells him the story. He dives her for phone, and the story ends on the bed, tangled up like school kids, fighting over the phone. He reads the text, and the words rearrange themselves as he's looking at them, telling a new story: "This will be easy." Chuck, in real life. "You're so bad!!!!" Every exclamation point deliberate, aimed at his heart. He throws the phone at her, on the bed, and leaves again. "You almost had me."
The credits of How I Met Your Mother... My mistake. They're the endless stupid photographs of Max, blown bright into genius by the considerable power of teenagers convinced they invented everything. Damn, Willa Holland is beautiful. Sometimes it takes you by surprise. Agnes's phone rings and she screams at the person on the other end for awhile about how she is a bitch, and the whole time Max is begging for the beatdown, and Jenny's finally like, "You must've taken, like, a million pictures tonight... " Max blows her off and continues to be annoying, but she's a little bit uncomfortable.
"You only see me for the clothes that I wear.../ Or did the interest go so much deeper?/ It must have been the color of my hair! What you wanted was never made clear/ Behind the image was ignorance and fear/ You hide behind this public machine/ Still follow the same old scheme/ ...Somebody had to stop me/ I'm not the same as when I began, I'll not be treated as property/ I'm not the same as when I began, it's not a game of Monopoly..." He reaches out and moves her hair out of her eyes; she shivers. "I like photographing you, though." When you leave the world that makes sense how are you supposed to know what's okay?
"That was Trish and Saskia, they just got off work so they want to meet up. Now." Jenny begs off, citing her work again, and Agnes shakes her head. In the new world, this makes sense: this is work. "Trish and Saskia are like the hottest stylists." Max nods. "You should meet these girls. They do editorial for Nylon and Paper all the time." Jenny agrees that this sounds awesome, but continues to protest. "No no no, listen sweetie, just come and say hi for like five minutes. That's nothing! You can sleep when you're dead, baby!" Which, Jenny points out, is tomorrow, when Eleanor kills her. "I'm gonna have to pull an all-nighter as it is. I really have to go." Agnes gives in, but as Jenny's gathering her shit, disappears -- still wearing the dress. Jenny pushes her way through the crowd and out onto the street, spotting Agnes just as she's getting in a cab. She laughs in horror and dials, but it's just voicemail: "This is Agnes. You know what to do, bitches." I swear Jenny goes, "Shit." Gossip Girl's loving it: "Sorry J, but in the real world, you can't take a note to the principal when a drunken model eats your homework." Trust!
Jenny's sitting at her sewing machine, still wearing last night's ghoulish makeup, when Agnes comes running in with apologies and dress in hand. Jenny is pitch-perfect throughout this episode, but her distracted professional annoyance here is fantastic: not mean/hateful, just brush-offy/please bug me later. I'm really liking what's happening to this character, and what Momsen's doing with her. It's brilliant. Agnes praises the dress to heaven and Jenny's like, "Fuckin' great" and throws it on a table without looking up. "Okay seriously, you work your ass off, and for what? So Eleanor can rip off your ideas?" Jenny snips and pulls at the threads, mercilessly: "No, Eleanor promised that I could be in the meetings with the buyers from Bendel's and Barneys today." Agnes points out they had the same deal regarding Bloomingdale's," and Jenny just keeps working like she barely has time to roll her eyes in acknowledgement of that truth. Agnes starts pulling at her, and Jenny shoves her away, but finally she's like, "Oh my God, what?"
Agnes drags her to a computer in another room of the atelier and says those immortal words all teenagers have said, when looking at pictures of themselves, at least a billion times: "I mean seriously, this can be an ad campaign." (The difference being, and it's remarkable, that there are professional children for whom this and things like it are true, and in even vaster numbers in the world of this show than in the real world. I think this will end in true destruction because you can't sell this story on a teen drama, and at some point Jenny will hurl herself into Rufus's arms in tears, like she always does, but at this point it could still go the other way, and I kind of wish it would.)
Jenny's taken by the photos and under Agnes's spell, admits that the trio of Max and Agnes and herself have accomplished something remarkable. "I mean, right? And look, you can do whatever you want to do, but I mean, what do you think people will say when they see that Jenny Humphrey's finally gone on her own?" Jenny says she doesn't know, but she knows: "'Jenny Humphrey's so young to have her own line'?" And Agnes points out the other side of the deal she's making now: "Or 'Too bad Jenny Humphrey's stuff looks exactly like Eleanor Waldorf's.'" They stare at each other and wonder if every fairytale and story and warning isn't just propaganda to keep our parents and their lack of talent on top and in control.
Serena -- in a giant shirt like a lampshade -- and Blair -- wearing something the Joker might crossdress in -- come stomping into the café at the Bedford. "Blair Waldorf in Brooklyn?" There's real affection in Dan's voice. "You two... Are you two lost?" Serena thrusts Blair at him, even as she's protesting there's nothing to talk about: "I told you it's over!" Serena throws up her hands again, and shows her hand a little bit, smiling like Blair did last week at brunch: "I'm gonna go check out the art. In the art gallery... Talk." Aaron welcomes Serena to the installation, which still hasn't started even though it's been conservatively six hours since their last conversation, including her dinner with Dan, so I guess the show starts at 3AM or whatever. "Don't worry. You walk in on surgery halfway through, it looks like murder." Serena flirts right past that vivid illustration of her dream man, and offers to help. "You know how to weld?" Serena nods, with that smile she gets: "Um, I've seen Flashdance several times...?" And oh, how they laugh.
