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What am I going to do?
Seriously. This can’t be happening. I cannot be suffering from major histocompatibility complex for Michael. That is just…that is just ridiculous.
On the other hand…why else have I always been so drawn to—okay, completely obsessed with—the way his neck smells?
This explains everything. He is my perfect dissimilar MHC match! No wonder I’ve never been able to get over him! It’s not me, or my heart, or my brain…it’s my genes, crying out in longing for their complete and total genetic opposite!
And what about J.P.? This perfectly explains why I’ve never been that physically attracted to him…he’s never smelled like anything but dry-cleaning fluid to me. We’re too MHC compatible! We’re too close of a genetic match. We even look alike…the blond hair, light eyes, same build. How did that person put it, so long ago, who saw us together at the theater—“They make a very attractive couple. They’re both so tall and blond.”
No wonder J.P. and I have never even gotten past first base. Our molecules are like, REJECTION! REJECTION! DO NOT MATE!
And here I am, demanding that we do it anyway.
Well, with a condom.
But still. Offspring could result, down the line, if J.P. and I get married.
OH MY GOD! I wonder what kind of genetic defects our kids would have, considering I get no olfactory vibe from him at all! They’ll probably be born all aesthetically perfect—just like LANA!!!!
Which, think about it, is a serious genetic defect. Being born perfect would turn any kid into a horrible Cloverfield-type monster, just like Lana (well, for the first seventeen years of her life, considering how awful she was until I tamed her a bit). I mean, if you’re born perfect, like Lana, you never have to learn any coping mechanisms, the way I did growing up. Because beautiful people can often coast along on their looks, never having to develop a sense of humor, or compassion for others, or anything like that. Why would they have to? They’re perfect. If you’re born aesthetically beautiful, the way J.P. and my kids would be, basically, you’re a monster…and my genes know it.
That’s why whenever J.P. kisses me, I don’t get that thrill I always did when Michael kissed me…MY GENES DON’T WANT ME TO GIVE BIRTH TO GENETIC MONSTERS!!!!!
What am I going to do?????? I am scheduled to have sex in less than two days with a guy with whom I am a complete MHC match!
AND THAT IS THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF WHAT MAJOR HISTOCOMPATIBILITY COMPLEX IS ALL ABOUT!
My MHC mismatch is someone who broke up with me almost two years ago!
And who, despite what my grandmother and best friend seem to think, does NOT love me, but really just does want to be friends.
True, J.P. and I have so much in common personality-wise—we both like creative writing, and Beauty and the Beast, and drama.
While Michael and I basically have nothing in common except a deep and abiding love for Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Star Wars (the original three movies, not the hideous prequels).
And yet I might as well admit, I have an insufferable weakness for him. Yes! I do! I cannot resist the way he smells. I am drawn to him the way the American public is drawn to Tori Spelling.
I have got to fight this. I can’t allow myself to feel this way about a boy who is so incredibly wrong for me (except, of course, genetically).
But what if I’m not strong enough?
Thursday, May 4, Psych final
Mia, is it true? Is J.P.’s play really going to be a movie?
Ahhhhh! You scared me! I don’t have time to talk about this now, Tina. I just figured out J.P. and I are total MHC mismatches…or, matches, really. Our children are going to be perfect genetic mutants, like Lana! And that Michael’s my MHC match! That’s why I’ve always been obsessed with how his neck smells! And why whenever I’m around him, I act like a total blithering idiot. Tina, I am a dead woman.
Mia…are you on drugs?
No—don’t you see what this means? It explains EVERYTHING! Why I’ve never felt attracted to J.P…. Why I can’t let Michael go…Oh, Tina, I’m being held hostage by my own MHC. I’ve got to FIGHT it. Will you help?
Do you need help? Because I could call Dr. Knutz.
No! Tina—Look. Just…never mind. I’m fine. Pretend I never said anything.
Why does everyone always think I’m crazy when I’ve never been saner in my life? Can’t Tina—can’t everyone—see that I’m just a woman who’s busy trying to take care of business? I’m eighteen now. I know what I have to do to get things done.
Or, as in this case—not done, I guess. Because there’s nothing I can do about this.
