But it's not a great feeling to make so many assumptions about a character's denial -- especially when every other character on the show has become so transparent and, well, silly -- or about the layers on layers of what they've got going on. That used to be fun, but the show took away too much of her power base to make that worthwhile, so you have to at least indulge the idea that she's being as silly and shallow as the rest of them, and be very clear about when you're coloring outside those lines.

Because if you can't trust Blair to say -- or at least signal -- what she's really doing, then you become as bad as Chuck. That's what bothered me about Abusegate and what continues to sting after that bullshitty-but-not-entirely-bullshit apology scene last week: If you get into a position of telling a girl, even a fictional one, whether or not she's a victim, you're removing her choices, and that makes you the abuser. You must find a context to ground all the decisions equally so that you can hear the story they're telling you.

And in that spirit, I'll give you this: Both Blair and Daniel are fucking lost.

INSIDE

Blair's stuck up a ladder when a tuxedoed gent arrives with a beverage; she thinks it's Louis but it's Chuck. He offers to help her down, and when she gives in, she falls and just keeps falling. Here are some lines from the original scene:

"I haven't seen him in such a state since he was kicked in the head by a polo pony," says the brother, and "Amnesia has definitely set in. He's completely forgotten he's engaged. He wants you," and, "Object? To you? It's as though a window had been thrown open and a lovely breeze swept through this stuffy house. How could I object?"

"Even though the breeze comes from the garage?" she says. "This is the 20th century, Sabrina," is the answer.

I guess I'm just hoping there's more to this. Because as it stands, you've got a Powerful Woman who never ever needed a man -- who chowed down on macarons and masturbated like a G6 when she was upset -- but has become, in the new order, this Manhattan princess who's about to be absurdly awoken from her fairytale. Surrounded by ridiculous camp figures like Elizabeth Hurley, holding boot camps for her bridesmaids, getting married at 19, pregnant and barefoot and trashy trashy trashy. Either the story's permanently rewritten, or there's a backdoor of which not even Blair is fully conscious.