Dan busies himself with wine in the café, the better to look elsewhere than directly at the Total Eclipse of the Blair: "You and Chuck have been toying with each other forever. So you didn't win this one. You ever think maybe you should just, I don't know, let it go?" She tells him it's different, but they are speaking different languages and always have, and even though she's bilingual, her entire existence rests on never speaking Humphrey. Admit to need and the world will strike. He, for his part, asks why it's different, and she sighs and looks away. Which is close enough. His eyes go wide, but his voice gets so soft and serious that I kind of love him now. "Do you... Do you love him?" Somehow him saying it, the way he says it, makes him wonderful: like the whole world is going Magic Eye and he's seeing the Blair behind the headbands and the ... It's like Victrola for a second. She's just a girl.
Blair looks up at him, terrified, and he nods at her. "Wow," he breathes, so gentle with her now. "Someone loves ... Chuck Bass." Blair shakes her head and speaks Humphrey more eloquently than she knows, admitting for the first time that she's been in the weeds since Chuck turned the table. "I don't know. I just... I... I don't understand how it got to this place." This place where every weapon turns back on you, and every way you had to stay safe is now the thing that's tearing you apart? The way the things that make you strong are exactly where it's hitting now, and taking you down? That's love, baby. We only notice it when it moves the furniture around, but if it didn't we wouldn't call it love.
She's like a fox in his hands, her little heart beating so fast you could be ashamed for her, and Dan finally gets it: why Serena wouldn't ever, ever let her go. Why every time he pushed against Blair, thinking she was the problem, S pushed back with another exclamation point. There's an excruciating pleasure in dropping our defenses; in recognizing that one week of danger will stretch into infinity the second you let it. How much more excruciating if all you are is defenses? How much more pleasure is there in it? I went on about how I personally identify with this situation these two clods have found themselves in, before, but it's universal. Love's not a fairytale, it's a bloody massacre. Love means somebody else has the power to kill you, and that's all Blair and Chuck are telling us: Why would you ever do that? Why on earth would you ever put the most delicate part of yourself anywhere somebody can touch it, until you're sure? Giving yourself up to that particular wolf is the stupidest, scariest thing you could ever do. And needless to say, like any terrifying thing, that's what makes it the bravest, and most necessary.
It's where Blair's language and Dan's language meet, because they're both afraid of the same thing, which is that somebody will notice how easily they can be destroyed. He doesn't even stutter. "You know, the first time that I told Serena I loved her, it was terrifying. I've never felt so exposed. But the feeling that I got when she said it back to me... was probably the single greatest moment of my life." Blair points out that they broke up, but even Dan knows that's beside the point, and he'd do it the same way again. "If I say it, he wins..." Dan shakes his head, knowing she's on autopilot, scared out of her wits in a shitty Brooklyn café. "...And if he wins, then I'll just be another girl to him." The last thing, the very last thing, Blair could ever be. "You don't know that that's true. You have to decide what's most important to you: keeping your pride and getting nothing, or taking a risk and... Maybe having everything." They lock eyes; it's the first time they've ever seen each other.
It's awesome because here's the math. There are things that Serena has always done for Blair (make her feel brave; make her feel loved), and things she's always done for Dan (make him feel seen; make him feel known). And there are things Dan's always done for Serena (make her feel strong enough; make her feel real), and things Blair's always done for Serena (give her a place to land; fight for her to the death). And as long as Dan and Nate are slipping into and out of each other's lives and stories, trading names and faces whenever it suits them, bouncing Chuck between them like a grenade about to go off, let's impute Dan into the Blair/Serena thing and see what happens, because what happens is that -- for this moment -- the equation works out beautifully. The thing Serena loves about Dan is the thing Blair desperately needs without knowing it; the thing Blair loves about Serena is the thing that he's always been able to give.
Blair gives Dan the acceptance he's always craved from her and from the part of her he sees in Serena (in his backwards sour-grapesy teen-boy way, but still needs and craves) and meanwhile all Dan's saying is the magic words: "You're doing so good! You got it! Look how good you are!" Would the show really fall apart if it stayed this way for awhile? These two freaks need all the help they can get, and it makes me happy when anybody can see through or around the very substantial layers of bullshit they generate around themselves every day. Blair deserves to feel brave, and loved, and Dan deserves to feel like he's helping, like his help is actually requested and required. Like a man.
Jenny finally runs the dress to Eleanor, who's worrying at the racks: "Well, I almost lost a finger in the process, and I might be permanently cross-eyed, but I did it!" Eleanor thanks her curtly and hangs it on the rack. "You look like hell. You should go home." Jenny jumps, because the buyers are coming. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm gonna need every moment alone to..." She looks closer. "...figure out what the hell am I gonna do? This dress is a mess!" Jenny protests that, although it's not her finest work, it's not a mess, and Eleanor disagrees. Is she grasping at straws, or being honest? Is this another power play, or is Jenny beside the point? This is where Blair came from: never knowing if the problem is the problem, or a problem hiding the real problem that you don't get to know about. It's one thing with your employer, which sucks, but I am here to tell you that when it's your Mom? You end up fucking Chuck Bass and begging him not to love you while simultaneously begging him to love you. That's all I'm saying.
"The seams aren't finished, the zipper gapes, and... And you finished the hem on the machine." Turns out Jenny lied and said the machine ate her fabric and that's why she had to start over, but Eleanor cuts her dead. "Stop lying to me. I know where you were last night. Laurel caught the interns looking at pictures of you and Agnes, out at some trashy bar." I miss Laurel. Jenny bites her lip and apologizes, digging herself back further and further away, and Eleanor unleashes total honesty: "You want to be a grown-up? And have a real job? You have to accept real responsibility and the consequences for your actions when you don't come through." As though she's talking to herself, but still aiming it square at Jenny's creepy little head, she grumbles she never should have given so much responsibility to a child. And Jenny's head catches on fire and starts spinning around on her neck, shooting sparks every which way, catching a pile of samples on devil-colored fire: "A [motherfucking] child?"
