I never thought Mia Thermopolis would be my first kiss (heterosexual, at least)…besides Lauren Summers, and I was freaking FIVE.

But in all seriousness, a lip-lock with my little sister's best friend was not in the cards. My Tarot cards, that is. I'm also apparently not supposed to smoke near banana stands if I want to be a successful grocer.

Which I don't.

I can't just deny that the Thermopolips came right at me, with full intent to turn me on.

And I can't deny that her endeavor failed miserably.

It was nice…I guess. But what sort of nice?

Edna Mae: And then Mabel says, she says to me, "Of course Ed skinned me a tater!" Isn't that just the cat's meow? I always have the most wonderful time settin' on her porch.

Mary Lou: How nice.

Maybe I'm bitter. But can I help being a little angsty when I don't the teensiest bit of a tingle from a big wet one…planted by a member of the opposite sex?

It was nice in the way It's a Wonderful Life is. Not one erotic moment. At least not one that gets to me. Which is kind of the main problem here.

I've got to stop calling it a problem. Being homophobic would be like…fearing my own shadow. And I happen to think my shadow portrays my hips in a rather forgiving manner.

Sunrise came after hours spent aimlessly…showers…reflection scrutinizing…crunches…experimental flat-ironing…blinking…breathing…scraping off the polish I painted on my nails in a particularly weak moment…

The bounce was noticeably out of my step as I snuck into Lilly's room, and I'm sure it's not just a result of my sleepless night.

Lilly was already in the kitchen puttering around, I knew, so it was perfectly safe to tip-toe inside and have a private conversation with Thermopolis.

Just not a private conversation if you catch my drift. And few seem to.

I watched as Thermopolis blinked herself out of the haze of exhaustion. She's got fairly nice eyes. And the lips (which were pressed so lovingly against mine not twelve hours ago) aren't shabby. They look even better when glossed.

But they don't quite do it for me in the same way Felix's chapped lower lip and green eyes (flecked with gold) do.

GET….OVER…FELIX…MORON.

"Sorry about last night," I said quickly to Mia, before the much-needed slapping of myself could commence. "I was just a…little confused." When HAVEN'T I been confused lately?

Strangely enough, the only moment that came to mind was my little confrontation with Felix. The homoerotic one. The climax of this whole mess (in more ways than one).

"I didn't realize you liked me that way."

Mia was speedy to apologize as well. "But I just thought...um…you liked me."

I guess I'm the only one not buying my shit any more.

But I couldn't exactly clue Mia into that one. Isn't that what Martha was tossed into the slammer for? Insider trading!

I may have some sweet decorating tips…but I'm not about to torch my life (it is growing quite flamboyant). "I do like you, Mia. But…"

Don't say but! I HATE big but's!

"But what?" asked Mia, her well-groomed (unlike my half-ass job) brows arching in confusion.

I tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and grinned somewhat sadly. "I don't know."

"So what now then?" Mia asked after a nail-bitingly long pause.

Chewing on the side of my lip, I racked my brain for a plan…a diversion for her until I'm fully ready to divulge.

"How about we just see what happens?"

Brilliant, Moscovitz! Things happen for YEARS! And that's precisely how long it might take.

Thankfully, my course of action seemed agreeable to my unsuspecting gal pal.

I offered to cook her a meal (but not too good of a meal…otherwise that might lead to questions…and questions might lead to answers involving the words 'Julia Child'…and then those promised years I just attained would go up in flames…literally).

I think I'm getting quite good at this 'in the closet' thing. Maybe there's some kind of underground magazine I could write for. "How to Get a Beard Incognito!"

The thing is, I've got one of those ridiculous consciences that tend to fuck with all great masterminds. It's not that I want to use Mia. I just want to use my mad skillz in a desperate attempt to convince everyone that I'm not a fan of male genitalia.

And if those skillz include wooing a sweet girl-next-door type, then so be it.

Sooner or later, I'll have to learn to handle little displays of affection she throws my way. Like this evening, for instance, Mia decided that our 'happening' for that night would be holding hands.

I can do that! Palm-to-palm with my homegirl Thermopolis…it's just like a lengthy handshake!

And while I'm doing the Hokey Pokey of handshakes with Mia, I'm totally free to ogle Johnny Depp's magnificent swagger. Who's the wiser!

I am! Teachers always muttered angrily that I'm a genius, but I hadn't fully realized the benefits till now.

Lilly excused herself in order to refill on popcorn. That's when things went a bit downhill.

Without Lilly, I had no excuse not to engage in sexual contact with my beard…girlfriend. Friend with benefits?

Except the benefit isn't what most might assume…in fact, the only benefit that could come from this is people thinking that Mia is my girlfriend. So that term doesn't really go up our alley.

Isn't that cute? We've got an alley together.

Or so it seems…wink wink.

I wonder if Felix would let me hold his hand if we were in an alley. No one would suspect a thing, because it's OUR ALLEY!

Maybe this girl from Trinity is his beard! Maybe he thinks I kissed him by accident, and that's why he didn't immediately succumb to my advances!

And then Mia had to jump into my very wrong, very deluded fantasies to kiss me on the cheek.

Believe me…bearded cheeks don't feel quite so good against my own.

Not that Thermopolis has facial hair. I'm being poetic, damnit.

"Maybe we shouldn't," I said, feeling squeamish. "Lilly'll come back any second."

Slightly disgruntled, Mia folded her hands into her lap and glared at the screen.

Which left me fully unable to enjoy Orlando's delicate features.