I sat there waiting and watching a bearded lady make out with her boyfriend on the bench next to me. I couldn't keep my eyes away from the long, wispy strands of hair underneath her chin, the way his hands reached up and stroked her cheeks, stubble and all.

I was angry at first- the whole "how come she has a boyfriend and I don't" misery that was so characteristic of me then.

I saw you coming through the glass doors and stood up and met you half way, whispering to you of what I had seen, and my agony over this perceived injustice.

What I realized three days later was that if the bearded lady could find someone to love her, then I surely wasn't doomed to involuntary celibacy for the rest of my life.

But it took 3 years later for any of it to happen. And even then, there were doubts. There still are.

The moral to this story: Don't sleep with anyone who secretly thinks you're butt-ugly (Wait for someone who thinks you're hot shit... because if the bearded lady can get laid, anything is possible).