"I'm sorry, but this child seems to be the only one that can design anything that the buyers are remotely interested in." And just like that, the fight is having them. Eleanor wrote herself into this All About Eve shit, and Jenny jumped onboard, but it's just like any other fairytale, as Gossip Girl would say: Forget that you're playing along and you'll get eaten. "This is not about that dress," Jenny spits into Eleanor's shock and rage. "You are using that dress as an excuse because you are scared that if I am in that meeting and meet someone important that they will want to be in business with me and not you." Eleanor points out that whether or not it's true will never enter into this conversation, because that was bullshit on a massive scale, and explains that Jenny is just about fucking fired.
"Oh, you are lucky that I don't just quit!" Jenny screams, full-on hardcore and awesome, because she is fucking right and she knows it, but it's still not something you get to say. Especially not if you're in the wrong, or have provided plausible deniability by running around with Agnes all night. "Then what would you do?" Eleanor, having lost this round, pulls herself back from the fight and breathes, and tries to turn it into a reasonable punishment instead of the end of the world: "Go on home. I'll see you Monday." But all Jenny can see is the Bendels and Barney's buyers fading into the distance, waving goodbye, and doesn't realize she's being offered a serious out here, so she strikes back twice as hard as before: "Can I at least have my dress back?" Eleanor shoves the thing at her, assuring her it's of no help, and points at the door.
Jenny gives one hell of a scary laugh, and I mean, did I mention Taylor Momsen rocks? I like her this season, but even still I wouldn't have thought she had this in her, because the body language is so intense and she's like rooted to the ground like a mighty oak, and even acting like somebody else I don't think I could stand my ground the way she does in this scene. She is like twice as tall as normal, and so is Eleanor, and it's exhilarating: "I don't mean this one," she says, without blinking. Eleanor is honestly shocked, and points at the green accidental finale dress from Bryant Park: "...You touch this dress, you will never set foot in here again." Without taking her eyes off her, Jenny reaches out and takes it off the rack, nearly balling up a fist in case Eleanor tries to stop her, and then gives the most awesome dead eyes. Later, bitch. It is so very epic! My companion gasped, because he'd completely forgotten to breathe during that whole part. She slams the door on her way out, and even Gossip Girl sounds a little reverent for the amazing shit that just went down: "Sometimes the most important thing to know is when to get out..."
"...And when to give in." Blair lies on her bed, contemplating Humphrey Lesson Three: Let Yourself Break. Chuck's phone bleeps as he's heading down the stairs, and the message is perfection: "You win. Tonight. -- B." He grins to himself, sweetly in love, and heads out into the night.
Bedford Avenue Gallery, where Dan and Rufus talk about how great the opening went, which is to a degree that makes Rufus feel weird about his openings, and Dan sees Serena ... And then Blair, standing to her. "That's the second time that girl was here today. You're not...?" (TV Rule #300: If Dan laughs it off in reality or says they're becoming friends and talks about that, then they are not. If he shivers and stutters and stammers and wiggles and giggles and talks about how gross that is, tune in week for when they fuck. I don't write the rules but you're better prepared for knowing them.)
"I'm not what... oh, no. oh, no, no, no, no. no, no. I'm not... No. I mean, Serena wants us to get along, but not like that. No, that would, uh... that would be ... sick," he finishes up, with another one of those hilarious line readings he's been giving us. It's partly the writing making Dan better, and the smart way it's doing it which is little by little, and partly the constant discussion of what a fuckwad he is, but I really think a lot of is Badgely (generally a well-regarded actor and human) actually letting himself like Dan more, because these extemp funny ad libby feeling asides of his are really a breath of fresh air. He did them last year but they seemed forced and Sethy, and this year they are really the best and most original and authentic signs of life on Planet Dan.
Rufus -- who hates B not only on sight like any good Brooklynite, but also because of the abuses daughter Jenny and daughter/whatever Vanessa are constantly begging for from the infinite well of Blair's rage -- asks Dan why he doesn't just tell Serena he's not into being friends with B. Dan says it's dicey because they're already on their eightieth round of trying to be friends, but is unable to cop to actually liking her, just like last year when he and B were friends for two seconds. Serena, or possibly one of her tormented breasts, says hello, and they all meet up as Rufus is taking off. Serena is excited about the turnout, gushing first over how Aaron must be thrilled and then amending the subject to Rufus. He notices the weirdness and thanks her, but turns immediately to Blair, who shouldn't be there: "So I thought you were gonna be with Chuck tonight, what happened?" Serena grins proudly "Oh, she is. But she told him to meet her here. She needed some moral support."
Blair -- brilliantly, unable to tolerate the terms of this conversation but simultaneously unable to take part in it because of what it's about -- pulls an Aaron Rose and takes part in the conversation by third-party proxy while simultaneously bitching at them for talking about her in front of her like some kind of invalid they're sharing caretaking for, which is exactly what she is, for tonight: "Yes. She is freaking out, she needs a drink." She turns a hilariously expectant smile at Dan, but don't miss what happened there: she just admitted the inadmissible, by putting herself outside the context of the story and sneaking up on it from an unexpected angle:
"There's a girl made of ice, in love with a beast. She's almost brave enough to ask for his love, and give hers in return. And then life can begin." It's not an Audrey movie, but something altogether scarier and darker. Like a fairytale. She's walking into the woods at night, the ice girl under the moon, with nothing in her hands. If she looks right at this, or what she's prepared to do -- if anybody looks at her tonight -- she will shatter into a million pieces. Until today she only had one friend in the whole world, and when that friend was gone she might as well have been dead. She walked on knives. Today she has two: Two friends, telling her of her bravery and how much she is loved and wanted. They carry her when she is weak.
