all you ever wanted.

Confession. I have an addiction. A serious one. Rom-coms. There, I said it. There's no shame...maybe a little. It's not my fault-- blame my mother. She's the one who let me watch Steel Magnolias at the age of nine. I was raised on Julia Roberts movies. I worshipped her. Don't even get me started on Disney Princesses, that's a whole other post. Now you might be thinking: "What's the problem? I like rom-coms too". Well my friend, I have been thinking about it for awhile now, and there has been some serious revelations. Recently, the surge in the availability of porn has been linked to unreal expectations about sexual relationships. Porn is becoming more extreme in its portrayal of sex, and how people are supposed to have it. It seems to me that romantic comedies are like porn for (some) women.  Romantic comedies are extreme in their portrayal of love, and how its supposed to happen. We grow up believing in order to find true love there will be hoops, hurdles, car chases, and at least one makeover. From personal experience, if a man doesn't chase my taxi down to get my phone number, or send a dozen red roses to my workplace, I start to think he isn't interested. In fact I've been insulted when a guy gave me his number, instead of asking for mine. At some point, it would appear, I was brainwashed into thinking that all men share the chivalrous instincts of my favourite silver screen heros. You might be wondering how that's working out. It's not. I'll never find anyone if I expect some monumental declaration of love in the airport every time I return from a trip abroad. We don't think it's fair for men to compare us to the women in porn, so why do we compare them to the men in these movies? It might be a little late for a New Years Resolution, but I'm going to make a conscious effort to be realistic in my dealings with the other sex this year. I think the results will probably be better than holding out for Richard Gere in a white limo, blasting opera while holding roses out the sunroof. At the very least I won't be a prostitute. xx.

what if.

What if you already know the person you’re going to marry.  Maybe it’s a casual acquaintance. Someone you just met. Someone you’ve known forever. Maybe it’s a high school classmate. Or the boy whose notes you used to borrow in your first year? The girl next door? Your best guy friend?

I guess it’s easier to imagine if you’re currently in a relationship, but I’ve never been there so it seems as though there’s a world of possibilities. I always imagine myself going to Europe, meeting some charming gentleman and falling in love. On the other hand, I can also see myself marrying my dentist. If I’ve already met my future spouse then what the hell are they doing? What the hell am I doing?

Of course there's always the chance that you'll never marry. That I'll never marry. I don't think I believe in soul mates, fate maybe, but not soul mates. I certainly hope there's more than one chance for that can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff. xx

thought of the day.

I want to kiss boys all the time. It's just the loveliest way to pass the time. xx

he's totally into it.

waiting in vain.

“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.” 
                                                   ― Bob Marley

an open letter to the mystery hottie at work.

warning: stunt hottie was used

Hi,

Let's get serious here. You're a babe. Your winsome smile made me melt. Swoon, even. I would just like to say THANK YOU, for making my day at least twenty times better. You may be one of the hottest guys I have ever seen, my clothes were nearly off by the time your coffee was ready. A grande Americano no room-- sexiest drink order ever, and let me tell you, coffee orders play a pivotal role in my judgement of your sexiness. You look like a movie star, who somehow stumbled into the wrong city. You're so hot that you must certainly be affected by hot guy syndrome, but in my dreams you're oblivious to your good looks, and you're just a humble gentleman looking for the love of his life. Or at least the lust of his life. I'll give you a hint. IT'S ME. The time we shared was brief (I'd like to see you in yours), but I'm hoping my radiant beauty will draw you back. I'd like to thank Howard for forcing us to ask every customer their name, it's creepy-- yet informative. But my internet creeping skills have failed me, alas you retain your mysterious allure. For now. xx

Here's a present!

re: stacks

I think I've been spending too much time in the library. Every time I go up into the North Wing, all I can think about is making out in the stacks. It makes it very difficult to focus on studying. Something about the library just really turns me on. The library and fall. Looking out the library window into the Bowl, which is all autumn-y... well it's just sexy as fuck. Reading is just really doing it for me right now. Whenever I see a boy with a book I can't help but swoon a little.

Don't you want to get to know him? Or take his clothes off?

Great Advice

Major Book Boner

Potential Cause of the Problem

Who's with me? What's your fantasy hook-up spot? Let me know in the comments. Seriously. Do it. xx

I couldn't find the actual song, this will have to do.

the only cure to boys.

I was looking back at some of my old posts, and lemme tell ya, you really learn a lot about yourself by keeping track of every insane thought you ever have. It's sort of theraputic. It's really reassuring to look back and realize that something that seemed like a really big deal hardly matters anymore. And if there's one thing I've learned it's that the only cure to boys is more boys. A new fling just puts a spring in your step, making it way easier to forgot all that old shit from the last lame boy. So get out there. Wink at cute boys, flirt. You don't have to commit, but you never know, you might find one who can keep your attention. xx

Side note: Yes, I admit, I watch PLL on occasion, but it's only because Mr. Fitz is a fox. I acknowledge that it is quite possibly the worst show ever made.

you smell like someone i used to know.

