MEMO TO MEN: Baby talk

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: Baby babble<br />DATE: April 19, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdI-Z6NF6NF0GW_SEEAfVCBeHiRdIttRWN7pEX2BBzVG_C_-_9GpCRFvAvbddjEuSqbnSneYfr-iqYIl0bmXfgWd9lrhZrbJ46swj9Ur8t2kPS2_aIntfnyP3I_VwdNggYbB2d3qR7cs/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733146472799079186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdI-Z6NF6NF0GW_SEEAfVCBeHiRdIttRWN7pEX2BBzVG_C_-_9GpCRFvAvbddjEuSqbnSneYfr-iqYIl0bmXfgWd9lrhZrbJ46swj9Ur8t2kPS2_aIntfnyP3I_VwdNggYbB2d3qR7cs/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>Yesterday, boys, I wondered whether society views women and men differently when it comes to wanting children. I'd say it's pretty obvious it does, wouldn't you say? A man who doesn't want kids is sometimes applauded for following his dreams or throwing himself into his career while a woman who makes the same choice is sometimes criticized for going against nature. And, well, I must warn you of the dangers of feeding into these stereotypes, boys. They're rubbish. They're crazy. And frankly, they're downright archaic. <br /><br />Because from one woman to you: A man who is good with children is an extremely attractive man. Even if you don't necessarily want kids of your own, the fact that you're so good with them -- that you can make them laugh, that you aren't afraid to be silly with them, that you know just the trick to get them to eat their peas -- makes you the kind of man I want to be with. When you think about it, you can tell a lot about a man -- about anyone, actually -- by the way he takes care of children. If he's warm and caring and sensitive, you can bet he's going to carry those qualities with him into the other relationships in his life. Some of the men I've admired most in my life, including my father, grandfather and uncles, have adored children, have always known the importance of nurturing children and have never taken that responsibility lightly, whether they themselves were fathers or not. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihY9poALka08WXe0yktvuX8VwFqbUV4NKSheWDpyWH6915RGwMLi2OIdle-u5fekcjTJJSfHwCzfkAMffZfvdECFlqx11PLSiEU4WCuXyba99IiM4cS2MgoQzzbk5Yl99tspRJcjo8g7s/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733146476235110274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihY9poALka08WXe0yktvuX8VwFqbUV4NKSheWDpyWH6915RGwMLi2OIdle-u5fekcjTJJSfHwCzfkAMffZfvdECFlqx11PLSiEU4WCuXyba99IiM4cS2MgoQzzbk5Yl99tspRJcjo8g7s/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>But those who were fathers? They threw themselves into their roles. They loved their children more than anything in this world and relished in watching them grow and learn and thrive. They knew that they were shaping someone's future, and they considered that their greatest job in life. Of course, it's OK if you don't want children. After all, I'm still on the fence myself. But not being good with kids is a definite red flag in my book. The kind of red flag that makes me want to high-tail it in the opposite direction and never, ever look back. Keep that in mind, boys... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thelittleleaf/">thelittleleaf</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Baby talk

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Baby babble DATE: April 19, 2012 Yesterday, boys, I wondered whether society views ...

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MEMO TO MEN: A second chance at prom?

