Why Men are good

Sponsors
















LOVE, ETCETERA
...And THAT'S Why You're Single
Cosmopolitan
Em & Lo
Feministing
Glamour
Happen
LemonDrop
Marie Claire
Modern Love
Nerve
New York Times Style
NonSociety
Redbook
Salon
SELF
Seventeen
Texts From Last Night
The Daily Beast
TheFrisky
TreSugar
Why Hasn't He...?
YourTango
Pop Culture Paradise
Entertainment Weekly
Gawker
Hollywood Life
How I Met Your Mother Blog
Jezebel
Jossip
Passive-Aggressive Notes
PEOPLE
Perez Hilton
Popcrunch
Popsugar
PostSecret
US Weekly
Women's Wear Daily
Labels
'Just Friends' (4)
Breakup/Love Letters (11)
Brown-Eyed Editor (26)
Crush Boy (22)
Cute Guy Friend (5)
Dating (44)
Disability (100)
Entertainment and Media (105)
Facebook Flirt (18)
French Fan (2)
Geek is the new chic (3)
Heartbreak (28)
Humor (31)
LA Hot Shot (2)
Letters to my future husband (35)
Life (183)
Love Lessons (139)
Lyrical Gangster (24)
Man Candy (46)
Memo To Men (21)
Missed Connections (4)
My Diaries: A Blast from the Past (42)
My Other Freelance Writing (7)
Newspaper Columns (54)
Online Columns (29)
Online dating (6)
Photographs (71)
Quarterly Review (3)
Random Fun (103)
Shame on you (19)
Singlehood (49)
Top Tens (5)
Word of Wisdom (7)
Young Guns (2)
Young Love (20)
Showing posts with label Love Lessons. Show all posts Showing posts with label Love Lessons. Show all postsWednesday, September 2, 2009
I'm Sorry.

I've had this one written for almost a week now and have been debating whether or not I should share it. But, in the name of honesty and complete disclosure (and, ironically, closure for myself), I've decided to take the plunge. So...here...goes...




I sit alone in my room
Still reeling from the words I said to you
They're the kind of words I never thought I'd say
But maybe I had to anyway

Stephen was the sort of guy who played it cool
He caught my eye, but he never had a clue
Of how I really felt inside
I was just some girl he knew

We were just kids back then
Back when my story began
In those first moments, I saw something in him
I wondered if he'd ever feel that same connection

Falling, falling in love with the fantasy
Spinning, spinning 'round in my head
Of all the things I wanted us to be
I didn't really mean what I said
What a sad ending to this story
But for what it's worth, I'm sorry

I should have told you everything
But you have a way of making me come unglued
I'm speechless when I'm around you
Can't you see me shaking, trying desperately to keep my heart from breaking?

I'm sorry the words got in the way of all the things I meant to say
Seems I'm always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time

Falling, falling in love with the fantasy
Spinning, spinning 'round in my head
Of all the things I wanted us to be
I didn't really mean what I said
What a sad ending to this story
But for what it's worth, I'm sorry

We really were just two kids back then
And maybe all these words are just too late
But in the end, I just want you to know what it all meant
Because now we're just two adults trying to find our way

Falling, falling in love with the fantasy
Spinning, spinning 'round in my head
Of all the things I wanted us to be
I didn't really mean what I said
What a sad ending to this story
But for what it's worth, I'm sorry

I saw you the other day
And I won't be sorry when I say, it took me back

Falling, falling in love with the fantasy
Spinning, spinning 'round in my head
Of all the things I wanted us to be
I didn't really mean what I said
What a sad ending to this story
But for what it's worth, I'm sorry

Falling, falling in love with the fantasy
Spinning, spinning 'round in my head
Of all the things I wanted us to be
I didn't really mean what I said
What a sad ending to this story
But for what it's worth, I'm sorry

Stephen meets my gaze from across a crowded room
And after all these years, he still leaves me so damn unglued
I wonder if he'll ever see
All the things he meant to me...




xoxo,


[Photos via Abby Sharp and We Heart It]


Posted by Melissa Blake at 1:15 PM 12 Love Notes

Labels: Heartbreak, Love Lessons, Lyrical Gangster, Young Love


Post-Breakup Protocol.

Well, seeing as how the term post-breakup implies there was a breakup which in turn implies there was a relationship which in turn implies there were at least two people in this relationship, you've probably guessed by now that I am indeed not speaking of my own relationship; OK, besides the one-sided ones that play out in my head.


Anyway, so here's the situation. I'll just lay it all on the line like I usually do: Remember Cute Guy Friend? You know, the one who maybe, sort-of, from my end led me on just a bit, until I realized he had a girlfriend. Apparently, I was his girl friend, not his girlfriend (a very key distinction, apparently). Anyway, like the semi-stalker/gawker that I am, I've taken to checking out his Facebook page every once and awhile - though more often when I think of everything I wanted us to be one fateful summer (cue sappy movie music).

What should I find last week? He and said girlfriend are not longer an item. Done. Finished. As in, her status is now "In A Relation With... not Cute Guy Friend.

And that, my friends, is precisely when I became a tiger. No, that's not my stripper name. No, it's not the name I go by when I stand on my corner on a hot Saturday night. I mean I wanted to pounce. Pounce. Pounce. Pounce. Damn, I mean, I really wanted to pounce. I'm sure you know the feeling...you sort of want to make your move quickly and go in for the swooping kill.

In other words: I was that girl. The girl who wanted to prey on the helpless man with a recently broken heart. The man who, for all intents and purposes, has always seen me as a friend. The man who is unbelieveably sweet, funny, charming, the smart lawyer type.

Do you see my dilemma here? I've been practically binding my hands together to stop myself from emailing him. Right. Now. It's just...so...tempting. The way I see it, I have a few options.

1). Send him an email pretending to be my nochalant self, asking him how he's doing and saying we haven't connected in awhile (no, not connected in that way...). In said email, perhaps I'd drop a few hints and see if I can get him to confirm alleged breakup. I would remain at my utmost coy and subtle, of course.

2). Send him an email, but keep it strictly short and friendly. Maybe throw in some small-talk about work or the weather (can you believe the summer is over?...) .

3). Do nothing like I always do.

So tell me, those who obviously know more than I do about this sort of thing: What's the protocol here? How shall I go forth from here?

xoxo,


[Photo via Deerlings & Ghostthings]

You might also like:
My First-Ever (Faux) Breakup Letter An Open Letter To Valentine's Day. Dating With Disabilities: When You're His Girl Friend LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 10:00 AM 10 Love Notes

Labels: Cute Guy Friend, Dating, Love Lessons


Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Tales From The Trenches Tuesday.


You've listened (well, OK, read) to me prattle on for nine months now about my search for that happy balance between wanting to find love and enjoying the single-life ride along the way. You've cried with you. You've laughed with me. You've probably even laughed at me a few times too (heck, even I've laughed at myself sometimes, so don't feel bad or ashamed or anything).

