Mandy likes being the boring one, because it makes people ask less questions.


The rest of them get shit. Where do you go, what do you do at night, what do you wear?

Who do you fuck, what have you done, whats your bad little secret? Those are the real questions, but they’re always phrased in a smug, backwards way, like those girls are too dumb to figure out what they’re really asking.


They ask things like, “Do you think you’re a role model?”


Like, “Is your next video going to be sexier?”


Like, “If you’re still a virgin, how do you and your boyfriend…work around that?”


Mandy reads their interviews and marvels at the audacity of these journalists, the pure balls. No one would ask her these questions. They wouldn’t even think of it, because she’s little Mandy Moore.


Of course, the other girls kind of ask for it, with their short skirts and innuendo, their badge of virginity and their underage drinking. Its not like Mandy is a saint, but she has the common sense to keep her private life private. She only sings things she wants other people to hear, only wears clothes that reveal what she wants to reveal. The things she says are always final answers, inviting no more questions.


Mandy knows how to handle things.


Because she dresses like a normal teenage girl, except with better labels, no one ever asks if shes a good role model. Because she sings about puppy love and teenage hurt and coming of age, and not about sex, no one puts down her music, even though its written by other people. Because she’s in a movie about love and marriage and religon, no one questions her acting.


Because she’s the good one, no one even asks about her virginity. Never mind that she and Wilmer had so many pregnancy scares that he finally went out and bought an engagement ring, just in case. Never mind why they broke up.


Never mind.


But its better this way. Mandy may have to hide herself, but at least she’s hiding in plain sight. Mandy could go out to clubs and drink til she pukes. Mandy could pick up whoever she wanted and take them home with her, if she so chose. By now she could even wear whatever she wanted, sing whatever she chose, because she’s so firmly ingrained as the Good Girl in people’s minds that nothing could shatter that, nothing.


Mandy knows that she, and Willa, and Christina, they’re the smart ones, hiding in plain sight. The good girl who tries to play bad just ends up screwing herself in the end. Look at Britney, look at Christina. They get more shit than their fame is worth. Willa and Christina act the bad girl, short skirts and sex and none of the innuendo, the am-I-good-or-am-I-bad game. And people leave them alone.


Maybe it sucks, having to be the extreme, but at least you’re allowed to just be. Mandy kisses girls now, goes to clubs with rainbow flags and dancing lights, and no one ever bats an eye. The only place she’s ever in the tabloids is the best dressed section.


Mandy can sleep tight, with her arms around her girlfriend, without having to lie about it. She can take her to premieres, walk arm in arm with her, even call her ‘my girlfriend’, and people will write it up as a ‘close friendship’.


Mandy knows how to tell people the truth, the way that they want to hear it.



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