Everyday I have to sit through a 50 minute class, beside a boy who smells like a boy that I once kissed. The boy I once kissed was no one special. It was only one time. But this boy is constantly resurrecting that night. Speak of the devil. He just walked in right now. Sat down. Right beside me. Don't worry, I dimmed the screen way down, and turned it. I'm so covert. But really. It drives me nuts. It's the weirdest feeling. Sort of like deja vu. It makes your mind start racing. And maybe your heart a little bit too. Most of all it makes it really hard to concentrate. I didn't sign up for that shit! I signed up for... Philosophy of Sex...  Maybe the whole situation is bad news. It's not just smells though. I've been having odd instances of taste deja vu. My first good kiss tasted like beer, and somehow I've come to associate the two with one another. That can't be good. And the other day, I had a lemon square that tasted like someone. But, I'm not sure who. I guess it's a gustatory mystery for the time being. xx

an ode to chest hair.

Men: Keep it. Leave it. Don't wax it. Don't shave it. No depilatories. Ok, I know you don't even know what those are. BUT SERIOUSLY. Your man fur is fantastic. It is nice to stroke. You should embrace it. It is the essence of man. Okay, okay, I know I'm getting carried away, but I am concerned about the current state of affairs surrounding mens grooming. It has gone too far. Fight back I say! Retaliate!. Bear your manly chest hair proudly, like these hunks I have included gratuitously. 

Penn is really rocking great casual chest hair here. Shame they make him shave it all off, just because television networks insist on having men play boys.

Jeremy on the other hand is all man. He knows his secret weapon is only two popped buttons away. I didn't even think he was hot until I found this. Now I have no choice.

See how soulful Zach looks? Ladies, don't you just want to lay in bed and stroke his chest, while he reads you Whitman or something?

See boys, chest hair gets you two hot bitches with tits poppin'! Does it get better than that?

Ladies: Agree or disagree? Are you with me, or are you with me? xx

when is it over?

How do you know when it's over? When it's gone? These past few months I have seen a lot of ghosts, and I've been trying to figure out the answer for myself. Once it starts, is it ever gone? Forever? Or is it always a thing, or a thing that used to be a thing? I know you can move on, and get over it, but can you simply get rid of it? Or is everything a forever thing? xx

you said it darla.

fifteen reasons to makeout with someone from glamour.com

1. Because he or she is really hot, and you can forsee telling your friends "Oh, we made out once." with extreme pride.

2. Because the conversation isn't actually that interesting. (Or because it's so interesting that you could just kiss them.)

3. Because they smell really, really good.

4. Because if you wanna know how he loves you so? It's in his kiss.

5. Because you actually believe in your friend's ability to not be weird about it the next day.

More after the jump.

drunk dialing.

A drink or two into the night, and everything seems like a good idea. Stealing umbrellas, sassing cops, kissing strangers who taste like bubble gum...just me? But there is no offence more common than the drunk dial/text. With so many numbers in your phone, and endless options, somehow you will ALWAYS make the absolute worst choice (the same goes for pocket dialing, but that is a completely different phenomena)

1. The guy you are currently into: You've resisted texting him all night, but that third shot of Jose really released all of your inhibitions. So you think of something extra witty to send in an oh-so-cute-and-coy text message. HE ANSWERED. Yes. Continue flirtatious banter in hopes of meeting up later.

2. The guy you were into before the GYACI: So things didn't turn out with GYACI. That's alright, there's always GYWIBGYACI. Now that you think about it, he was pretty hot. And he wasn't that crazy right? Maybe you were quick to judge. Better give him a call, or shoot him a text. See what he's up to. This will clearly turn out well.

3. The guy(s) before the aforementioned guy: This conversation always starts innocent and ends petty. Very petty. Leave the past in the past ladies. Seriously.

4. That guy you were into in High School: This could go one of two ways. You realize that high school was a long fucking time ago, and have no idea why you were ever into said boy. OR you realize he's still just as cute as ever, and reminisce about the good old days.

5. That guy you hooked up with a year ago: While you've got your phone out, better send GYHUWYA a quick text, just to see what's up. He always knows where the good parties are. Bonus points if he just broke up with his gf.

6. The stranger from the bar. This really is the bottom of the barrel. But you just HAVE to make sure he still thinks you're cute. A little harmless flirting can't hurt - chances are he doesn't even know your name. And if you remember correctly he was very good looking, right?

I have been the sender, and recipient of both sorts of messages, and to tell you the truth, I'm pretty sure one party always regrets it in the morning. If not, your luck will surely run out. My official recommendation: If you find yourself tipsy and bored and suspect you might regret hitting the send button, text one of your girlfriends instead, it'll keep your mind and your fingers occupied. xx.

a missed connection.