"Tonight, the ice girl lays down her arms and exposes her throat, and she will either be killed when the bluff is called, or the masks will all come off, and she will relax for the first second in her entire frightening, hard, painful life. And the heart she hid so long ago, she'll take it from a velvet-lined box, inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, and she'll give it to the prince. It will beat so fast. And in that moment the sun comes out, and his monstrous form will fall away, and he will be revealed, in his glory, and the ice girl will know love.
"They will build a kingdom without fear. They won't even remember all the pain and lies and terror that it took, to come finally to this place: the place called love. And her ice will melt, and the briars retreat, and armor will fall, and she will fall into his arms, and his kiss will wake her. She will learn how brave she is, and take her reward, which is love, and her triumph, which is life. She will learn to dance, where anyone can see her."
"But I don't know that bitch. Gimme a drink and shut up."
Dan doesn't even bristle, now that he can see the story, and see how tenuous her grip's becoming. He offers to find her drink, and the smile she shoots back is only grateful. In the café, Vanessa mopes around like Aschenputtel, like Cinder Jenny sweeping the atelier, making dresses she'll never get to wear, relying on a fairy's false word for her escape.
"So first Nate's a part of the family, and then I see you've invited Blair to my opening? Seriously?" When you put it together that way, Vanessa, I do see your point. He apologizes once again, and once again treads lightly on the gift: "I didn't invite her, but Serena and Blair tend to be a package deal." He thinks about that, the unfairness of it, and admits to Vanessa that he's been learning about Blair. Vanessa trips out on it, explaining about last week and how -- conveniently omitting the part where she presented Blair with her most recent and in some ways most painful defeat for no fucking reason, and fucked with her, and got in over her head with the blackmail again, and basically begged for her own destruction like always -- Blair and Chuck "just used [her] as catnip for one of their twisted little games." Vaguely, she adds, what they did was "really messed up." Dan asks why she didn't tell him, and she admits that she was embarrassed, but that she was weirded out to find that Chuck ended up being "the more human of the two," because at least he felt a little bad.
Now, this I love, because the show has always been good about tracing downfalls, and the best episodes are the ones where coincidences accrete and little petty things like this rebound all over the echo chamber, hurting sixteen people before boomeranging back at the perp. So like, even though Vanessa started it, she wasn't really important to it last week: who cares about Vanessa? And she wouldn't even know about it if Chuck hadn't faltered, forcing B's hand and making her act out and disclose the plan to Vanessa. And if Chuck hadn't then gone back to the bar, Vanessa would still hate them both equally. But they weren't actually fighting over Vanessa at all, and while I understand she's embarrassed, nothing actually happened to her. She thought about bringing a casserole to a UES housewarming, wore a gorgeous dress, and got told to keep her hands off Blair's man. That's the extent of her wounds here.
But still: B does these things, and it bounces back in the most unexpected way, which is that for the first time in his life, Dan is actually in a position to effect real events. Nobody could have predicted that, and it is gorgeous. Less gorgeous: Dan's loyalty to Vanessa, which expresses itself in an about-face that nearly loses him this episode's gold star for behavior, which is notable also because it is the only one he has ever even slightly earned. And the fact that it's Blair ruining everything via Vanessa via Dan, instead of Dan fucking it all up on his own, is sort of depressing.
S plays with Aaron's video ball of words and whatever, it's shiny so she likes it. Aaron slides up in a massive stupid scarf and they chat. She congratulates him on his success and he awkwardly segues to how success is nothing without someone to share it with, and she's like, "They do say that." That's that van der Woodsen awesome poking out a little bit right there. She teasingly asks him who he's planning on sharing with, and he gets majorly cute: "Uh, my dad, my Nana, my dog Mookie -- named by Nana, she's a huge Mets fan -- and, uh, and you. Uh... Uh, you. I was hoping you." Inconceivable! "Maybe dinner?" She's overjoyed, but spots Dan and rethinks. "Uh, sorry. I'm ... not really dating right now." He admits to being acquainted with "the vague and unsatisfying I'm Not Dating Right Now response, but points for mentioning he's usually the one giving it. To girls! Serena apologizes in a flirty manner that implies both that she really is sorry, and that she's loving watching him twist, and he flips the table: "I can tell. Which is why I'm gonna give you a second chance." She's impressed at his immunity to the Serena Effect, and looks on. "If you can tell me the fate of Cecil the Caterpillar, I will go out with you." She's a little thrown and tells him she doesn't normally date "crazy people who speak in riddles," but he's still on his game: "Just think about it, and when you figure it out, I'm yours." He takes off. Color Serena confused and intrigued.
Blair runs up squealing that Chuck just texted her to meet him on the roof, presumably because he'll be damned if he goes inside this house of low-rent horror, and Blair's like, "This way if he doesn't say it back, then I can just jump. Then he'll be really sorry." It's the absolute joy on her face that makes it funny; Serena grabs her hands and reminds her that nobody wants their obituary to say they died in Brooklyn. "Wish me luck," Blair says, and Serena kisses her hands. Be brave.
Dan knocks on the window as Blair passes by the café, telling her to wait up. "I can't. Chuck's waiting for me!" She could power the city in an outage. "I know. It's about that. Just, um, you know, be ... careful." Blair looks at him like they're friends and reminds him of his advice: "You said to be the opposite of careful. You told me to take a risk!" Her joy is at half-mast; Dan makes that face he only makes when he is lying. "Right, I know. I know. But I... It was bad advice, because when I said that, I was thinking of how things were for Serena and me." Her face is getting sadder; he could stop if he wanted, but he can't stop now. "I mean, we're talking about Chuck here. It's not the same thing." Blair says, with all her force of will: "Yes it is!"
