B sends Serena off to be with Ben for the last few minutes of Valentine's Day, and then lets Dan know that she already submitted his article to Vanity Fair and was just dicking him around this whole time. Why? Because they are BFF, secretly, but out loud maybe even more shockingly, because it was: Good. "Sharp, and well observed. When it comes to experiencing an ex with a new love, you have some insight."
Ha! The only time people read on this show is when it's thinly veiled autobiographical Dansturbation. Of course Blair's like, "I see the quality, now that it perfectly describes my own situation." Anyway, they climb into their separate beds and watch Rosemary's Baby together on their laptops, because they are each other's Valentine but could never go on a real date right now. It's like Age Of Innocence or Witness where you only touch people with gloves, only instead of gloves it's Netflix.
You can tell the Captain has turned over a new leaf and is no longer a scumbag by how he hands Chuck the cardkey to Russell Thorpe's office and all of his computer passwords. I'm so glad he's committing to his probation and not engaging in high-level corporate espionage. On the other hand, at least it's for rent from a child millionaire and not for drugs. And he hasn't dragged Nate into it (yet), so maybe he's learning after all.
Um, Serena and Ben mush their faces together. Dan and Blair mush their brains together.
Eric pours his heart out to a fellow volunteer because he's still Meals-On-Wheelsing at midnight (most of the senior and ailing citizens love nothing more than a good after-hours knees up and some Meals On Wheels comfort food for the inevitable hangover) and then to shut him up ("I got more hugs tonight from strangers than my grandmother's doled out my entire life!") the lady tells him that "a guy" came by earlier -- cute, brown hair, kinda gay vibe -- and that he said he'd just be lurking around the corner in a dark alley full of broken glass and abandoned splintery boards for when Eric got back from feeding the needy.
"Jonathan!?" Eric interrobangs, and runs full-tilt around the corner and into the squeezing bad-touch arms of one Damien Dalgaard, who is now undercover as a Rasta but still wearing six pounds of eurotrash makeup. "Remember how you used to lay in my bed for hours whining about your fucked up family and how Lily forged that affidavit? I am about to fuck your whole family over."