Now I'd like to hear from you! I'm starting a Tuesday feature called Tales from the Trenches.

The gist: You email me your love/relationship/dating/single life stories (of the horror-movie or romantic comedy variety or both, whichever you prefer), and your story could be featured on any given Tuesday.

Maybe you were left at the altar. Maybe you left the altar. Maybe you broke up via a text message. Maybe you torched his car.

Email me at mellow142 [at] aol [dot] com with your tales, and we can navigate those treacherous trenches (say that 10 times fast!) together!



xoxo,


[Photos via We Heart It]

You might also like:
The Ethics of Google-Stalking. My Confession: I Am A Prude The Best Of...So Far LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 3:00 PM 12 Love Notes

Labels: Dating, Love Lessons, Singlehood


Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #34

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:


Every woman, whether she admits it or not, suffers from an acute case of tunnel vision when she first spots a guy. She can’t help but zero in on that one trait she finds simply irresistible. Now, I can’t presume to know what your trigger trait is because, obviously, every woman is different – some go for the deep blue eyes, others prefer the tousled brown hair. I’m an arm and shoulders girl myself. I go weak in the knees for the arms of a strong Heartland farmer and the broad shoulders to match (remember my teenage obsession with the nude model/lifeguard? You could fry an egg on his back in the summertime).

But beyond that, guess what? There’s a whole mess of subtleties we notice. And FYI, slick stud, none of them have anything even remotely to do with however hot you think you are or even if you sport the abs of a Greek god (yeah, right. Like you haven’t used that line once or twice….or three times). Scared yet? You should be.

I'm getting the feeling that you probably did a lot of staring at me when we first met, maybe (OK, probably) not for the right reasons like my beautiful mind and shiny red hair. Maybe you were intimidated - it's happened before. Maybe you just simply didn't know what to say or how to talk to me (tip: it helps if you open your mouth first....).

So I figure it's time for a dose of your own medicine.



Read on, Sweetpea...

We notice how you interact with other women: I once sat in a computer lab with a handsome guy in front of me. He was hot, for sure, but then he called the young woman next to him, “Ma’am.” With that one word, his sexiness factor increased exponentially for me. There’s nothing hotter than a man who is polite and respectful; it’s one of the first things we women notice. If a guy is sweet and a good listener, chances are he’s a keeper. FYI: These same rules apply to how you treat you mother, boys, so for your sake, you better treat her well.

We notice how you carry yourself: Confidence is like chocolate. It’s sweet and delicious in small doses, but one overdose can make you swear it off for life. So if you’re the type of guy who swaggers into a room (Read: LA Hot Shot), why not make the swagger into a casual stroll. On the other hand, when a man knows what he’s talking about without sounding too conceited? Well, that’s just about the sexiest thing there is! So walk that balance beam carefully.



We notice when your dorky side shows: Most guys are afraid to admit they still have a comic book collection or still have their Star Wars action figures, but I actually think those sorts of things are what make a man H-O-T. And when he admits it, he moves up a notch on the temperature gauge. There was a reason everyone fell in love with The O.C.’s Seth Cohen, and it wasn’t because he lived in a cool California mansion. A guy’s dorky side is cute, so why doesn’t he show it more often?

We notice how you treat animals: Ever wonder why so many women love taking their dog to dog parks? The park is bursting at the seams with other dogs – and their gorgeous male owners! Chances are, a man who adores a Dalmatian also has a kind a gentle soul. And don’t forget, it could also be a good indication of the sort of father he’d be – the guy, not the dog, though I suppose the same theory would apply in both cases. But don’t go getting any ideas…it’s not like we think you’re our soul mate and the father of our future children or anything crazy like that.

xoxo,


[Photos via ffffound]

You might also like:
Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #20 Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #33 Letters To My Future Husband: The Beginning LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 1:30 PM 7 Love Notes

Labels: Dating, Letters to my future husband, Love Lessons


Monday, August 31, 2009
MEMO TO MEN: Rules Schmules.

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: Melissa
RE: Rules are made to be broken
DATE: August 31, 2009

A short little lesson for you today, boys. I know you tend to have short attention spans sometimes.



I've never liked rules. I've always hated them, in fact, unless I'm the one imposing them, of course. But what I despise most are those dumb, antiquated 'rules' we feel pressured to follow when it comes to dating. Is this 19th Century Victorian America?

I didn't think so. That's why I'm a rabble-rousing, red-headed, rule-breaker. Are you one too? What are the rules you just refuse to abide by?

If you like him, ignore him
Sorry, can't do this one either. If I like you, you're going to know about it. It might take me longer (OK, wayyyy longer sometimes) to work up the courage to tell you. But beware: I WILL TELL YOU. And you know what? I couldn't give a damn if it looks desperate, clingy or anti-feminist.

The three-day rule
Frankly, that is just the dumbest thing I've ever heard. If you have a good date with someone (OK, an exceptional date), why wouldn't you call them? That's just plain rude, and will probably make them feel like you're ignoring them on purpose or something. And why does calling have to be out of some needy, desperate, dependent void that you're trying desperately to fill? Here's a radical idea (maybe you've never even thought of it before now): You call them because you like them, had a great time and want to get to know them. It doesn't mean you're going too fast, breaking some cardinal rule or are in deep danger of scaring them away. Geez, just pick up the phone already - or send a flirty text if that's more your speed.

Eating out on a date
I've got an appetite....of the food variety, you dirty minds! I'm not ashamed about that. I'm a girl who likes her food, so please don't mind me when I confidently order the ribs or steak on our date. Maybe I'll share. Maybe I won't. You'll just have to ask me out to find out. Oh, and my drink of choice on said date is a root beer. Get used to it.

The end-of-the-date etiquette
I'm a prude, remember? That means the most action you'll get is a friendly handshake. But don't worry. If I really, really like you, it'll be a very, very firm handshake - my version of a passionate goodnight kiss on my front stoop. You know, where our fingers linger with each others for maybe a moment too long.

The quiet ones never flirt
This isn't so much a rule as it is a common myth. And you know I'm always the one to do the whole myth-busting thing. I may be quiet, but I'm turning into the biggest subtle flirt. EVER.

xoxo,


[Photo by ffffound]

You might also like:
MEMO TO MEN: Rules Schmules. MEMO TO MEN: What A Mighty Good Man. MEMO TO MEN: 10 Quotes We Hate From You LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 11:45 AM 8 Love Notes

Labels: Dating, Love Lessons, Memo To Men


Thursday, August 27, 2009
MEMO TO MEN: Love Questions.

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: Melissa
RE: The Book of Love
DATE: August 27, 2009


Tell me, tell me, tell me/Oh, who wrote the Book Of Love/I've got to know the answer/Was it someone from above




When I was young, I used to listen to that '50s boppity song "Book of Love" with raptured attention. And like a child, I took it in literal terms. There really was a book out there that held all the questions about this crazy little thing called love, huh? A book of Frequently Asked Questions? That seemed like a handy, dandy little book. I just had to get my hands on it. Not that I was much interested in love then, but I figured it would be something I could at least show off to all the cool kids at recess.

