If you follow me on twitter you may have noticed my random tweets about shit that happened on Gossip Girl a long time ago. True to my essential slow-class nature, I was two seasons behind on the happenings on the upper east side and have been spending my toothache-induced sleepless nights getting caught up. There are a lot smarter things I could have done with that time (like maybe writing blog posts?!?), but it was worth it for one simple reason: I got to gorge myself on Chuck Bass.
Ah Chuck Bass, for a short White man with questionable teeth, that is one seriously hot piece of ass. How can anyone not lust after him? He’s dashing, well-dressed, and obnoxiously confident. Cunning, complicated and tortured. On top of which he’s a fucking sarcastic asshole. And he’s into freaky shit. AND he likes Black girls. Talk about my dream man.
All my life I’ve wanted to marry a Chuck Bass. For as long as I can remember, my idea of an ideal marriage is one in which I had to handle my man.Because he didn’t operate like a normal human being. I always wanted a relationship where I was my man’s island – the only thing in his life he could trust to be true. A relationship where I had to work overtime to give him what he needs but I was rewarded with undying love and ferocious protection. A relationship that from the outside in looked completely fucked up but from the inside felt like we’d invented love.
When I look back at the three important relationships in my past, I see now that I was looking for the Black Canadian version of Chuck Bass but falling painfully short. They did a bang up job on the complicated/asshole/requiring handling part, but fell crashingly down on the undying love and ferocious protection part. And maybe that’s because a man (or a woman) who requires so much management is inherently selfish and therefore congenitally incapable of providing that kind of love in return.
At any rate, as I watched episode after episode of Jenny’s raccoon eyes, Blair’s scheming, and Vanessa’s imposing her lofty moral standards on everyone around her, I got antsy and rolled my eyes so much I’m surprised they didn’t get stuck. Until Chuck came on the scene and then my day was instantly brightened. Even as I watched Blair cry oceans of tears over the fucked up shit he did, I never stopped wanting them to be together (fuck that prince!).
I wonder though whether a relationship with a man like Chuck is truly sustainable. Although I really believe that some people were born to be lovers and others were born to be loved, life with a man like Chuck is fucking exhausting. The longest I lasted with any of my pseudo-Chucks was 3 years; is there a woman alive who can last a lifetime with a man who requires constant vigilance?
In case you’re wondering, my current Mr. Max couldn’t be any farther from a Chuck Bass. In fact if anyone’s a Chuck in our relationship, it’s me. And while it’s refreshingly enjoyable to be with someone who doesn’t have to be monitored like a flight risk, I do sometimes wonder what kind of man I’d end up with if he were to suddenly disappear. Would I resume my quest for a real world Chuck Bass? Return to a life of having to be careful and indulgent and solicitous and put myself second all the time? Or is that kind of relationship only appealing until you’ve experienced something different?
I don’t know. But what I do know is this: Chuck Bass could get it from me. 99 different ways.
But what do you guys think? Do you see the appeal in a complicated asshole like Chuck Bass, or do you prefer the emotional balance of the Dan Humphrey’s of the world? Speak on it in the comments.