Yes, it is: the Dan and Serena story is a fairytale I can have. I deserve to love him the way I see Serena look at you; I deserve to have what I want, to see it his eyes like when you look at her, still. Begging him not to kill it, not to tell her she's not human enough to play the same games as they do. Even when Serena's not around, she threatens to swallow you whole. Her voice is weaker still: "And it's gonna be okay." Dan presses harder. "Sure, well, maybe. Just, before you say anything, make sure he's done playing games." It's broken, the story he helped her write and she was about to tell, it's broken just like that. The beast is just a beast, and the ice girl fades away. And the worst bit, the very worst part: She had two friends. Today she trusted him, and now it's gone. Serena would never give her this bravery and then take it away. She thought Dan was like Serena, but he's just another enemy. She pulls the ice across her like a blanket: "Now. If you'll excuse me..." She slumps away, holding onto scraps of bravery. Dan stares.
Jenny spots Rufus, and her back goes straight after a moment of fear, because she knows she has to tell him what happened; Agnes and Max appear between them. Max heads off to say hello to Aaron, whom he knew at RISD of course, and Agnes gushes at Jenny about the "crazy stunt with Eleanor." Jenny shivers, and admits she's about to unburden herself about that shit with Rufus, and tell him he was right. As usual. But first: "The editor from Nylon saw the photos from last night," Agnes almost screams. "He wants to do a feature on you as A Designer To Watch." Jenny continues to call on depths of awesomeness her Humphrey genes have only let her express: "Agnes, since I quit Eleanor's I am an unemployed, homeschooled fifteen-year-old. I'm not even an intern to watch."
Agnes shakes her head, because that's not the world she knows. She's a real-life teen model: "Dude, relax. Max and I were just talking about it. You should do your own clothing line." Jenny points out the very real problems with all that, and Agnes says the only thing you can say that is true: "Stop coming up with reasons not to do it and just make some more dresses." Which she could do at home while going to school, right, and is the proper answer, but not in Agnes World: "I can model them, Max will do some photos. I mean, you can totally do this." Jenny's being won over, and Agnes pushes: "Now you're gonna come with me to this party, and you're gonna meet this editor, because he's dying to meet you. So you my bitch or what?" Valid, sketchy godmother. Jenny agrees that she is totally Agnes's bitch, and because "bitch," along with "dude" and "Seroquel," is one of the three words she apparently knows, Agnes is satisfied.
Nate catches up to Jenny as they're leaving, wanting to hang out, and she offers to hang tomorrow at the loft. (Hey, is Nate even in school right now? Is he just hanging out all day doing pull-ups? Possibly in his soccer shorts or his altogether?) He laughs and mentions how busy she always is, and she's like, luckily I quit and am now officially useless in all areas. He puts the breaks on and points out that she was obsessing about her job with Eleanor to the point of walking away from him in a towel this morning, and she replies that, after a couple of weeks in a failing design house she is now ready to spread her wings and fly. He's like, "And Rufus thinks?"
Which is the appropriate question, and Jenny knew that ten minutes ago, until Agnes rewrote the world around her and made her think this possibility is the only possibility, and that she doesn't need a map or a net. At which point, Nate stops being a part of the friendly lovely world, and turns into a buzzkill. Which she relates with now-characteristic aplomb and snappy language: "Okay. um, I was hoping for a, more of like a Congratulations Jenny, or at least a monosyllabic Wow, but..." I love the way she speaks now. Nate doesn't get the misstep here, and continues asking about actual real-world shit, like is now the time to start a business, but luckily Agnes summons her, and Nate notices Max, and how much of a college graduate he is, and Jenny has officially had it.
"Okay, that guy's name is Max, and he went to RISD with Aaron, and he's an amazing photographer. He's gonna shoot my line. Look, I gotta go. Um, my friends are waiting for me, so I guess if my Dad asks, just tell him I'm at Eleanor's?" Ooh, the Stop Sucking Brushoff plus the Do A Sister A Solid! How did Jenny get all cool? Life of practice with Dan, who in this arena is a thousand Nates of annoying. Nate takes that split second it takes him to react to things, and she is gone. He is left in a spot. It's like the second he got rid of his horrible family he got saddled with the most troubled family in the entire city. Which would automatically suck, but it's Nate so now he's going to do whatever it takes to fix them, and I say this in all earnestness: I promise you that it will somehow involve prostituting himself at some point. Use the tools in your toolbox.
Bedford rooftop, where Chuck's already mid-sneer: "Brooklyn?" Blair, trying desperately to pump herself up as quickly as possible for this, is like, "At least it'll be memorable?" What will? The fairytale. "I'm sorry, but don't you have something you want to say to me?" He smiles at her romantically as she says she does... Humphrey Lesson Four: Never, Ever Trust. Her lips are sealed. She tries to say it but nothing comes out. She shakes it off. "...This is so silly. What does it matter who says it first? Why don't we just say it together?" Chuck informs her that wasn't the deal, but he means that there's still the chance that she'll open her mouth and nothing will come out, and his words will hang there in the silence for a moment, before her laughter joins it, and then he really will jump. The history of his love goes: dead unknown Mom, ice-cold Dad, Nate who dumped him, all the women he can fuck. How can he possibly trust right now? Especially the only person as good at this as he is?
"Why does everything have to be a deal?" she asks, flirty, and he responds less so: "Because we made it one." She swallows, panicking and he asks her WTF is going on. What's the trick here? What's the game? "You told me you had something to say to me." There's pain in his voice: "Say it." Blair completely loses track of everything, with Dan's voice echoing in her head: "Why do I have to be the one to go first? I was the one who waited on that helipad for you. I went to Tuscany alone..." Chuck swears it's ancient history and she keeps reeling it off: "...I was the one who asked you to say it first!" Chuck points out that this was at the White Party, in the middle of her running away from him as fast as she could into a fairytale of her own devising: "Did you really think I was going to say it then?" Of course she did. It was the only thing that could have saved her, and she was begging for it. It rips itself out of her: "YES!" She begins to cry. "And when you didn't, I wanted to die." I love you, I love you, I love you. Why do they have to say it? They're saying it all the time.