Obviously, I never did find said book. As a result, I've amassed quite a long list of "love questions" over the years. Maybe a few more questions than I care to admit, but here are The Top 5...



Is there such a thing as The One?
I'll admit: I used to be a staunch believer in this one (although you probably already came to that conclusion by now). The whole idea that my soul mate was out there, somewhere in this big, wide world, and we were just waiting to meet each other (well, have fate bring us together, actually) sounded like the perfect fairy tale. EVER. Now I'm not so sure I believe that there's just ONE person meant for you. I still believe in fairy tales, but more of a modified, modern one - Princess Charming included.

How do you know you're in love?
Will it be the equivalent of the Big Bang Theory in my heart, with my blood pumping and pulsating and just all-around overflowing with joyousness? My mother knew she was in love when she found all my dad's quirks cute instead of annoying (trust me, those quirks were indeed annoying!). And my grandmother married my grandfather after dating for less than a year, right before he was shipped off during WWII. So maybe it's something you just have to dive into and access the terrain as you go - beware of prickly thorns, though!

Is a first kiss really that powerful?
I've never heard so many adjectives used to describe a single verb in my life: explosive, jaw-dropping, exquisite, magical, overpowering, gorgeous. Is it really fireworks and all that like everyone would lead you to believe? I love how they portray kisses in movies, usually under a street lamp at night or on a train platform. Such a dramatic lead up (a long, heartfelt speech, or, in other cases, an agrey screaming match) and then a passionate kiss. With my luck, those supposed fireworks would turn out to be misfired nuclear weapons. We're talking on a scale of mass destruction here.

Are you really allowed only one of Cupid's arrows?
If this is true, then I'd like a refund, Cupid. I think my arrow got stuck in the trees or something. Oh, and does that Love Potion #9 come with free refills? Also, is there some sort of punch card or savings club I could join? You know, buy 4 glasses of Love Potion and the 5th one is free. Could be a good marketing move, too, you never know.

Will I ever find love?
I'm attractive on the inside. I know that. So why, then, does that never feel like enough? And who's ever going to find me one ounce of beautiful?

So there you have it. Yet I'm not sure: Should I go searching for it, or let it come to me? I'm thinking my endless searching hasn't proved too effective in the past, so I'm figuring I should set up camp on my back porch, glass of apple juice in hand, put my feet up and wait for my qurky other half.





What about you? What questions have filled your "Book of Love"?

xoxo,


[Photos via Bliss and ffffound]

You might also like:
MEMO TO MEN: What A Mighty Good Man. 5 Lovely Little Questions About Love. MEMO TO MEN: I'll Just Be Honest. LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 10:00 AM 9 Love Notes

Labels: Love Lessons, Memo To Men


Flawed Is The New Beautiful.

Everything looks good from the outside. Perfect, even. The house on the end of the busy street, with its perfectly manicured lawn and its beautiful olive-green shutters. The majestic blue 1950s Corvette, its fresh coat of paint still soft to the touch.

The same logic applies to people, too. The super mom that never seems to break a sweat and always greets you with a smile and kind words. The colleague who never misses a day of work — or a deadline. And you wonder where on earth you can purchase her “happy” pills.

But if you dig a little deeper, scratching below the surface ever so slightly, things — and people — may not always come up roses. Somewhere along the way, we must have missed the memo that brought us the heartbreaking news that, no, life isn’t always perfect. No matter how much we wish it to be. No matter how much we try to make it so, or ignore all the things that make it not so perfect.


All too often, we’re so quick to say, “Wow, that’s perfect. Aren’t those people perfect?” But like the beauty on the outside, looks — and of course attitudes — can be deceiving, and I can’t help but question: Does a pretty outside serve to hide the not-so-pretty, ugly inside? And, why is it so hard to tell people how we really feel? Why do we feel like we have to hide? And, if we’re always putting on an act for people, doesn’t it become that much har der to truly know someone?

I’ll be the first to admit the last year of my life hasn’t exactly been my favorite — one catastrophe seemed to follow another like the domino effect. You wouldn’t know that from the outside, though. My cheery personality masked all those falling dominos. Whenever anyone asked the all-too-popular question, “How are you,” I’d reply like I usually do.

“Oh I’m fine.”

“I can’t complain.”

“I’m good. And you?”

I got really good at it too. I half felt like a talking puppet. Pull a string, and I’ll whip out one of many stock phrases programmed into me

Isn’t that what people want to hear, I thought? I certainly didn’t want to burden them with my problems, and frankly, if I told them how I really felt (those gut-wrenching, pounding-a-pillow thoughts we keep tucked deep in our hearts — they’d probably ask me if I got that info from some Lifetime movie of the week. I knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

Or maybe I’ve grown to like the cheery response because it’s safe. I could keep my guard up and keep my secrets to myself. I feared that if I said exactly how I felt (that my world felt like it was crumbling, that I missed my dad more and more every day and that, well, you know what, sometimes it IS hard to be physically handicapped), all the floodgates would open and I'd become unhinged — a bubbling mess right there in the middle of aisle four of the grocery store. My image would be shattered. Forever.

Come to think of it, it’s a little ironic that my dad was the only one who never seemed to expect those stock answers. My mom’s friend, Cheryl, who she’s known since high school, is the same way. You can let your guard down with her because she lets her guard down with you. She listens. No matter how whiny you are or no matter how grumpy you become. And she knows we’ll do the same for her. Any time. Any where.

Maybe in the end, that’s all any of us ever wants. A world and an ear without judgment. A safe haven for our weary heads and hearts.

But that’s not what people want to hear. They want to see how well we’re doing, so out of habit, we put on our “party face” wherever we go: the smiling, glowing, “I’m-in-control” face. Pretty soon, the face is blended with our true selves and we begin to wonder which is which. We’ve lost ourselves in the process of trying to “present” ourselves to the world.

It’s not anyone’s fault. No one is to blame, of course; it’s just that we’re a product of our culture, whether we like it or not. We expect people to “pull themselves up by their boot straps,” to be the strong, silent type. Any hint of emotion and we get scared.


Sadly, though, there has to be some point where we realize that’s not healthy. We can’t get to know someone, really know them, if we’re not willing to get to know all of them. Scars and flaws and problems included.

What would our world look like if, instead of soldiering our emotions, we laid them out. Not because we want sympathy (OK, maybe sometimes we do), but because we can’t go through life alone. We need people. No one is an island, contrary to that pesky rumor Simon and Garkfunkel started.

I challenge you this week to shred those stock answers you give — and get. Dig a little deeper. You just might realize you’re not so scared of what you find after all.

xoxo,


[Photos via Breakdown!]