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: The joys of a second prom<br />DATE: April 12, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzKFIArWOrs8NiekbWVQvPhYEr8GKJ54r8FgXX-sJca2VtWFuXccX1WS3yWL1diLqrkvCCqMvc2U09nE7YzdO5RKG6dePi24gBpP4P3LpLXEfCrsK5ASq2Q2ZynRJfEw6wVswLhxW7T4/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730508884503291058" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzKFIArWOrs8NiekbWVQvPhYEr8GKJ54r8FgXX-sJca2VtWFuXccX1WS3yWL1diLqrkvCCqMvc2U09nE7YzdO5RKG6dePi24gBpP4P3LpLXEfCrsK5ASq2Q2ZynRJfEw6wVswLhxW7T4/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a>I'm taking applications for Prom 2.0, boys! The shiny, glitzy and, yes, puffy dresses have been prominently displayed in every store window from Albany to Anchorage - blue, red, pink and orange shimmery gowns of all shapes and sizes.<br /><br />Yes, it's prom season. Can you feel - and smell - the love?<br /><br />I can't. Maybe it's because I never went to my prom.<br /><br />It wasn't because I couldn't find a dress small enough for my tiny body or because I had too many suitors vying for my love and affection.<br /><br />The truth: I had no interest in going at the time. Zero. Zilch. I feared having to take those all-too-awkward, yet obligatory prom photos - you've seem 'em, where the girl with gelled-up hair grins from ear-to-ear as her date can't exactly figure out where to place his hand because, after all, her dad is standing sternly off to the side glaring at said poor helpless boy.<br /><br />I dreaded making awkward small talk in the car as I nervously fiddled with my corsage because now, I was the one who couldn't figure out where to put her hands. But what I feared most was having to dance - yes, awkwardly again - to some Journey power ballad a la "16 Candles." And don't even get me going about the prom after-party at the bowling alley.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxQWk-Ds_PHxOe560BAOZPUPGUiVTy64Oimjic1R_bCnjuK9uy4Xrk2LAhsehK5O4r0uaTGEHtcc9ghzMxwEsZ_w3qY13yPfPpaedOGF_79LpXN-z2QNpfy948x-eokGi6-9L_8FMksU/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730508888685145458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxQWk-Ds_PHxOe560BAOZPUPGUiVTy64Oimjic1R_bCnjuK9uy4Xrk2LAhsehK5O4r0uaTGEHtcc9ghzMxwEsZ_w3qY13yPfPpaedOGF_79LpXN-z2QNpfy948x-eokGi6-9L_8FMksU/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 287px;" /></a>Let's face it: The prom extravaganza stood as a torturous web I didn't have the strength to navigate. But now, some 12 years later, I get a bit misty eyed when I think of what could have been. Where is my corsage? Where is my '80s power ballad?<br /><br />As fate would have it, my cousin, Lindsay, came to my rescue a few years ago. For an entire month, she was in full-on prom mode. She found the perfect dress (a red bejeweled number). She shopped for shoes like Imelda Marcos. I'm sure she even circled April 26 in red pen, a color that matches the dress, of course, on every calendar within a 25-mile radius. The big day.<br /><br />And the best part is that she was gracious enough to let me vicariously have my very own prom experience. I oohed and ahhed at the pictures she sent me of her dress, and for the first time, I felt like that giggly 17-year-old girl again. When she began telling the tale of all the amenities that come with the limo, well, I could scarcely contain myself.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegvudv0P5uHrTDQb9r0YANaHeRAIUzpCH8Ip-ApGdxRk_CN9H93thn-gEASC5Ehr8KQwNqrIiy3YnB1JHw26TS-LOhZycakJpvT97n5jWOHibrrLFlSqf1RalgEmDa2DZBBQD3eckQOs/s1600/aa3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730508882238225666" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegvudv0P5uHrTDQb9r0YANaHeRAIUzpCH8Ip-ApGdxRk_CN9H93thn-gEASC5Ehr8KQwNqrIiy3YnB1JHw26TS-LOhZycakJpvT97n5jWOHibrrLFlSqf1RalgEmDa2DZBBQD3eckQOs/s400/aa3.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>So, with that in mind, boys, here's the deal: I'm surprised no one has ever had a "second" prom. A shameless shindig for those who want to reclaim their youth and their missed opportunities to sip punch and sway to the tunes. Although, now that all of us are a bit older, we may have to do a little tweaking of the classic prom paradigm. I picture something along the lines of a semi-lively bingo tournament complete with rows of sheet cake and glasses of apple juice. We'll laugh, sip, shout "BINGO" and be under our bed covers by 9 p.m. We have to think logical now, you know. We're not getting any younger. And please, no corsages allowed. Our allergies might flare up. xoxo<br /><br /><em><strong>P.S. Don't forget to enter the <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/04/shopbop-100-gift-card-giveaway.html">Shopbop giveaway</a> for your chance to win $100 shopping spree!</strong></em><br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: A second chance at prom?

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: The joys of a second prom DATE: April 12, 2012 I'm taking applications for Prom...

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MEMO TO MEN: Double-edge compliments