Chuck tells her to drop it because he didn't come to Brooklyn for the litany of the ways they've hurt each other, the way he followed Marcus around for days on days trying to crack him, the way he aimed Serena and Blair and Dan at each other and destroyed them for the meager, nasty half-satisfaction of loving her under cover of night, away from the real world and her shame, only to be treated as something repulsive for the affront of simply loving. He's lowered himself too, and she knows it. "I thought you were ready to tell me how you really felt. Obviously it was just another one of your games." Blair's tears: are they real? Who can tell? "My games? You're the one who started this," she cries, but it's not good enough. "And you're the one who finished it," he says, turning away from her. Short of dropping to her knees, then, she takes him at his word and leaves. And just as she is leaving, he turns his head to see her gone, so he must take her at hers. It's not something happening to her, it's something she's working with him to build.
Nate introduces himself to Aaron, who is of course entranced by his strange unworldly face and immediately relinquishes the information that Max is a dirty sister-fucker, and then they stop talking and walk away from each other. And scene! Nate runs off and Blair runs in, totally fucking freaking out. Serena spots her, gets scared, and rushes over immediately. Blair, who's barely standing at this point, tells her it was a disaster and tries to leave, but Serena wants to go with. How could she even tell this story? "No, it's fine. You stay. I just have to get out of here now." And scene! Blair runs off and Dan walks in; Serena grabs him and asks why B's so upset. And Dan does an unexpected thing, which is be awesome some more.
"Uh, yeah. Look... Look, Blair and Chuck were gonna self-destruct at some point, so I just... I may have helped it along." It's helpful to see the little ways he justifies this shit to himself, because normally at this point you just have him glaring hatefully at Serena and have to assume that he has reasons for whatever horrible thing he's just done. "Wait. You intentionally sabotaged Blair?" Dan teenage-boys that yes, but he didn't want to make Serena mad at him, and also they "completely" screwed over Vanessa, in a way he doesn't really know about, and which resulted in no net damage beyond the presumable accomplishing of her goal of saving the Brooklyn Inn sometime soon. Which hypocrisy on her disgusting part and which stupidity on Dan's part, Serena adeptly points out, are not even the point: "No. Whatever they did to Vanessa, that's different. This is about two people who love each other." Which you fucking know. You held her heart in your hands and you felt it beating so fast and you knew exactly what it was. Oh, Dan. "Blair and Chuck? Come on..." Serena's like, "Did you not want to spend the day helping Blair? Because that's what you did, and you were really sweet about it, and asked her the right questions and made her feel comfortable, and I could feel it across her shoulders when she was with you, and you were beautiful doing it, and in some ways I loved you more during that process than when we were dating, as did Jacob, so WTF."
Dan decides retroactively the following bullshit things, but impressively compounds their bullshit by saying them aloud: He only helped Blair for Serena, because she wanted it, because he doesn't care about Blair, because this is all meaningless anyway. All of which is untrue, and all of which he knows, but the thing is that Blair would kill for Serena, and he's been that way for Vanessa for a long time, and caught between three loyalties this is the only way he can rationalize any of it: by voiding whatever he did for Blair and why. "It's all a game to her!" Serena shakes her head; she was sure this time he got it. He did! "No, in this case, it's not. Blair loves Chuck. She's just been too scared to admit it."
Serena's been trying for weeks, we watched her doing it: Smiling and joking and saying his name and saying it over and over and over: "He's my brother. You're my sister. You are two beasts that terrify the city, and I am the only girl -- the only person -- in the world who can tame you both. If you can admit your love of him to anyone, you can tell me, because I know. Because I love him the same way I love you, which is: Carefully." When we talk about Serena's mysterious Thing that she Has, and her power over mortals, half of that's because we're not paying attention. She's been pushing them both back toward the center since last season, so tenderly and carefully and delicately they wouldn't even notice it, and so lovingly it never hurt or startled them, because she cannot stand to see anything in pain; she might not actually give a fuck, but there's still no reason to be anything less than happy, ever. This is how you become Queen.
Serena widened the circle for Blair with every conversation, attacking it less and less obliquely, but she knew that Blair's pride wouldn't let her admit the final words, so she called in Dan for the last session. And he did it, and so beautifully! Just like with Nate, bringing him out of his hole and giving him a home. And now? "I told her to talk to you because I genuinely thought that you would help her be brave." There it is: bald and bold and real enough that even Literal Humphrey gets it. She wanted him to give Blair what he gives Serena, and he did -- and then he took it away. She runs off, and he feels terrible.
Max's rape pad is chock full of artsy photos of feral young party girls, and full of the constant fucking irritating flash of the unending snap-snap-snap. Jenny admires the pictures and Agnes reminds her that soon, it'll be shots of Jenny and her clothes up there. Then Agnes climbs onto his lap and they start making out. Which is like... You have nights like this where it's really hard to figure out whether Everything is okay or Everything just turned into a Lifetime Original Movie, you know? Like is this where I get pulled into some kind of fucked up thing I'm not ready for, or is this normal and I'm the weird one? You can't just ask, like, "Are you guys about to roofie me or make me do a threesome? Because I am a virgin and a teetotaler," because then you automatically are the weird one, so the only option -- and it is always an option, and you best listen to your instincts and exercise that motherfucker -- is to take your graceful leave.