You might also like:
The One In Which I Question My (Genuine?) Personality How You Doin'? Sunday Column: So Tell Me All About Yourself LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 8:00 AM 12 Love Notes

Labels: Life, Love Lessons, Newspaper Columns


Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #33

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:


Marie Claire magazine's male blogger recently wrote about relationship deal sealers, and isn't just so refreshing to see a list like this instead of the list of dealbreakers I wrote about a few weeks ago?

To show you that I don't always have to be the glass-half-empty girl, here are some of my very own deal-sealers. You'd better take notes, sweetpea (awww, you love the name? Thank you) -- or better yet, why not print this and keep it in your wallet next to that photo of this year's "to die for" swimsuit model. What? You don't have such a blatantly disgusting photo in said wallet? You're a good boy.

A straight shooter
Those mind games, I admit, can be fun at first - even I play them (and damn well, I might add). It's almost like pre-relationship flirting...a subtle way of courting. But once we've moved past the pre-relationship stage (read: We're IN a relationship), a bucket load of cryptic messages and mixed signals just gets old and, frankly, childish. Really old and really childish. Really, really faaaaaaast. I need someone like me, someone who tells it like it is, and isn't afraid to say things. If you come with no decoding or assembly required, we're have a grand time. Even something as simple and obvious as asking me out (Let's review: Saying "we should probably hang out and see where it goes..." is not the way to ask me out; that's what you'd say to your biology lab partner about your experiment that's due on Monday. I need a formal invitation here....).

A laugh machine
It's no secret that I've been through a lot and seen even more than that in my 27 years, so someone I can have fun with is practically an automatic deal-sealer. Guys who make me laugh also have a cute way of making me feel very comfortable and at ease around them, instead of my awkward default setting. Plus, laughter is a sign that a guy enjoys life. How damn sexy is that? I think that's why I've leaned toward falling for younger guys lately. They just have a way of making me smile, of forgetting all the bad stuff. And they're just darn adorable.

A little damaged
I'll be the first to admit that I've got my own set of scars - both literally and figuratively. Still, I've noticed myself falling for the ones who are a bit emotionally damaged. Call me crazy, but I actually find it a bit sexy - the idea, however misguided it might be - of being that person who could turn a guy's life around and help him believe in love again. Why else would I continue searching for a real-life Chuck Bass or Dr. Gregory House?

A little bit country...or a little bit rock 'n roll
I know, it's a bit shameful and a huge cliche, but if I hear that a guy is in a band, he automatically moves up a notch or two on the hotness scale. And if he's the lead singer (with a guitar slung from his back and a notepad in his pocket for writing down all those introspective lyrics)? Well, I just might have to marry him right then and there. Plus, who hasn't heard of a musician who is at least a little bit emotionally damaged?

A family man
A guy who is close to his family is a guy who has a good head on his shoulders and an even bigger heart. He knows what really matters in life, and if you ask me, that's just plain and simple one of the sexiest traits in the entire world. Plus, his dad could give you a sneak peak into what he'll be like in a few decades.


What are your absolute deal sealers? Is there that one single thing a guy can do that will make you fall head over feet? Besides me, of course... Until we meet...

xoxo,


[Photo via We Heart It]

You might also like:
Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #20 Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #14 Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #9 LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 11:32 AM 2 Love Notes

Labels: Letters to my future husband, Love Lessons


MEMO TO MEN: Awkward Is The New Cool.

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: Melissa
RE: Beware of my awesome strength
DATE: August 26, 2009


Apparently, I'm quite the intimidating creature...and apparently freakishly strong as well. Yesterday, I asked David (who by the way, is pretty cute and charming) of The Rest Is Still Unwritten (coincidentally, his blog is pretty cute and charming as well) why on Earth he never accepted my Facebook friend request. Was I not worthy? Was it me? He replied, and this is in his exact words:



Yes it’s you. You intimidated with me your freakishly strong arm wrestling skills & now I’m frighten I’ve met a girl that could kick my ass!



I just had to laugh, almost outloud, though I had to surpress the laugh seeing as I was sitting in the dead-silent computer lab and I have a (freakishly loud laugh; my sister says it's more of a cackle, but that's a blog subject for another time)

But, the man does have a point. Yes, sirs, you are damn right. I could kick your ass into next week. Maybe even into the next galaxy. What I love about my disability is that it's given me some serious upper-body strength. I can be anyone at an arm-wrestling match. Anyone. I've got muscle, which sometimes makes me a bit awkward (well, more than my standard awkwardness anyway...), but I'm figuring it could come in handy in qualifying for the US Olympic team if they ever create an arm-wrestling event.

So, boys, remember this: Don't let my small size fool you. Ever. I may be small, but the upper half of me can blow you away. What do you think of that? POW!

Be sure to look for David's guest-post on So about what I said... coming soon. Maybe he likes being intimidated by me? Who knows.

xoxo,


[Photo via We Heart It]

You might also like:
MEMO TO MEN: More Than A Pretty Face. MEMO TO MEN: What A Mighty Good Man. MEMO TO MEN: What I First Notice About YOU. LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 9:00 AM 11 Love Notes

Labels: Love Lessons, Memo To Men, Random Fun


Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Candie's Controversy: Smart Is The New Sexy.

Editor's Note: I thought I'd take a closer look at my blog's taglines this week. Check back tomorrow and Thursday as I explore the other two phrases. Enjoy!


Have you been following the controversy over the Candie's Foundation's Abstinence-theme T-shirt campaign? The Foundation, which works to prevent teen pregnancy, partnered with Seventeen magazine for a contest to come up with a new slogan. The winner, Sarina Adams, came up with this latest "Be Sexy" slogan.

The Foundation aims to "educate on the consequences of teen pregnancy [and challenge] America's youth to make healthy decisions about sex," according to a PR rep.

I applaud this T-shirt slogan 110 percent. Critics of the campaign say the Tee is sending teens mixed messages by encouraging them to be sexy, yet at the same time, refrain from having sex.

See, this is exactly what I have a problem with: The inherent intertwining of the terms sexy and sex. You apparently can't have one without the other, society beats into our heads. Since when does being a virgin mean you can't be sexy? The two, as I see it, aren't mutual exclusive. What ever happened to the idea that leaving some mystery and something to the imagination can be incredibly sexy? I'm a virgin, but you know what? That doesn't stop me from feeling like I'm sexy.

Oh, and don't even get me going on the whole idea that sexy can only apply to all things physical. Guess what? It doesn't. Haven't you ever met anyone (besides me, of course) whose personality was just the sexiest thing ever?

Something as simple as a feeling can be sexy - the way a guy makes you feel (not physically, people!), a guy who writes a song for you (I'm still waiting for that one, guys...hint, hint). For example, David of The Rest Is Still Unwritten recently told me he thought it was cute and hilarious when I said that guys should find it very hot that I've been featured in countless medical journals. I know he didn't mean sexy, but c'mon, even that is sexy, right?

Heck, I've found of late that even anticipation can be an extremely sexy thing thanks to a certain new guy, though I'm keeping that on the down-low for right now...