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: Compliments! Yikes! <br />DATE: April 4, 2012<br /><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7246/7045059185_e05b0ba86f_z.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7246/7045059185_e05b0ba86f_z.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 573px;" /></a>It should be quite obvious, shouldn't it, boys? A compliment is just that -- a compliment. Neat and obvious. Like a pretty little present in a nice little box tied up with a pretty pink bow. It makes you smile. It gives you those fluttering butterflies in your stomach. It let's you know that someone thinks you're cool enough for a glowing -- and equally cool -- compliment. We all love compliments. They boost our ego. They make us feel like, yes, we're doing something right in this world. <br /><br />And yet..sometimes even the best of the best compliments can enter that murky, uncharted, confusing territory. Sometimes, instead of walking away smiling and feeling like you're on cloud nine, you walk away thinking, "<em>Wait, what was that? Was that a compliment</em>?" I know, I know, boys. I'm sure you don't mean to serve these compliments on a cutting-edged plate, but sometimes, they're just all too bittersweet. On the outside, it's sweet. But on the inside, once you peel away that sweet, delicious layer? You're left with a bitter after taste that you just can't seem to shake. Take these examples, for instance...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyM2en_Qo2cXJrn93Zz4zjuPUKPnfTaFddINqg2h9Cy_NriY2PgOO4UhMKgayydjeX-aCyhyt6s9lH-0y0GwkrKb2CB6DtKtBwxIjatb8jc6DNPZwKhreVehJoEi-ki49dclNtjbwDQA/s1600/03.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727553471017566306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyM2en_Qo2cXJrn93Zz4zjuPUKPnfTaFddINqg2h9Cy_NriY2PgOO4UhMKgayydjeX-aCyhyt6s9lH-0y0GwkrKb2CB6DtKtBwxIjatb8jc6DNPZwKhreVehJoEi-ki49dclNtjbwDQA/s400/03.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 319px;" /></a><strong>You're my best friend</strong><br />This is fine if that's all you want to be -- best friends. But hearing those words when being best friends is the decidedly <em>last thing</em> you want to be can cut like a knife.<br /><br /><strong>You remind me so much of my sister/mother</strong><br />Remember how I was only a few credits shy of a psychology minor in college? Well, that background comes in handy for this back-handed compliment. Freud would have a field day with this one. Sure, maybe you love us like you do your mother or sister, but that leaves me, well, a bit creeped out.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ckupqn043Zh2ERqr56pLAzzvYyuXvD1pxlw65j0KF6wrhKfxx0xj8hAX4lPW78HUzb1CmhNfXh8XvY-zhRVMwl7mfFAB85js_y8DTcYMbwSQy3llnMz3udANub-YTJImZm1_4GKIthQ/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727553485379951042" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ckupqn043Zh2ERqr56pLAzzvYyuXvD1pxlw65j0KF6wrhKfxx0xj8hAX4lPW78HUzb1CmhNfXh8XvY-zhRVMwl7mfFAB85js_y8DTcYMbwSQy3llnMz3udANub-YTJImZm1_4GKIthQ/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>I know it's not just you, boys. Women are guilty of this too. Maybe we're just not aware of what comes out of our mouth and how it's being received. In our minds, it could sound perfectly nice and logical, but the second it leaves our lips, it gets twisted and tangled before falling on the ears of its receiver. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">So, what about when it's not so clear? What happens when the metaphorical compliment line has become so blurred that it's almost rendered invisible? What happens when a compliment just doesn't come off as sincere as the person intended it to be? Can you ever take an awkward situation like that and make it not-so-awkward? xoxo</span><br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Double-edge compliments

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Compliments! Yikes! DATE: April 4, 2012 It should be quite obvious, shouldn't ...

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MEMO TO MEN: The value of honesty

