Gossip Girl Blue Balls

That Gossip Girl episode with Blair masturbating, as in, the best episode ever of the greatest show of our time.


Here is a compiled list of that which nymag’s gossip girl recap commented on regarding the Chuck and Blair blue balls situation:

• Gossip Girl narrates Blair’s sleepy fantasy about Chuck: “Every girl dreams about finding her Prince Charming. But if that prince refuses to come?” Plus 5 for the Chuck impotence double entendre, but showing him going down on her in the limo was a little gross, we must say. 

• Weirdly, what happened with Blair and Chuck rang true to us. They panicked, they were scared, and they came a little too close to having their bravados burst. Plus, they are both such drama queens that they’d choose to stay in misery rather than turn to banal courtship. Plus 5.

• Also, it’s so teenage for them to say they’ll “wait” for one another. Plus 2. In reality they will get total Sudden Revulsion Syndrome in a matter of months, shuddering in embarrassment every time they remember baring their souls in such a dramatic way, and eventually move on, completely forgetting about the whole thing. 

• Blair would have never referenced having to “finish something” to Dorota after her interrupted sex dream. That’s way too embarrassing. Minus 2. An additional minus 2 for Dorota reminding her that “God is always watching.” Dorota would never be that judgy — or perceptive. She’s a nun, isn’t she?

• “The nape of the neck is Chuck’s Kryptonite.” Honestly. We’ve allowed ourselves to suspend some disbelief about Chuck and Blair’s supposedly mind-blowing sex life, but this is too much. Teenage boys are interested in two things, and neither of them is the “nape of the neck.” Minus 2.

It seems unbelievable that nymag could be so on-target with everything surrounding the Chuck-Blair saga–and even referenced MTV’s Undressed (“Once again, Gossip Girl cycled through plotlines like a week’s worth of episodes on MTV’s Undressed. “), which was clearly the greatest show of our time pre-gossip girl–yet they got it SO wrong with the masturbation scene. 

Plus a hundred points for a girl masturbating scene. Plus two hundred points for a parental figure walking in. What could be more realistic? I still fear my mom walking in everyday. More on that later. Plus five billion points for an anyone masturbating scene. There is so much sex on TV and, yet, in real life people spend all day masturbating. Granted, the plot lines surrounding masturbation aren’t very interesting, but it seems somehow unrealistic that on TV people’s sex lives are entirely consumed with actual sex, whereas in real life, people get off to the people they want to have sex with and then once they have sex with them, they get off to it even more. And it’s still at least sort of hot to think that TV characters prolong the utility of actual sexual situations by continuing to get off to them. Although, in Gossip Girl, it is used as a crutch, as substitute, for sex that can’t be consummated. 

That part about how Blair would never mention it to Dorota because it would be way too embarrassing, well, true enough. The “God is always watching” line is just comic relief, so I will take it at face value. The part of the nymag analysis that is true, but not especially perceptive is: “Dorota would never be that judgy — or perceptive. She’s a nun, isn’t she?” No one is really that judgy about masturbating, because who cares. Parents/parental figures have better things to worry about–like boys. But the reason why Dorota wouldn’t be that perceptive isn’t because she’s a nun and therefore not conscious about sex; it is because no one thinks that girls masturbate. I mean, everybody knows that girls masturbate, but no one ever knows when girls are masturbating. This is both a perk and a drawback of being a girl.

My parents have nearly walked in on me masturbating hundreds of times. Of course, this never happens because there would be nothing more embarrassing than your parents–or anyone–walking in on you masturbating, so you always manage to pull up your pants, look somewhat composed, and prepare for alternate courses of action in time. It is never too late. You will go to any end to conceal. But the reason I’ve never been walked in on masturbating isn’t because I am an expert a buttoning my pants and wiping off my hand; it is because no one ever knows what I am doing! People don’t even know what it looks like for girls to masturbate–what it would entail to regain composure and clean up.

There is no recognition, upon a parent entering, as to what is going on. And it isn’t just because if you acknowledge what is happening, it is embarrassing for both of you. People don’t have enough time when they walk in on embarrassing things to calculate their reactions. If you pretend to not notice exactly what is going on, at least you acknowledge that you’ve seen something you shouldn’t have. You apologize for barging in. With my parents, there is nothing like this. If my mom expects me to follow her to do something, she demands that it is at that moment. It doesn’t occur to her that I am under a blanket because I have no pants on. Parents don’t understand the good ol’ blanket trick. Like in Basketball Diaries how they joke about how their moms must think they have colds, my mom must have thought I was constantly cold! But, no, nymag is right, Blair would never have said she needed to finish something–that would have been way too embarrassing–she would be as dutiful as possible so it looked as if nothing was being interrupted and she was just going about her mundane, daily activities. 

Minus five to Gossip Girl and minus five to nymag. In another nymag reality tally, they explained how it would be unrealistic to have brunch during a school week, because students have to wake up godawfully early. Likewise, there would be no girly maturbating before school. To wake me up for school, my mother had to dump water on me and drag me out of bed. Maybe a Chuck sex dream would illicit some sort of hand response, at least my rolling over my hand, but when I realized how fucking early it was, I would demand “five more minutes” and not because I had something that I needed to finish. 

The ultimate failure of the nymag recap is that they give points for the corny double entendre–the classic Gossip Girl narration that made me cringe until I realized that Gossip Girl isn’t just good because it is bad–but they claim showing Chuck going down on Blair in the limo was kind of gross. Kind of gross!?! What could possibly be hotter? Oh yeah, having him turn her down, up the stakes. Even more masturbatory material. For Blair, not me. I only get off to Degrassi. 

Also, nymag purports that their list is of reality points, but all too often what they seem to be rewarding is awesomeness points. If we are talking reality, then I am pretty sure that when I get off to people, I actually envision them. Minus five billion hundred for nymag.

I have to say that by now I am getting a little sick of the Chuck-Blair blue balls. It was hot for a while and an ingenious way to keep us interested since no one cares about that new couple who is too vomit-provoking for words. Yes, it is even realistic that two enormous egos panicked at the first sight of vulnerability. But that doppelganger thing in last week’s episode was just weird. Fuck already. There are plenty of interesting outcomes that spawn from sex, especially long-awaited sex. Some involve masturbation. Others involves jealousy. This Chuck-Blair lovey-dovey, responsibility stuff is just sickening. Chuck should have driven off in the funeral episode, when Blair finally tells him she loves him, because her speech is so fucking sickening. Who cares that she will be there for him. We know that. He knows that. The only hot thing about that episode was him crying to her. Hottest thing ever. Even hotter than not hooking up. Now go fuck.

Not being able to fuck someone because you actually love them? So realistic. So adolescent. So… me.

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