Until I'm fully sure things are crystal clear with Thermopolis, I don't think I can handle being around her. Or talking to her, knowing that she's only talking back to get into my pants. Truth be told, I feel a bit used. I mean, here I was thinking she was so great and awesome and snazzy. I even gushed about her in my journal, told Lilly what a cool girl that Thermopolis is, AND burned her a CD filled with all the music I've been pretending not to like, entitled 'Michael's Ultimate Dance Party Hits.'
But then it quickly became apparent why Mia wasn't fazed by my confession.
BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T BELIEVE ME.
Don't I feel important?
So, as you can imagine, all that muck I thought I had finally dug myself out of went and caved in on me again.
You know what, though? I think I'm being melodramatic. I mean, sure, Mia made a mistake. But she did seem sincerely sorry. And once we got to talking, and I mentioned my fondness for Brandon Boyd's ass, she seemed pretty okay with my homosexuality.
Wanna know another strange thing? Of course you do, because you're me. And I control you most of the time…
I'm okay with my homosexuality.
Before Saturday, I was kind of embarrassed by the whole situation. It wasn't just my sexual orientation—it was a curse and a hindrance upon my ability to pimp it like all the other guys. Whatever that means.
But once Mia started questioning my status, it hit me that there's no question about it. Well, I already knew that bit—especially after my porno experiment—but I didn't know that I could accept that information quite calmly. Even smiling a bit, if you can believe it.
Things aren't so horrific after all.
School Monday morning shook my little foundation just a bit. Added to the prospect of seeing Mia again was being surrounded by guys I now knew I wanted, and wasn't shy about this desire.
Maybe I should come out. I mean, I've gotta come clean some time if I ever want to wear boxer shorts around the house again.
Mia trailed me into school, calling my name with increasing despair.
Oh, Christ. Love moans.
"What, Thermopolis?" I said when she fell into step beside me, my tone a bit more brittle than I intended.
She had the decency to look chastised, which softened me just a tad. "I…I want to talk. Can we talk?"
If "Wanna see my Buffy figurines?" means "Let's swap spit, baby," I wonder if this translates into oral sex.
"Just talk?" I clarified quietly. "Because I don't want you getting it into your little head that we can do anything else."
She met my cold stare bravely, and I quickly checked her eyes for signs of lust. Nada.
"No, I know that," she said heavily. "And I want to apologize for it."
"You already apologized," I reminded her.
"Well, did you forgive me? Because I get the feeling that you're still mad at me. And you have every right to be, I stuffed up, and I get it. But I really am sorry."
I could tell by the big, teary, doe eyes she was flashing my way that she truly meant it. In a weird way, I could feel her pain. I mean, I had a crush on Felix and couldn't act on it because he wasn't very enthused about me jumping his bones. Same with Mia!
I think that's why we get along so well, which we do when there's not all this useless sexual tension…she's my homegirl. Fully aware of where I'm coming from. I mean, come on. We both like guys…these guys happen to be eternally unattainable…and also our names both have the letters 'M-I-A.' And if you take Mia's WHOLE name, they've both got 'M-I-A-E-L.'
If that's not X-Files-worthy, I'm not entirely sure what is.
OH.
MY.
HOWIE.
I can't breathe. I can't even really think, though I won't be cocky and say that's a huge difference from my usual routine…
There sat poor Michael, thinking he was doomed to a life of lust for his ex-buddy. And then Oprah, or whoever controls the universe, delivered a swift kick to his rather cute ass.
In the form of a total studmuffin.
Not only is his tush rival to mine, he's got the most killer eyes on the planet. Of course, they're somewhat overshadowed by his total bushman brows, which is more than slightly discouraging (think about it…bush and unplucked? Not the best omen).
He was in my Psych class third period. I swear, when he strolled confidently into the classroom and plopped down in the seat in front of me, I just about died. His WALK has got to be the most perfect thing I've ever laid eyes on. So smooth…so sexy…so…so…
WRONG.
COMPLETELY WRONG.
Have I learned NOTHING! I mean, what would a cute, well-groomed, witty teenage boy want to do with the mistake that is Michael Moscovitz?
Especially when he can be laying girls left and right.
Just forget it. Haven't I cried enough lately? Sheesh.
When the bell rang, I made sure to keep my eyes averted as the new kid walked out of the room ahead of me. Except one quick peek. But what else am I supposed to salivate over in my long, spinster years?
Mia had reports of a new feller too. But his description didn't quite match that of my new object of horniness.
AGH! Don't put it like THAT!
God, I hate when I have to lay the smackdown on myself. Because then I find my overbearing and hypercritical. And those are just two more faults.
Since Mia seemed so well-informed about New Boy Dos, I decided to delve into her fountain of knowledge for some own information I shouldn't need to possess.
"I saw another new guy hanging around," I said in a completely unsuspicious manner that I really hope is endearing, because I've had to use it often. "Maybe they're related? It would be a pretty big coincidence if there were two new guys at the same time otherwise."
I didn't hear Mia's response, though, because Old Slick purposely shoved his beefy jock elbow into my gut.
"Move, fag," he barked, baring his teeth menacingly at me.
And even though we're practically the same height, I found myself cowering. "What did you say?"
He couldn't have said that…right? It wasn't possible that he had actually heard my conversation with Felix in Computer! This was all too…too real! And far too soon!
Josh repeated his request, with a cutesy reference to me packing fudge or something. I'm really not hip on these sorts of derogatory terms, though I knew what he was getting at.
What EVERYONE would soon be getting at.
What was sure to haunt me for the rest of my life.
Through the crowd, I could totally see New Boy watching me intently, his beautiful eyebrows furrowing in concentration.
Maybe he comes from the South or something. Probably isn't used to the big-city bullying and the big-city closet gays and the big-city whimpering of one confused Michael Moscovitz.
"What? He is gay," Josh chuckled in response to Mia's semi-supportive ramblings. "I heard him talking about it with Felix. Or is it supposed to be a secret?"
He DID hear! God, now I know why I'm not a freaking spy.
"Can't he stand up for himself now? He needs to get his fag-hag to stand up for him?"
I'm the hag. And the fag. And a drag. I've definitely suffered jet lag. The only good thing about not being a girl is that I'm never on the rag. No one outside of the movie Clueless should bust a sag.
My psychotic rhyming continued as Mia yanked me down the hallway, though there was a brief intermission as Josh's last words cut in.
"Make sure you tell him to keep his fag hands away from me. I don't swing that way."
No one does! In fact, I think the movies have been lying all this time. I am the only homosexual in…in…well, America. I've got Sir Elton over in bonny England.
My 'fag-hag' had dragged me up to the locked entrance to the school roof. "Oh, God, Thermopolis. Now everyone's going to know!"
She shushed me, putting her arms around me in a completely friendly manner. "It's okay. Maybe everyone will just take it as a joke."
I informed her that jokes usually don't involve the recipient bursting into tears and fleeing the scene. "I should have denied it! I should have said something!"
"But then Josh would have called you on your denial. If he really did over-hear you talking to Felix about it, then he knows. He can't have made a lucky guess like that."
"I'm not ready," I muttered, rocking slightly back and forth. "I'm just not ready for everyone to know. I was happy in the closet. It was safe."
She combed her fingers through my bangs as I sniffled. "I'm sorry. I guess you just have to come out a little sooner than you wanted."
Anything's sooner than never.