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: The honest truth <br />DATE: March 27, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkoPu6_tenmmdOhAjgOaOZkYCcP3BFJo8psr5ekOZ8ZghOzSIiLqzTTJawzmaUyplO3jTPGL-K3-odMsqgihm_Sz7QC7zibFfyqDVA16sBhy8tScs16StrgLh0QoBB9ch1BguV-WL2hIs/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724667005965993858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkoPu6_tenmmdOhAjgOaOZkYCcP3BFJo8psr5ekOZ8ZghOzSIiLqzTTJawzmaUyplO3jTPGL-K3-odMsqgihm_Sz7QC7zibFfyqDVA16sBhy8tScs16StrgLh0QoBB9ch1BguV-WL2hIs/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" /></a>Boys, every so often when I'm watching TV, someone will say something that just resonates pure truth to me. Take a recent episode of <a href="http://beta.abc.go.com/shows/revenge">Revenge</a>, for example, in which <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/12/man-candy-monday_26.html">this guy</a> utters these words...<br /><br /><em>Whether we're together for a day, a week, a year, 10 years or forever, I'll always be honest with you</em>.<br /><br />Oh, honesty. That little word. It's a pesky little word, isn't it, boys? And yet, it holds so much weight in relationships -- both romantic and platonic. Maybe that's why, then, it's always surprised me when I see basic honesty ranking pretty low on some people's priority list; sometimes, it seems like honesty isn't even valued at all, instead, merely cast aside as if it were yesterday's trend. Dishonesty. It's almost become one of those nasty habits. Sure, it starts out small. Maybe you tell little white lies about what you did with your friends last night. But before you know it, lies are rolling off your tongue so fast and easy that even you're beginning to believe them. It's a scary thought, isn't it? It would be so easy to fall in one fell swoop and fall down the rabbit hole of your lies.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D8lw4ogmo4-2kkGWNvhH1cleIDaJfqyPmkeQD0wE2XBifLsHYx5HmFhGchlmHGJFfdGwhIEUCn6hjtwEeAgGVtSutEoFVg5UQThsu_THHRrxKzMrfNLvVY_XnXPj7EIsc7CpLwbDcR8/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724667004882579906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D8lw4ogmo4-2kkGWNvhH1cleIDaJfqyPmkeQD0wE2XBifLsHYx5HmFhGchlmHGJFfdGwhIEUCn6hjtwEeAgGVtSutEoFVg5UQThsu_THHRrxKzMrfNLvVY_XnXPj7EIsc7CpLwbDcR8/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a>And by being honest, I'm not just talking about honesty when it's convenient for you, boys. I'm talking about full-blown, would-never-dream-of-lying honesty. There's comfort in knowing that at least one person in the world will always be honest with you, isn't there? It makes you feel as though you have someone to walk beside you in this crazy world, where everything can feel so uncertain at time. This can make all the difference in the world. I can guarantee that I will always be honest with you, boys. No matter what. Of all the ingredients for a healthy relationship, honesty takes the cake for me.<br /><br />Because honesty, boys, comes down to a matter of respect. Respect for the other person. Respect for the relationship. And of course, respect for yourself. It means that you value yourself and the other person to <em>want</em> to make things work, to try your best and see where this relationship will take you. And that's the honest truth, boys. What do you think...? xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: The value of honesty

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: The honest truth DATE: March 27, 2012 Boys, every so often when I'm watching TV...

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MEMO TO MEN: The beauty of pain

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: Take off your beauty mask <br />DATE: March 5, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuJvM_xcavHUH7RRaCwSzE7qBctBAy8SNST5FjhEW1DmBobqwVw_mY5bQiQ5dmnrTL93-Yi1rKuLF1PEEAGoU0PWUopNrOAS_VsCJk2uT81WXkLqAPdn2YnjrfY5rNjnK24V4xRhyfT8/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716459853377512530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuJvM_xcavHUH7RRaCwSzE7qBctBAy8SNST5FjhEW1DmBobqwVw_mY5bQiQ5dmnrTL93-Yi1rKuLF1PEEAGoU0PWUopNrOAS_VsCJk2uT81WXkLqAPdn2YnjrfY5rNjnK24V4xRhyfT8/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><span style="font-style:italic;">"Behind every beautiful thing, there's been some kind of pain."</span><br /><br />That's a quote from a Bob Dylan song, boys. Now, don't get me started on how much I can't stand that harmonica-swinging, folksy singer, but that quote? Well, I love it. It's pretty perfect, in fact. And it's something that's been on my mind lately. We can so easily become consumed with just looking <span style="font-style:italic;">at</span> that person that we stop taking the time to look -- really look -- at what's <span style="font-style:italic;">inside</span> of the person standing right in front of us. Not literally inside, of course -- more like taking a closer look beyond the surface. Because I can guarantee you one thing, boys: This is where the story is. The real story, anyway, and when you think about it, the only story that really matters.<br /><br />We're so quick to quiver at the mere mention of the word pain, as if its simple utterance alone has the power to hurt us. We run from it. We hide from it. We do everything in our power to escape from its mighty clutches. But we can't ever escape it -- at least not fully, anyway. And the more we rail against it and the more we shun the pain of others, the uglier we let it become. Take it from me, boys, we earn pain by living. No one who has ever lived has ever been able to go through life unscathed. It's just impossible. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Fuli2kZketDx86mMD7aY3KcGBgaL0ztRZfbqNfnL6_jItBPMboJJbOGEXCQ_YTwRiisHqcNyyVtaNDh-PxwQL4t7NDKpFiWgp6_5Iv6USiE54EOIo9wgI3W07sOPZ5g9C4Hiw2sZKJ0/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716459856040631746" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Fuli2kZketDx86mMD7aY3KcGBgaL0ztRZfbqNfnL6_jItBPMboJJbOGEXCQ_YTwRiisHqcNyyVtaNDh-PxwQL4t7NDKpFiWgp6_5Iv6USiE54EOIo9wgI3W07sOPZ5g9C4Hiw2sZKJ0/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 253px;" /></a>It's sort of like baring our soul to another person, I suppose, this whole pain thing. We're scared, sure, but we trust that the other person isn't as scared as we are. We hope that the other person will want to get to know the pain behind our beauty. Because, really, just like all those wonderful experiences we've had, the not-so-wonderful experiences have their place in our heart too. We'd never want to relive them, of course, but they're a part of us. They've shaped us into the person we've become. Denying that -- or worse, not even acknowledging it -- is the same as not accepting the other person for who they are.<br /><br />All too often, we let ourselves get scared by the littlest imperfections. At the end of the night, when the other person's beauty mask comes off, aren't we just the slightest bit curious to see what lies underneath? I've always thought it was our bruises, not our beauty marks, that made us beautiful. Something tells me I'll always see love that way. Life isn't perfect. But it can be beautiful. Are you in, boys? xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: The beauty of pain