Max, meanwhile, is pointing his camera back at himself making out with Agnes, because he's so lame it doesn't matter if he's gross. "Um... If you guys want to be alone, that's cool. I can just call later..." Agnes is like, "Do what?" and Jenny explains that they were supposed to go to a party, which while in some circles may signify sitting there like the fat friend while your girlfriend gets skanky with a skeezix right in front of you, that is not the particular definition she was imagining when leaving her father's gallery, and perhaps there was a miscommunication as regards their consensual and communal use of the word "party" in tonight's context that they should really reconcile before things move forward. Agnes laughs and says that nobody goes until midnight anyway, which is both true and totally defuses the weirdness. Well done. I really want to figure out more about Agnes because so far I think I would like to hang with her. I mean, I'm pretty sure I have, but I think this particular one I could handle.
And then! The most amazing thing! "How Soon Is Now" comes on, and Agnes pulls Jenny up off a chair and they start dancing around to it. Right? Because "You shut your mouth/ How can you say I go about things the wrong way?" and "When you say it's gonna happen now/ Well when exactly do you mean?/ See I've already waited too long" equal Jenny, and "I am human and I need to be loved just like everybody else does" equals Blair and Chuck absolutely, and "I am the son and heir of nothing in particular" I feel strongly equals Aaron Rose, and "I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar" equals Dan forever and ever and ever because fuck him.
Except! It's the t.A.T.u. version, which brings an entire avalanche of shit into the mix that has nothing to do with the original song, because it's being sung by Russian girls who don't even speak English, which Aaron Rose would like because it deconstructs your "music is communication" binary into complete static in a specifically linguistic way, and these particular Russian girls were (are?) also fake lesbians in schoolgirl dresses, which is about knowingly playing into objectifying stereotypes in order to commercialize yourself, which plays into Max's snap-snap-snap bullshit from earlier, and the fact that Willa Holland's always been about thisclose to going full-on LiLo anyway, plus the rapey threesome vibe in the air where girls don't ever make out unless a disgusting college-age fuckup is watching -- just like the band t.A.T.u., of which that was the entire point -- and the fact that it was a radio single right around when Willa, Taylor, Agnes and Jenny (the only age-appropriate castings in the history of the show besides like Bart Bass) would have been dancing-around-the-bedroom age, so it's both natural and innocent and really scary that they're dancing around now while Max is snapping pictures and we're watching this happen too, and... I don't think I've been this pleased with anything having to do with t.A.T.u. since... ever. Although as an added bonus disclosure, I will admit to randomly listening to this cover, an oldie but a goodie, all last week before this episode even showed up. Which does reflect on me.
Chuck's running down the stairwell from the Bedford roof, and by the way not only is he wearing a totally sweet suit with like, I don't know the word for it, but it's not piping because it's square, like on a tuxedo, but wide, like a barbershop quartet. It looks amazing. Man, when he was on the roof all in profile against the Brooklyn light pollution I was like, "And here I was thinking that I had a weird Scooby-related fetish for neckerchiefs last week that may or may not need investigating, but no: his profile really is that striking. I swear it's the hair, because I didn't find him attractive at all last year, just weird. Or maybe this show has finally broken me, because I could have sworn I used to say that about Nate too. And Dan. They were really fucked up looking at one time, weren't they? Is this just me? Did face fashion just catch up like it always does? Like did you ever notice that the random sexy ladies that were always magically appearing on like Bewitched or I Dream Of Jeannie were totally ugly, and wonder why? Or maybe it already did and I was just behind the curve. Again. It's like the Olsen Twins' Wonderful Fashion Sense debacle all over again. Is there a newsletter or something I can sign up for? Do I need to subscribe to W just to watch this show? And is that deductible?
Oh, shit, and does this mean that one day I will understand why Zac Efron's face doesn't make people want to fucking throw up because of how it looks? I need to chill out, I'm sorry. t.A.T.u. does something to me, apparently. But this is a very important scene. Dan tries to stop Chuck on the stairwell and Chuck's not having it, because he's about to start crying, which he is not physically capable of doing so the tears come out through his pores in the form of rage rays, and Dan begs him to stop, and Chuck's like, "No, numbnuts, I can hear you, I am choosing to ignore you." And then, despite his current revulsion to Chuck and his lying protestations to the contrary of his feelings for Blair today, he mans up and does the best thing he's ever done. "Don't. Because what just happened with you and Blair..." Chuck assures him it's not of his business but he keeps going, because it is: "Look, I don't know how you feel about her, but I do know how she feels about you, and she was going to tell you. Until I stopped her."
Lest we forget the other thing that's going on here, replace the café walls with those of a jail cell for sec, because this is the second time Dan's looked at one of Them and seen them for what they are and realized they could be loved. Nate was a foregone conclusion, of course, because he's not insane, but the first one Dan loved was Chuck. And Chuck loved it so much, and hated it so bad, that he practically tried to have Dan killed at Yale. Chuck had two friends, once. And now he has none, because first Dan hurt him and then took away Nate too. And that's the man speaking to him now, saying "I intruded into your places three times now, and I've betrayed you three times now, and I am trying to make it up to you, and give you back a piece of your heart."
And that is why Dan wins this week, because he knows exactly what this is, and what it means, and how even saying this to Chuck is asking for it, but that it's also something only Dan can tell him, because only Dan knows the story here. Better than either Blair or Chuck, as it turns out: two people he could look you in the eye and claim to hate, and he wouldn't even be lying, but nothing that's simple, and this is him saying so. All that time Dan and Serena drove themselves nuts trying to make her more like him, when really all he needed was to be a little more like her.