I don't know about you, but I'm scared of a society that chooses to define sexy in such narrow-minded terms. Good for Candie's to be a company to think outside the box for once. They have a unique opportunity here to show the world - and especially teens - that sexy isn't just about how you look, what you're wearing or what you're doing with who. There's so much more to you, and a guy who truly loves you will applaud and respect that.

And lest we not forget part of my slogan: SMART IS THE NEW SEXY.

Bottom line: Don't be surprised if you someday spot me sporting this exact shirt. I'll flaunt it proudly. The shirt, that is...

On a side note, I've always loved these other slogans:

"Be Sexy: It Doesn't Mean You Have to Have Sex"

"Be Smart: You Are Too Young to Start."


xoxo,


You might also like:
The Best of the Blogging World. Could 2009 Be The Year of the Brainy, Sexy Woman? Give It A Rest, People. PLEASE! LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 12:15 PM 9 Love Notes

Labels: Entertainment and Media, Love Lessons


Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #32

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:


It's come to my attention that, during the course of our whirlwind, sweeping romance, I may have let you off the hook a little too easily. I probably bit my tongue and let some things slide, didn't I? Dammit, love has forsaken me, hasn't it? Gosh, I hope it really hasn't turned me into a weeping sad sack. And I'm not talking about the pretty kind you like to cuddle and comfort either.

I'm talking about the walk-all-over-me, I'm-your-doormat sort of sap. Because FYI, Sweetpea (I think that's going to be my name for you; get used to it), there are just some things I refuse to tolerate.

So maybe you should have an emergency suitcase packed like a pregnant woman who's 3 weeks past her due date. Because like a baby, when I spot one of these dealbreakers, I'm charging head-first forward. Your tush will hit the lawn faster than a football hits the 50-yard line.


Now, lest you think I'm being harsh, rude or just genuinely and excessively mean, I have just four words for you: STOP PLAYING THE VICTIM. I know you have a huge list of dealbreakers of your own; maybe some of you even keep a running tally in a notebook hidden under your mattress next to your stack of vintage Playboys (don't think I haven't discovered those, either; I'm a journalist, remember? It's my job). Frankly, I don't really care. You're allowed to have yours and by golly, I'm allowed to have mine.

So grab a notebook and take notes, Sweetpea...

You can't handle my disability
This, my friends, marks the blatant immaturity of a man. If a man is uncomfortable, repulsed or in any way thinks my disability should resign me to a life indoors, undeserving of the same love and passion other women are free to go after, then you can be sure I'll leave him in the dust faster than his little rat brain can process. And to those who say that my disability is a valid dealbreaker, that some people just wouldn't be able to handle it, I ask this question: Where shall we draw the line then? Maybe a woman - or a man - with a birth mark should be lumped into the disabled category too?

You don't respect my V Club membership
Let me just say this: I made virgity, prudishness and chastity hip and cool long before those Disney kids "supposedly" did. If any guy thinks he can sweet-talk or finagle his way....well, you know...he's the double Ds: Disrespectful and Dumb. I don't think I could make it any clearer.
FYI: Virginity is hot. I don't care what anyone says.

You name your....car
What did you think I meant? I'm sorry, but any any guy who personifies his car (i.e. naming it Susie, and when said car breaks, feels the need to say "Awww, poor Susie isn't feeling well." We get it. You love your car. What we don't get, though, is if you know the difference between a car and an actual, living person with a pulse and a heartbeat.

You are just so darn in love....with yourself
Have I mentioned before how irritating it is to have an entire conversation with someone who, if he had the power, would annoint himself a Greek God? Yup, he thinks that highly of himself. And that's not very pretty, is it? Of course I want to learn all about you, but at least save a little something for after the appetizers. Or at least let me drown myself in another root beer before you begin another tale about the great moments in your life.

You are one of the 3 Ls
Liar, Loser or Lazy. There's just too much damage there that even I couldn't work with that. I am so in tune with people that I can spot a liar a million miles away, so there's no use trying to pull a fast one of me. You'd probably be too slow for that anyway.


So what are your dealbreakers? What are the things you simply won't compromise on? READ: NOT compromising is a good thing! Really! Until we meet...

xoxo,


[Photos via We Heart It]

You might also like:
Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #8 Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #26 Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #21 LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 9:45 AM 5 Love Notes

Labels: Disability, Letters to my future husband, Love Lessons


Monday, August 24, 2009
Surrender.

There comes a time when you just have to realize that something might be over. There's nothing you did or didn't do. That's just life, but it's frustrating when you feel like you're the only person feeling anything - in any sort of relationship, romantic or otherwise. Right....?




What if I really told you how I felt?
Just layed all my feelings on the line
What if I started the conversation I've been having in my head
Would that at least start a fight

It was those parts we played that broke our hearts and tore us apart
I was the giver, you were the taker
You were the fighter, I was the peacemaker

So it looks like I might as well surrender
We're not getting anywhere tonight
And I shouldn't have to fight for all the memories I'm trying to remember
So just go home
Because in the end, baby, there are just some things
We'll never know

The awkward silence is all too loud
Your cutting words, they just drown me
Before I can get out of this mess you've made
Is it really too late?

It was those parts we played that broke our hearts and tore us apart
I was the giver, you were the taker
You were the fighter, I was the peacemaker

So it looks like I might as well surrender
We're not getting anywhere tonight
And I shouldn't have to fight for all the memories I'm trying to remember
So just go home
Because in the end, baby, there are just some things
We'll never know

'Cuz you're feeling nothing
Damn, I wish you felt something
Why am I the only one saying all thoae words you know we're both thinking
It shouldn't hurt this much, the things we discover
So I'll just surrender

So it looks like I might as well surrender
We're not getting anywhere tonight
And I shouldn't have to fight for all the memories I'm trying to remember
So just go home
Because in the end, baby, there are just some things
We'll never know

Surrender
Surrender
Surrender...

Please just go home
'Cuz I don't want to know...


xoxo,


[Photo via Abby Sharp]

You might also like:
You Know. Lyrical Gangster. You. LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 1:00 PM 13 Love Notes

Labels: Love Lessons, Lyrical Gangster


Thursday, August 20, 2009
The Virgin Monologues Part III: Male Virgins Are Hot.

I'll just say it: There’s something incredibly sexy about a male virgin. He oozes with sex appeal, though he's never actually hit the sheets with a women.


Is that weird of me to think that? Am I avoiding some subconscious, repressed memories or something?

A man who chooses to remain a virgin is respected, revered, sometimes even praised. A woman who chooses to remain a virgin is abnormal, weird and in desperate need of some type of intervention. Stat.

But then again, society does seem to prefer women virgins. What's up with that? What do you think?

Maybe this whole thing is really just about me. Maybe I'd feel more comfortable around a male virgin, for obvious reasons. Would I feel less intimidated? Would I not feel like the only innocent one in the room?