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Take off your beauty mask DATE: March 5, 2012 "Behind every beautiful thing, t...

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MEMO TO MEN: In defense of letting your guard down

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: Looks can be deceiving <br />DATE: February 15, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQVBgXGj_O0-Hr0a6clFUPWMRUz_iQc3BsceiEjffZGNE3haTHr_U68NgJRjE9oUlTFPGa91QaIuWByf8cvFnArjfWYcScFKp3DlXN0KYMNVi9Jbj8CJCqxmgcwP4whOtAB2kGUimpII/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709399055629175346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQVBgXGj_O0-Hr0a6clFUPWMRUz_iQc3BsceiEjffZGNE3haTHr_U68NgJRjE9oUlTFPGa91QaIuWByf8cvFnArjfWYcScFKp3DlXN0KYMNVi9Jbj8CJCqxmgcwP4whOtAB2kGUimpII/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>Everything looks good from the outside, boys. 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.<br /><br />I'm thinking the same logic applies to people, too, and I can't help but question: 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 harder to truly know someone?<br /><br />I'll be the first to admit that years ago -- and especially the first few years after my father's death -- whenever anyone asked the all-too-popular question, "How are you," I'd reply like I usually do.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Oh I'm fine."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"I can't complain."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"I'm good. And you?"</span><br /><br />I'm not really sure if I actually believed it, or if I had just said it so often that I tricked myself into believing I believed it. I got really good at it, though. 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.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXjgNbCcrP9QJcb6G4Di45lUxtsMUzcV3f8R7NHJ449JwFaNoKoYHOx7VagBh00c83PZ_c4RPhiC9AAZq6Tp6x1R5Ssarc7rZlO3jc-B0n-oQbFyjePmrdHUhnBbDYDCW2QQRMEANNYxE/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709399051831701842" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXjgNbCcrP9QJcb6G4Di45lUxtsMUzcV3f8R7NHJ449JwFaNoKoYHOx7VagBh00c83PZ_c4RPhiC9AAZq6Tp6x1R5Ssarc7rZlO3jc-B0n-oQbFyjePmrdHUhnBbDYDCW2QQRMEANNYxE/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 263px;" /></a>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. <br /><br />What would our world look like if, instead of soldiering our emotions, we laid them out. Not because we want sympathy (<span style="font-style:italic;">OK, maybe sometimes we do</span>), but because we can't go through life alone. We need people. No one is an island, contrary to that pesky rumor Simon and Garfunkel started.<br /><br />I challenge you this week, boys, 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<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: In defense of letting your guard down

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Looks can be deceiving DATE: February 15, 2012 Everything looks good from the outsi...

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MEMO TO MEN: Playing the game of love