It rubs off all the time; sometimes you don't even notice. Even trying on each other's clothes, like Nate and Dan, they didn't realize what they were trading: Max snaps pictures as they dance, dorky and completely carefree, and Agnes takes Jenny's scarf from around her neck, dances it around herself, and squeals as she dares herself and takes off her shirt. How much is theatre? Is she pretending to be as shocked as Jenny, that open-mouthed wide-eyed OMG? How many times has this happened? Max grins and Jenny is shocked; Agnes pushes back. "Oh, come on! Now it's your turn." Jenny is not interested, pointing out that it's totally weird, and Agnes is like, "Max doesn't care! He's a photographer!" Which is like staring times two. Jenny gives a little weirded-out giggle, and Agnes knows she's got her, so she twists the line: "Afraid that Eleanor Waldorf is gonna find out and get mad at you?" Snap-snap-snap. Isn't this freedom? Isn't this what you wanted? Declare yourself! Jenny reaches for her shirt and joins Agnes on the other side of the line, and Agnes is proud and pleased. "Yeah! Do it for Eleanor!" You want postmodern retelling of classic fairytale? How about Tweener Cinderella in her undies, dancing with a teen model while a sketchfuck Beauty Bar refugee goes click-click-click? When I say this is the best show ever on television I am not fucking around, I literally mean what I'm saying.
They dance around in their bras, which couldn't be less revealing, thankfully, and they pose for Max, and they are wearing a billion necklaces, and when somebody knocks at the door Jenny gets scared, but Agnes just scampers over and opens it, still wearing that wide-eyed face of What Happens . And of course, it's Nate. He stands at the door, shocked, with Agnes looming creepily behind him and Max going snap-snap-snap. "What have we here? Jenny Humphrey caught in her knickers by Nate, her knight in shining Armani..." I swear by the end of the commercial break Nate will have sold himself to Max in some way.
Serena makes that kissy face, almost hugs him, does the nod that she always does where she can't quite figure out if the conversation is over, and then runs off, only to spot Aaron getting on his motorcycle with some other girl. Her face falls. "The problem with fairy tales is that they set a girl up for disappointment. In real life, the prince goes off with the wrong princess..."
"Or the spell wears off and two lovers realize they are better off as... well, whatever they are." Blair sits in her bedroom, being sad, and Chuck enters. "Are you here to gloat?" He asks what she means. "Well, you won. Pop the champagne." I gave up ground and you didn't. I wept and you didn't. I told you about the White Party and I cried on the roof, and you told me I lost. "I didn't win," he says. I just believed you every time you pretended you were unbreakable. "Then why does it feel like I lost?" That excruciating pleasure. How did things get to this place?
"The reason we can't say those three words to each other isn't because they aren't true." Case closed. Blair, unaware that she actually just won, is like, "Then how come?" Like, "Honestly tell me because I am straight-up outside my wheelhouse and all the furniture's getting moved around. "I think we both know that the moment we do, it won't be the start of something... It'll be the end." They are almost crying and he's not even said it all yet. "Think about it. Chuck and Blair going to the movies? Chuck and Blair holding hands?" She edges closer to tears, almost begging: "We don't have to do those things. We can do the things that we like!" We can make up the rules. Serena showed me how. Dan showed us both. "What we like is this," Chuck says, and she agrees, horribly sad: "The game."
"Without it, I'm not sure how long we'd last. It'd just be a matter of time before we messed it all up..." She almost speaks; he gets on his knees and gazes up at her. "Look, I'd rather wait. Maybe in the future...?" Blair's voice is completely different, just deeply sad and grown up, like something died: "I suppose there could be some excruciating pleasure in that." A tear rolls down her cheek as she smiles at him sweetly. He kisses her goodbye, and can barely let her hand go as he is leaving. She is crying in front of him. Chuck Bass. Again. There's excruciating pleasure in knowing that the world didn't end, after all.
It sounds tacky, but I'm hopeful/ There's a reason that the world turns round/ Through silent sound/
Set the dark on fire
When I was young and I almost drowned/ I was found
Set the dark on fire...
Jenny comes screaming out of Max's building, bitching at Nate. "What are you talking about? You're lucky I showed up when I did! That was a bad scene, Jenny..." She shouts that it wasn't: "We were dancing around in our underwear, not making a porno..." He says that's step two, and with Max I think he might have a point, but Agnes is the one you have to watch out for. I'm just picturing Jenny giving Max a hotshot of coke by accident and absconding off to Waverly Prep to atone. "Not ever! I would never let myself get in a situation like that. All right? I know what I'm doing, Nate." The thing that Nate has to say to that is impossible to say without sounding bossy, so it sounds creepy and bossy, but he ends on a good note: "That guy was taking advantage of you." If anybody would know...
Jenny, just about over everyone on earth telling her what to fucking do, just straight-up starts screaming: "Okay, you are not my father and you are not my brother, so why do you care so much?" Nate breathes: "Because." She looks up at him, trying to figure it out, and then she does. Something clicks, and she can't believe it's true. She leans in and kisses him, then pulls back, scared. He sighs, like, Oh, hell, and she misreads him again, and starts to run away, but she was right the first time: he pulls her in and kisses her, and holds her tight. The camera goes bananas, and even Gossip Girl doesn't see a downside: "I'll confess: every once in a while, a girl craves her fairytale ending. So sleep tight, kiddies. It seems like Little J got her Happily Ever After..."
So take all that you know and stuff it in a hole
And in ten thousand years someone will take you home
Set the dark on fire
That. Was amazing. Low death count, there was talking good, Mini Cooper's finally here and just about crazy as hell, Blair and Chuck actually managed to have an entire conversation about what we talk about when we talk about love without anybody getting caught in the crossfire, Dan pretty much totally redeemed himself until time, Vanessa continues to earn her horrible fingers-crossed grisly murder, Chuck definitively proved himself a non-sociopath by acting like one, Bart and Lily didn't do any of that scary paranoid Pasadena crap, Rufus apparently discovered a clone of himself that Serena is now going to pursue for the first time in her life, Jenny and Nate finally found the only two worthwhile people in the entire city not named Eric van der Woodsen, and me? I just love you madly. And I'm not afraid to say so. XOXO.