Right when the best part of "Bad Romance" happens, the thrilling "I don't want to be friends" part, Serena gets sex ADD and stops even pretending that she's helping Captain Tripps with his packing, so she grabs his face and for some reason goes, "Are you okay?" and then they... Whatever they're doing, it's not because they wanna be friends. Doesn't it seem like they've been doing this dance of death for like sixty years? I know my fake rule-abiding persona would say that this is immoral, and my secret real personality thinks that marriage is gay and stupid anyway, but when I try to feel feelings about Serena fucking a married congressman it's like, "Finally. They've been sniffing around each other since the Eisenhower administration." All it would take is one glint of Tripp's hot crazy-eyed lust and I'd kick the door shut behind me like a startled mule and get to it. I don't need your rules, man. Shit is not that complicated.
Meanwhile Jenny texts Damien, "I love drug deals! Come box me out any time!" and his forty-year-old ass makes some kind of Gollum stomach-turning pervert face, and Nate is still at Brandy Library trying to reconstruct what brought him there, and feeling a far-off sadness for a reason he's working on remembering, and Dan watches Vanessa chatting with her TOTALLY GAY BOYFRIEND, and Lady Gaga acts like a monster of course and then lies down in a makeshift casket/birthing chamber made of ladder and gay dudes, and is totally amazing and the opposite of whatever the unholy hell we had to deal with at the Bleecker Inn, and somewhere out there Tim is thinking of you and loving you tonight, and drawing quick charcoal sketches of you in different outfits, some he remembers and some he made up, and around his neck there is a dogtag chain, and hanging from that chain there is a ring, inside his shirt, next to his heart, just for you, and on the inside of that ring, glowing softly in the firelight, is written some kind of Elvish shit.