I'm not quite sure, exactly, but there's something quite enticing about exploring that realm with someone who's on the same journey, you know? Like something so private that only the two of you share. Together.

xoxo,


[Photos via oh, hello friend]

You might also like:
The Virgin Monologues Part III: Male Virgins Are Hot. The Virgin Monologues Part I: OMG, You're Like A 'Virgin' ... The Virgin Monologues Part I: OMG, You're Like A 'Virgin' ... LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 7:30 AM 10 Love Notes

Labels: Disability, Life, Love Lessons


Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Virgin Monologues Part II: The Purity Myth Mystique

Yesterday, I explored the virginity stereotypes I've encountered over the years. Obviously, it was Completely false, fabricated and riddled with more foolishness than a carnival of clowns.

Marie Claire recently sat down with co-founder of Feministing, Jessica Valenti. They were discussing the release of her book The Purity Myth. I thought perhaps Valenti’s interview would give me some answers – or at least some intelligent insight. The interview disappointed me greatly. As a virgin reading the interview, it came across as Valenti's attempts to demoralize and criticize virgins, as if we’re somehow the problem, as if we’ve given people, in particular, women who do have sex, a bad name.

It’s all our fault, apparently.


While I do agree with some of Valenti's assertions, some of her quotes did trouble me. Let's explore them, shall we?



"Virginity and chastity are reemerging as a trend in pop culture, in our schools, in the media, and even in legislation."

Neither of these - virginity or chastity - ever left, actually. People just aren't as afraid to openly talk about it now. Something tells me it was those very stereotypes that made it go into temporary hiding in the first place.


"The lie of virginity — the idea that such a thing even exists — is ensuring that young women's perception of themselves is inextricable from their bodies."

Actually, it has absolutely nothing to do with my body. It's quite the opposite in fact. It has everything to do with me respecting myself as a person. The book acts like sex is no big deal. That's the real threat to women in their fight to change the myth a woman's true value is tied only to her body. Don't worry, I'm not one of those "My body is a temple" people, but a woman's body is hers. Why shouldn't she be proud - and protective - of it? Why hop in to bed with any Joe Schmo just to prove that women are just as animalistic as men?


The main misconception of virginity is that it exists! There's no medical definition. It's a completely cultural invention. It's such a huge deal and yet it's so amorphous. There's no real way to define it at all.

Wow, this one perplexed me the most. I just had to sit and stare at that quote for a minute or two. So by the same token, then, the terms slut and promiscuous, but you don't deny that those exist. Interesting.

Finally she says that "America's obsession with virginity is hurting young women." I'd say the opposite it true. Women are constantly bombarded with sexual images every day, images that tell them that if you're not doing these things, well, then there must be something wrong with you. You're abnormal. You're a freak.

"Lose your virginity already," society practically shouts at them. It seems to me that the book - and frankly, society at large - underestimates the role a women's virginity plays in her life. Maybe it's just me coming from my perspective of being a virgin, but did you ever think someone's virginity might, possibly be about something very deeper than sex itself? Feminism itself was founded on the principle that women hold the power to make choices and decisions that are right for them, regardless of the outward pressures they face. It's not about trying to act superior, pure or some "morally elightened" woman. It's not about "sticking it to the sluts."

Shockingly - and probably surprising for a lot of people - it doesn't have to do with ANYONE.


And what's with this whole US vs. THEM mentality? Since when are virgins and non-virgns playing for opposing teams? It's almost as if society wants to pit us against each other in some metaphorical boxing ring. Frankly, I'll have no of it - I just realized the same can be said of my reasons for my virginity. See, we virgins aren't bad people. Get to know us, and you might discover that we're actually funny! Or maybe we're just overcompensating? No, we're most definitely funny!

Yes, a woman's body obviously isn't her defining characteristic. It doesn't define her. Like my disability, one's virginity is merely a part of them, not the part. It scares me when a society seems to be encouraging young women to do things before they're ready. People - and this includes men too - need to go at their own pace.

I feel the same way about the subject of virgity that I do about my disability. Please don't place me - or anyone (and yes, that does include non-virgins) - in your nice little categorical box.

Thank you.

Be sure to tune in tomorrow where I will tackle the male virgin - metaphorically, of course!

xoxo,


[Photos via Abby Sharp]

You might also like:
The Virgin Monologues Part II: The Purity Myth Mystique The Virgin Monologues Part I: OMG, You're Like A 'Virgin' ... The Virgin Monologues Part I: OMG, You're Like A 'Virgin' ... LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 11:00 AM 11 Love Notes

Labels: Disability, Life, Love Lessons


Love Lessons: It's OK...

The summer I turned 14, that boy waltzed into my life. I'm sure you know the one I'm talking about - literally and figuratively here. Your first love. It wasn't as if we were strangers who met each other's gaze across a dimly lit room, and after talking and laughing the entire night, decided that we were soulmates.

No, things started off far more innocent than that. We'd already met. Some years before, actually. I'll spare you the starry-eyed details, but suffice it to say, something deep within me shifted one day that summer. I noticed his mop top of black hair, his puppy-dog brown eyes, even the way his smile made me giggle inside. It didn't hurt that his chiseled chin and broad shoulders channeled a young Jake Gyllenhaal.

But it was those eyes. They seemed to look at me in a different way. They pierced right through my soul.I was hooked, and for the next 10 years, I nursed a hopeless crush on him. I'd go out of my way to pass him in the hallway, giving the ever-popular, over-enthusiastic wave.

A few months ago, as I was rummaging through a drawer filled to the brim with memories - pictures, report cards, the lonely Minnie Mouse Pez dispenser searching for her Mickey - I found my seven volumes of journals. Amid the furious scribbles and girly doodles, my eyes began to glaze over with each new entry in which I professed my undying love for the boy. Words like true love and phrases such as “I see myself spending the rest of my life with him” littered each page, in all seriousness, to my 14-year-old self.


And all the while, all I could think of was, “That poor girl.”My adult instinct wanted to reach back in time and shake some sense into her. Didn't she know she was sacrificing who she was all in the name of some guy? Shame on her.But my teenage self wasn't the feminist I am today. Maybe I didn't want to be. Maybe I was innocent enough to go after the fairy tale. Grand social statements be damned!If only we could look back through the lens of womanhood. We could all learn a thing or two from our girlhood crushes.

And so in honor of the Boy I'll Never Forget, I offer these generous gems. I hope my 14-year-old self is listening.


Love Lesson #1: It's OK to like the fantasy more than the reality
The more I got to know him, the more I realized he just didn't measure up to Superman's twin I'd spent years creating and tweaking in my mind. In the fantasy, I could have it all: the perfect date, the most romantic of marriage proposals, the satin, chic white dress, the flawless marriage. The perfect everything.In my fantasy, we could be soulmates who live out their retirement years swinging from a porch swing and sipping tall glasses of lemonade. In my fantasy, we could be anything. We could be everything to each other. In reality, we were acquaintances at best, and I was an awkward teen with oversized glasses and a dorky laugh. But in reality, he wasn't Superman. He was just a man(umm, well not even a man, a boy at the time).