You: Tall, clever, handsome (but you don't know it, or maybe you do...a little), smart, spontaneous, passionate, intriguing. You like classic rock, the library, camping, ethnic food, dancing, and coffee.

Me: Wild, charming, independent, funny (at least I like to think so),  romantic, opinionated. I like thunderstorms, airports, fishing off the dock, dancing and coffee.

I've been trying to find you for awhile, if you read this, please contact me. xx

just when you thought you had me all figured out.

the chase.

You know what I'm talking about. You're so into it. Until they are. Then you're not. Then they aren't. Then you are. Back and forth. It's all about the chase. I honestly don't know why we fucking bother. How do you know when to surrender? When to meet in the middle? I've been in the position of being the pursued, and let me tell you, it's just not that fun. I pulled away, and quick. It was too much. It was too easy. But after a lot of ignoring on my part, he got the message. Then I was interested. Well, I actually got over that pretty quick, when I realized he was sexy as all hell, but also CRAZY. But who am I to judge, so am I. xx

a triumphant return. sorta...

I don't really know where I've been. I mean, I know where I've been, but I guess I don't really know what I've been doing. I took a break from thinking, I think. Tried to slow down on the crazy. Keep calm, and carry on, if you know what I mean. Maybe it's not so much that I stopped thinking, and more that I started accepting. I've had a couple of conversations recently that sorta made me face some less than ideal truths. My mom said I'm too strong, I scare all the boys away. But I don't think that's the problem. Because the right one for me will like that I'm strong. And I'm glad that I'm strong. It takes a lot to break me, and even then, I'm quite resilient. I think one of the most important things I have realized these past couple years, is that if a guy is interested in you, he'll make it happen. I don't sit around waiting anymore. If he wants me, he wants me. That said, I still expect some common courtesy from the guys I'm involved with. I'm not needy, I'm not clingy. I rarely text, or call, or message. So if I made the effort to contact you, it would be nice if you actually bothered to give me some sort of response. And not a week, month, or year later. I hardly think that's too much too expect. Fuck. I kinda feel like Buffy right now, in the middle of Season Two, when Angel goes all demon on her. Except I'm not a badass slayer, and these guys don't have the lack of a soul to blame.

I wish things would just play out how they do in my mind. xx

lookie lookie what we've got here.

Considering I post my crushes on the internet weekly, I obviously considered the consequences of one of them discovering their presence on my blog. I decided I didn't care. If I like them more than they think I do, then they should be flattered. And for others I hoped it would make them realize I'm not nearly as into them as they think. But first they'd have to figure out which specimen they are. Good luck. xx

dear diary.

I have had a diary since I was approximately six years old. My very first diary contains brief summaries of my day, things like what kind of popsicle I had for lunch, what beanie baby I just bought, or what I did at my Grandma's. I wrote in that same diary for a brief stint when I was about 10. Those entries are about sleepovers, and crushes, and glitter. All of the good stuff. Then I moved to my second and favourite diary. It contains everything from ages 13 through 17. The first part is mainly dedicated to my first big crush. I minute little details about things that happened in gym class and on the playground. What he wore that day. A poem (yeah, I'm a freak, but you knew that.) My fascination with him eventually wore out and I moved on to my next crush. And the next. And the next. You get the idea. There's stories from camp, with girls from all over the world and charts of who liked who in the 8th grade. I didn't write very much in high school, a couple of updates when something big happened. When I turned 18 I decided to start fresh with an adult journal. To remember the excitement of my youth, to have something to show my kids. Just kidding, that diary is so not child friendly. I kind of like to think of this blog as an extension of my journal. And so the tradition continues, I write about the one thing my mind always floats back to. Boys.

I took a really long midnight drive tonight, to sort out my thoughts. I don't think I really came to any conclusions. 

Normally I would be posting the chart for this week, but I think I feel the same as last week, so I'll wait for something interesting to happen. In the meanwhile I'll be keeping an eye out for the next big one. xx

an ode to best friends.

It is one of the blessings of old friends,
that you can afford to be stupid with them.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Here's to my best friends. The one's who are always there. Who endure my crazy rantings, breakdowns, fits and various other hysterics. Who talk me down when I get ridiculous, and talk me up when I get down. Who can gossip until the sun comes up, and still have things to say. To late night dance parties, coffee, thievery, night patrolling and other shenanigans. To countless shopping trips, road trips, and hopefully, eurotrips. Honest to God I would be lost without you. And to my oldest best friend, on her 21st birthday, I hope we have many more adventures to come. You're the ying to my yang, the mac to my cheese, the peanut butter to my jelly. xx




Here's the chart, but seriously, chicks before dicks.