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Well, aside from the whole saving-thousands-of-livesand-making-millions-and-proving-his-worth-to-my-familyand-Us-Weekly thing.
But if he knew he had a chance at sex, wouldn’t he…stay?
I know. It’s CRAZY.
So crazy, in fact, it just might work.
No. NO!!!! I can’t believe I wrote that!!!! It’s wrong!!!! I mean, to use sex as a means to manipulate someone. It goes against my feminist principles. God, what could Grandmère be THINKING?
Except, of course, Grandmère doesn’t HAVE any feminist principles. Well, I mean, she does, she just doesn’t think of them that way.
And then, of course, there’s the whole Waiting Until Prom Night thing. I mean, I promised Tina. We PROMISED each other we’d hold on to our Precious Gifts until prom night.
But that was before. Before Michael decided he had to go on this crazy robot arm quest.
Surely Tina would understand—
Wait. Am I really considering this? No! No, it’s wrong! It’s horrible! I could never do something like that! I would be robbing the world of Michael’s robotic arm thingie! I can’t do something like that. I’m a PRINCESS, for crying out loud.
But what if—just what if—Michael and I had sex in Grandmère’s abandoned suite at the Ritz, and he liked it so much, he decided not to go after all? Wouldn’t that be WORTH compromising my feminist principles? Wouldn’t it, actually, be MORE feminist, because by keeping Michael around, I will be able to smell his neck, and therefore release serotonin into my brain on a regular basis, making me a calmer and more well-rounded individual, and a better student leader and role model to young girls everywhere?
AHHHHHH Michael’s back with the napkins. More later.
Wednesday, September 8, 11 p.m., the loft
Well. That was very nice. We had a lovely dinner, followed by cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery (yes, the one from “Lazy Sunday” on Saturday Night Live).
Then we made out all emotionally for half an hour in the vestibule of my apartment building, while Lars pretended to be putting money in the parking meter, even though the limo has diplomatic plates and we never get ticketed.
I really don’t think it’s the extremely high levels of serotonin batting around in my brain right now due to smelling Michael’s neck for so long (not to mention oxytocin, a hormone that rushes to the brain in moments of intense sexual pleasure, and which is why in Health and Safety they advised us not to have sex with anyone we hadn’t known for a while, due to the fact that oxytocin can cloud your judgment and make you feel like you’re in love with someone, when in fact it’s really just the oxytocin and you really have nothing in common at all, or even actually like each other. Which actually explains why Grandpère married Grandmère).
No. I really think this is it. I am ready. Ready to give away my Precious Gift. Ready for the Big S.
Which is why I said to Michael, as he was getting ready to leave, “Don’t make any plans for tomorrow night. I have a surprise for you.”
And Michael was all, “Really? What is it?”
But I said, “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
And Michael just smiled and said, “Okay,” and kissed me again and said good night.
And left.
Oh, he’s going to be surprised, all right.
And I know that technically Michael and I making love is illegal, since at sixteen I am still one year away from the age of consent in the state of New York.
I also realize that deciding to make love to my boyfriend two years before I actually planned to just because I don’t want him to move to Japan and I think there is a very strong possibility that he won’t go if he knows he has access to free sex whenever he wants is manipulative and anti-feminist.
But I DON’T CARE.
I CAN’T let him move to Japan. I just CAN’T. I am very sorry for all the open-heart surgery patients who may suffer because of this very selfish decision on my part.
But sometimes, a girl has to do what a girl has to do just to stay sane in a topsy-turvy world where one minute, you’re eating cold sesame noodles, and the next minute, your boyfriend is leaving for Japan.
That’s just how it’s going to have to be.
Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Should I do this? SHOULD I DO THIS????