Love Lesson #2 It's OK not to change yourself
When I was 16, I made an extensive list in my journal: WAYS TO GET HIS ATTENTION. Among the must-dos? Use big words. Act smarter. Read The Wall Street Journal. What in the heck was I thinking? I was so willing to change myself at the mere thought that being who I wasn't would be the only way to get him to finally see me. I didn't even care that it would be a fake me - just as long as I could get his attention.

Love Lesson #3: It's OK to still giggle with glee at his Facebook
I'll be the first to admit I squealed louder than a girl going to her first Bobby Sherman concert when my detective skills paid off and I found him on Facebook. Since then, I've logged hours clandestinely keeping tabs on him via the wonders of technology. It's harmless fun, I reason. A fun little trip down memory lane. Pictures, anyone?

Love Lesson #4: It's OK to still feel like a schoolgirl around him
I bumped into him recently for the first time in months. We're both adults now. We're supposed to be mature and have the world all figured out, but for some reason, my hands got clammy, my stomach churned and I became a bumbling nerd. But it felt great. Exhilarating even.

Love Lesson #5: It's OK to let go
This one took me awhile to embrace and I'm not entirely sure if I'm even fully there yet. If I finally said goodbye, would I have really wasted years of my life chasing a hopeless fantasy? But things slowly became all too clear. I'd reasoned for so long that as long as I never disclosed my feelings to him, there would still be the possibility - however slight - that someday, all the hope I'd shored up in my heart would become a blazing reality. I knew I had to close the journal of my life chapter with him. I had other crushes over the years, but he remained my one constant. The crush I could always fall back on, no matter how much time had passed. He remained that warm blanket you snuggle under in the cold winter night. The friend you call at 2 a.m. crying. He was my favorite pair of heels. Something safe and cozy I could easily slip back on as if no time had passed. But the truth was, sadly, that I'd outgrown that shoe, that it no longer felt right. I'd moved on - and grown up - and it was time for a new shoe. Something tells me I'll always remember that shoe, but like fish, they are plenty more shoes in the sea.


What have you learned from a past love, even if it was an unrequited one? Do we even ever get over that first one?

xoxo,


[Photos via Abby Sharp]

You might also like:
I'm the girl with the hopeless high-school crush 5 Reasons You Need To Get Over Your First Love. Finding My Inner Beauty LinkWithin
Posted by Melissa Blake at 10:30 AM 7 Love Notes

Labels: Love Lessons, Young Love


Dating With Disabilities: Love And Disability

Teaser: I still have so many questions when it comes to how and why my physical disability affects my love life. But the real question I have to ask myself: What would happen if I just asked a guy out on a date...?



Dating With Disabilities: Love And Disability

xoxo,


[Photo via Le Love]


Posted by Melissa Blake at 7:30 AM 4 Love Notes

Labels: Disability, Love Lessons, Online Columns


Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #31

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:


No one knows more about love than the heartbroken. Those whose hearts have been slashed, torn, bruised, thrown away, stomped on and even recycled know all too well that it takes a bit more than some salve and a Batman Band-Aid to heal their wounds and regain their superhero powers.

Simon and Garfunkel are privy to that secret too.

A winter's day/In a deep and dark December/I am alone/Gazing from my window to/the streets below/On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow/I am a rock/ I am an island-- they sang during the swinging '60s - a time of pondering and predicting.

I can't help but feel like a solitary rock. An island tucked deep away from any sign of civilization. Can we ever truly be an island unto ourselves? When does aloneness become loneliness?

Don't talk of love/But I've heard the words before
As much as we want it to be, love isn't always red roses and sweet candy. This week, lovers will be buying roses and carnations by the dozen and walking hand-in-hand with their sweetie as they rifle through that box of candy hearts looking for the perfect sentiment to appropriately mark the occasion.

Take me last year, for example: I had hope. I had determination. I had resolved that I, too, would find my other candy-heart half. I waited and waited - and waited - for my Prince Charming, roses in hand, but neither the horse nor the prince galloped to my doorstep. And when I realized that it was nearly impossible to beat a dead horse who is not even there, I vowed to give it all up. The search over. The curtain closed. Love obviously didn't want me, so I didn't want it. Heck, not only did I not want it, I didn't need it.

I've built walls/A fortress deep and mighty/That none may penetrate
So in an attempt to cloister myself from the world, I found myself on my own island. At first, I felt at home with the surrounding nature. I could sit on the metaphorical sunny and sandy beach all day and bask in having an entire island all to myself. I longed to be a ruler of one, and here I am, finally achieving peace, I thought. Safe. Isolated. Relieved.

And a rock feels no pain/And an island never cries
But happy? I kept waiting for it, hoping it would magically appear or fall from the leaves of the magical palm trees nearby, but it never came. The plain truth was that in my search for shelter, for safety, for some semblance of peace and clarity, I'd accepted seclusion as the most suitable option.


And like the song, I have my own books - or in my case, my own magazines - to protect me. They're my suit of armor -- something I can easily and conveniently hide behind. I'd never have to face anyone as long as I keep a fresh supply of shiny stacks close by. My words could forever be my mask, my own private disguise.

But in reality, can it really be only one or the other? Are we forced to choose between complete aloneness or complete saturation in society?

It can't be that black and white. Because it's got to get pretty lonely on that massive island all by yourself - not to mention all those cold and windy nights. There has to be a boat out on the horizon somewhere. Its lights are peeled ahead, desperately looking for you. And something tells me you're looking for it too because whether I'll admit it or not, I'm looking for that rescue boat too. When it docks at the shore, I'll hop on, but this time, maybe I'll leave the raggedy old books and things behind. After all, do I really actually definitely need them anymore? I think I'm strong enough now to weather the storm without them. Maybe I've found my superhero power once again.

Until we meet...

xoxo,


[Photos via oh, hello friend]


Posted by Melissa Blake at 2:30 PM 4 Love Notes

Labels: Disability, Letters to my future husband, Love Lessons


The Virgin Monologues Part I: OMG, You're Like A 'Virgin' Virgin??

Editor's Note: I received some email last week regarding my Virgin Monologues series, so I thought it only prudent to re-post this ahhhh-mazing (no pun intended) series for all my lovely new readers. Enjoy!


I’ll just say it: I’m 28, love taking long walks sunny days and I’m a virgin.

Yes, as in virgin virgin.

No, I don’t use this line at parties as a way to sound hip or cool, though I am both hip and cool.

Newsflash: I’m content with that. Dare I even say, I’m a bit proud of standing my ground and not being ashamed with MY CHOICE?

A recent interview between Marie Claire magazine and Jessica Valenti, author of The Purity Myth , got me, how shall I say this, a bit hot and bothered – and not in that way, if you catch my meaning.

Why is it such a taboo for a woman to be a virgin?

