Two Day Magazine

By: Mia Bencivenga

Picture this:  You’ve just watched sixteen-year-old heartthrob, Justin Bieber, sing his prepubescent heart out at the staples center in Lost Angeles.  His white boy gangsta style, smooth moves, and lack of facial hair have got your heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings.  The fact that he could double for an adult lesbian also turns you on, because clearly, when it comes to picking out potential partners, you have questionable taste.

But alas!  He is so famous.  You, a young nineteen-year-old girl named Mariah Yeater could never hope to snag him.  “Besides,” you think, “he looks like he’s not a day over twelve, and pedophilia is largely looked down upon by society.  Sigh.”  

But then, through some strange turn of events, you meet him.  He confesses his virginity to you, “Fear not, my dear feminine friend,” you say, “I shall take care of that!  Let us go to the nearest bathroom stall, where I shall deflower you in a gloriously trashy fashion!  Away!”  

It must be a bathroom stall, of course.  For you see, Justin’s just starting out, so if he wants to have an impromptu sexual tryst, it’s not like he can afford a hotel room or anything.  And it’s not like he has security guards that could watch the door while you get it on in your dressing room or anything.  I mean, the kid’s really pinching pennies here.

So then, you are in the stall.  You’re wildest dreams have come true.  As you gaze lustfully into his light brown, almond shaped whilst defiling his sixteen-year-old boyish frame, you can’t help thinking, “Wow.  What a good decision I’ve made.  Hmmm…wonder if we should have used a condom?  Doubtful.  If I end up bearing the fruit of his loins, I’ll wait until the baby is born and then I’ll sue the shit out of him in public.  That’s a great way to get both money and respect!”  

In the time it took you to think that, it is already over.  Justin regroups, fixes his bangs, and disappears within a cloud of glittering smoke, leaving you to deal with the consequences of your carnal actions all alone.

Fast forward about a year.  You are now twenty-years-old, have a young infant at home, and realize that now is your time to gain what was rightfully yours.  A little bit of that sweet, sweet Bieber cash.  

Now, friends, does this seem at all plausible?  

Hint:  The answer is NO.

I’m a nineteen-year-old girl, and no offense to the Biebs, but I have no desire to do what the Spanish call “the naughty tango of noncommittal love,” with him. (*The Spanish don’t actually call it that.  I believe they call it sex like the rest of us.)  

I mean come on now.  I’m pretty sure the only reason why Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez can stand the sight of each other is because they both look like their faces were cryogenically frozen before they reached puberty.  I understand he’s famous and there’s that whole stereotypical thing that “women like power” and blah blah blah, but I’m sorry, no amount of  money can make me want to bone a boy who is facially prettier than me.

Also, do you really think that with all of his management (not to mention his mother!) around, they would let him out of their sight for more than ten minutes to go give it to some girl in a public bathroom?!  And that no one else in the arena would recognize Justin’s love cries/excellent dance moves as he sings out in amorous passion/does the moonwalk of shame through the freaking Los Angeles Staples Center?!

The answer, once again, is a big fat NO.

So, miss Mariah Yeater, I now speak directly to you.  If he isn’t the father, (and I’d bet my college level supply of ramen that he’s not) you are screwed.  That boy has got a legal team that would make O.J. Simpson nervous.  

Now, I see that you’ve already withdrawn your case, but I’m afraid the damage has been done.  If I were you, for the good of your child at the very least, I’d recant, and keep my mouth shut.  You might also want to issue a public apology, and you know, start focusing on raising your CHILD.

However, if he is the father, may I offer you my apologies and politely ask that you donate some of the “Mia Bencivenga Foundation” for college students in need.  My aforementioned supply of ramen has been getting rather low, and finals are coming up.  Thank you.

What do you mean you don’t want to give me any of your baby daddy money?  You should follow in the father of your child’s footsteps and do well to remember the phrase “Never Say Never.”

Well, folks, I’m not sure if there is a moral to this story, but if there would be, I suppose this would be it:

Celebrity paternity battles are never fun, so, in the words told to me so wisely by a dear friend, “Before you deck her, wrap your pecker.” 

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