You know those two really hot male leads in Gossip Girl? Well, I was never attracted to either. I did find a tiny part of me feeling something for the beau of the Pretty Reckless chick, but if I had to name anyone specific on that show that I felt attracted to, it was Pretty Reckless herself—Taylor Momsen.

I didn't watch the show myself, save the times I went to a friend's house. She watched Gossip Girl and shipped the main couple—I couldn't name them if you made me. Her brother watched it with us, too. "For the girls," he'd said. The moment we bonded over our mutual attraction for Taylor Momsen was the moment when we became friendlier than his sister and me.

I wish I could spend some time spelling it out for you, but it happened in the blink of an eye. Not even his sister could have imagined us getting closer and becoming a couple. Two years later, he'd be elected homecoming king with his ex getting homecoming queen, and we'd break up. "How are you so unfazed by this?" He was whiny and reminded me too much of those sappy nice guy characters in romantic comedies who get upset because the women they like chose some other guy—and why are we letting men continue to make these movies? When will Hollywood be dominated by women? Am I the only one who's over all this?

"What's wrong?" The voice that asked this was soft and concerned.

I looked up. The voice was also male. It was then that I realized I was in the men's restroom and not the women's—and that explained the smell.

He walked over and wiped my tears with a handkerchief. It reminded me of my grandfather, always pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. This one didn't smell like cigar, though.

His name was Tristan. My ex's sister and I never spoke again, and I numbed myself to the world.