Why does she (read: me) feel as though she constantly has to explain herself: why she’s a virgin, the reasoning behind her choice, whether there is something “wrong” with her, when she plans to “seal the deal"?

Why on earth does she act so damn righteous about her choice?

Worn out yet from all the questioning?

And worse yet, why does everyone else feel the need to formulate a reason? Does it somehow make them feel better about themselves if they can concretely explain us, the supposed freaks of nature? Do they need to feel superior?

I don’t sit around trying to justify why some people do the Bedroom Rumba before others do, so I ask you: What gives others the right to join in on the crusade to make the term virginity such a bad word in our society? Here’s what I’d like – and I hope I speak on behalf of all virgins out there. You’re not alone; well, unless you’re in bedroom, but again, that’s your choice, for you to make, to decide what is right for you:



Don’t judge: Just stop believing the stereotypes. Please. It’s just getting old, and quite frankly, a bit sad. No, I'm not a member of some church cult (I'm actually anti-church, thank you). No, my disability isn't the reason. I don't think that my being a virgin makes me "pure" or any of those other crazy terms floating around out there. And I'm definitely not some repressed girl with family issues. In fact, I think I've heard 'em all, so no other "far-out" stereotypes people make would surprise me anymore. Sorry to disappoint you on that one.

Be respectful: Here we are, back to that word choice again. Need I remind you that it is my choice? You can never understand a person or her life until you've walked in her shoes (or in my case, taken a ride in my wheelchair - no, that is not some coy euphemism). I may not agree with your choices and you may not agree with mine. That doesn't mean we should still respect each other.

Don’t be afraid to ask: Obviously, I don’t walk around wearing a T-shirt that says “Living Virgin” with an arrow pointing upward to me, though that would probably give me some funny looks, wouldn't it? Come to think of it, it's almost worth doing just for the comic value alone.

Back off: I think this one is self-explanatory, both to the anti-virgins out there and to guys in general.

Will I end up being a real-life 40-year-old virgin? Who knows. Do I care? Hell no.

xoxo,


[Photos via oh, hello friend]


Posted by Melissa Blake at 12:30 PM 7 Love Notes

Labels: Disability, Life, Love Lessons


MEMO TO MEN: Missed Connections.

Editor's Note: This was my frame of mind almost 9 months ago. It looks like some things never change, huh? Will I ever get the hang of this? What do guys think of awkward-flirty type girls?

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: That awkward girl sitting next to you
RE: Why she's staring
DATE: August 18, 2009


So as some of you may know, two months ago, as I was writing in the computer lab, my eyes drifted away from my computer screen and my hands stop mid-type when I saw the most gorgeous guy (and yes, I'm going to sound like a teenybopper, but I don't care.). EVER. He seriously looked like he'd just strutted off the runway or jumped out of one of those hot Calvin Klein ads. Do the Illinois cornfields really produce such gorgeousness, I wondered?

I thought for a moment about how to handle the whole situation, since I was obviously as smitten as a kitten, about how I could get Model Man's attention. Oh, wait, I thought. I'm sitting in front of the best relationship gadget of our time: The Internet. A few clicks and types later and I had this message posted on MySpace and Facebook:



To The Cute Guy In The Computer Lab
Yeah, I kmow it's a long shot, but if you were the cutie in the Kish computer lab (the big lab in the new wing) at around 9:15 this morning, just wanted to say I think you're cute! You were wearing a blue shirt and brown khakis, and I thought our eyes maybe, possibly, could have met (or maybe it was just me). It probably was just me.

At any rate, I'm not a stalker. Really. I'm just a horribly bad flirt.



As is status quo with me, I never did find out anything about Model Man, not even a name! And then THIS MORNING, I'm sitting in the computer lab (again) and see a man who looks suspiciously like Model Man (again!). Well, I was all I could do to keep from squealing like I did during my Nsync phase, before Justin got a huge head and broke up the group (which, by the way, is very Unsexy! Boo, JT!). Anyway, my heart is hoping it's the same guy. Either that or he has an identical twin, which wouldn't be a bad deal either, would it?

But yet again, I can't even work up the courage to say hello, let alone thing of some witty comment that'll knock him off his feet. Which makes me wonder: How do some people have the confidence to approach people? How do YOU find the confidence? What are your special tips and tricks?

P.S. As I type this, I just noticed he came back. Oh no? Did he see me type this? Part of me hopes not. But a bigger part of me does....

P.P.S. Gosh, he just called a woman "Miss." I think I'm in love.....

P.P.P.S. I JUST got a glimpse of his face, and WOW, he looks just like Dean from Supernatural. I AM in love....

UPDATE: As he was leaving the computer lab, I tried to give a smile, thought we might have made eye contact and realized we probably didn't. Oh well.

xoxo,


[Photos via ffffound]


Posted by Melissa Blake at 8:00 AM 14 Love Notes

Labels: Love Lessons, Missed Connections, Singlehood


Thursday, August 13, 2009
MEMO TO MEN: What A Mighty Good Man.

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: Melissa
RE: What a man, what a man
DATE: August 13, 2009


Men get a bad rep. Granted, sometimes it is warranted (like when he's trying to be mysterious on purpose or act cool when, frankly, he's neither of the two).

I've never been one of those women who get a kick out of insulting the opposite (except when it's warranted, of course). Why? Do I some sort of disease or something, an incurable case of Male Stupidity Blindness?

I don't think it's as serious as all that. Really. I'm a feminist, mind you, but I can't help how I feel.

I say enough with the man bashing already! Let's not forget that they do have their good qualities, too.

And with that, here are my Top Ten Reasons I Love Men, plain and simple (which, ironically, is how I like my men too).



1. They may say they like blonde, swimsuit models, but they'll ultimately (and fully) admit that it would get old eventually - the ideal and the woman. They really do like quirky girls (SCORE!).

2. You can take what they say at face value. There's no hidden message encoded in their language, unlike women (I'll admit that even I'm guilty of saying one thing and meaning another. Men say what they mean and mean what they say. Phew! At least you don't need to be a detective to figure out how they feel.

3. They don't obsess over those tiny things and are a heck of a lot less critical of our appearance than we are. That's good for me, because I refuse to put on airs for anyone. But sometimes I do look in the mirror and hate all the "flaws," as I see them. Men? They don't even notice; heck, they don't even notice when we get a haircut - and that's a GOOD thing!

4. Men have an unnatural ability to just make me burst out laughing. Who doesn't need a little laughter in their life?

5. Men are adorable.

6. Men don't pretend to like something if they, well, really, really don't like it. Props for honesty.

7. Men realize everything isn't and shouldn't be perfect.

8. Men can be pretty handy with a hammer and nail.

9. Men don't throw around the words "I love you" very lightly, so when he says it to you, he probably means it (and if he's just trying to get you in the bedroom, you KNOW he doesn't mean it, so kick him to the curb ASAP).

10. Men are incredibly loyal to their friends, so there's none of that Mean Girls-type gossip and backstabbing going on.