The verdict is clear by now: I’m going to need a decoder ring (or at the very least, a translator fluent in Guy Speak) for all my future interactions with Crush Boy. Check out this response he sent me:
I could have just let it go at that. In fact, I should have let it go, but I’m Blair Waldorf and this guy is Chuck Bass to me. I. Can’t. Let. It. Go. So what exactly did I do? no, I didn’t ream him out again. After all, I apologized, remember? I am nothing if not a woman of my word, which, ironically, can sometimes be a bit too wordy as evidenced by my reply:
Lordy, what do you make of this? Or am I the one making too much of this? I’m starting to think that he and I are far more alike than either of us will ever admit – and that probably only adds tension and fuel to our I-don’t-even-know-what-you’d-call-it fire. I call him out for being vague and aloof, but maybe I’m only so defensive because I see the same behavior in myself. I hate that I’m like one of those swirling helicopters – you know, the kind that keep hovering and moving in continuous circles in the air, but never land on target. Maybe everything I say is merely meandering around what I really want to say. I hint and hint at things, but what if I just came right out and said them, bare bones and nothing else (metaphorically, of course). Oh, shoot…there I go again. Damn my metaphorical brain!
But I will be blunt about this: If he wants to play these head games, I’m all for it. I’ll play right back. Oh, it is so ON. Maybe he needs to start his engine….