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: The big game <br />DATE: February 6, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijyUl9jH2J0AA7_O0eeuoI1t-k-t5IEyM_80naEvCDBGKQ27PTTfBU-WqnT0FjmoD-3IiXkKkmI40NXVQXLJ7p9y5clF61L1Jc2RSLOc4Eu2B3yeR7I6jzhxXCQkGuJFzv1tw-wFj3QWU/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706060568948789922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijyUl9jH2J0AA7_O0eeuoI1t-k-t5IEyM_80naEvCDBGKQ27PTTfBU-WqnT0FjmoD-3IiXkKkmI40NXVQXLJ7p9y5clF61L1Jc2RSLOc4Eu2B3yeR7I6jzhxXCQkGuJFzv1tw-wFj3QWU/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>So, boys, as I understand it, there was a pretty important sporting event yesterday. Frankly, I'm not too surprised that I almost missed it. Honestly, I'm not really a sports fan. They've never really been my speed -- all that competition, stress and sweat? Who could possibly stand all that?<br /><br />Well, apparently a large portion of the American population. There are people that live for this day, who hold it in high esteem above all other days. But this year, I thought differently. I wanted to be one with this national pastime; well, OK, that's sort of a lie. I really only wanted to use the Super Bowl as an excuse to eat all that delicious food. And enjoy that food I did, but not before I tuned in to the game just for a few moments -- for good measure, of course. <br /><br />And then I realized something: All this football business is a lot like love. Sometimes eerily similar, actually. Don't believe me, boys? I give the connections between football and the tango of love...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UfJoSg-6S3kG9wZtGP4_2JPUsKtmH61MEcEGD0wcjQKw-8FoqngEBo45VlCCWuG-2SwkmMFJjWWwt7rcssQsgyMkc6la_mcrHF6qJJk9NVSat-f4zTEaBuJHYy7dc6cXGXVMNofOAHE/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706060558934608466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UfJoSg-6S3kG9wZtGP4_2JPUsKtmH61MEcEGD0wcjQKw-8FoqngEBo45VlCCWuG-2SwkmMFJjWWwt7rcssQsgyMkc6la_mcrHF6qJJk9NVSat-f4zTEaBuJHYy7dc6cXGXVMNofOAHE/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">It's all one giant game of chase</span><br />Chasing something. Running from something. Sending mixed signals in an effort to confuse yoir opponent. In football and in love, you want one thing: To win. It's just in football, you want to win by capturing the ball (<span style="font-style:italic;">is that even correct?</span>), and in love, you want to win by capturing someone's heart. But when you think about it, sometimes the chase is half the fun. There's a palpable excitement during the game (<span style="font-style:italic;">both the game of football and the game of love</span>) that can make all the stress and worry wash away, if only for a little while. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">There's so much anticipation leading up to one game</span><br />You create this fantasy in our heads about how wonderful it's going to be. Sometimes that fantasy turns out to be true. Sometimes, well, it doesn't. But no matter the outcome, the power of the fantasy is <span style="font-style:italic;">real</span> -- maybe more real than anything you've ever experienced. You get a thrill just thinking about what it <span style="font-style:italic;">could</span> be like, what the outcome <span style="font-style:italic;">could</span> be, what we <span style="font-style:italic;">could</span> say and how we <span style="font-style:italic;">could</span> feel. It all spins through our head faster than that tiny football can fly through the air. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">There's competition and sizing each other up</span><br />When it comes to love, like in football, we can be vicious. You get jealous and angry and confused and frustrated. Love tirelessly messes with you, and you sometimes start to wonder why you ever started comparing yourself to others in the first place. After all, they seem bigger, stronger, faster and more quick-on-their-feet than you are. But then you realize that you have something they'll never have: The courage to make it all the way to the 50-yard line (<span style="font-style:italic;">again, is that even correct? </span>)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">It drags on for far too long</span><br />Sometimes, like in football, you just can't let you. Just when you think it's over, it pulls you right back in; you even try to avoid it, but sometimes, things just go on and on and on.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgPQlv8UatILYl4DuwZj0-i56S7RTNzkI5fk-ZZEwwS2ABgHt4zXOkV5eAtrhcb1HflzAkLlfEFvXRAnXT7EGp8ufgtKQQT7h1sqhFeDgciNpL0qWWeMrZU5eHcWubaEPCgT9heQTVAI/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706060559037189810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgPQlv8UatILYl4DuwZj0-i56S7RTNzkI5fk-ZZEwwS2ABgHt4zXOkV5eAtrhcb1HflzAkLlfEFvXRAnXT7EGp8ufgtKQQT7h1sqhFeDgciNpL0qWWeMrZU5eHcWubaEPCgT9heQTVAI/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>So, what do you think, boys? I can't help but think I'm on to something here. And who knows...maybe I'll even learn to like football one day... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://dreamyourselfalong.tumblr.com/">Dream Yourself Along Another Day</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Playing the game of love

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: The big game DATE: February 6, 2012 So, boys, as I understand it, there was a prett...

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MEMO TO MEN: Girlfriend vs. girl friend

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: Stuck in the middle with you <br />DATE: January 23, 2012<br /><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7024/6749131489_f14a9fff6a_o.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7024/6749131489_f14a9fff6a_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 413px;" /></a>Do you remember when I shared my <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/01/great-date-debate.html">non-date-I-thought-was-a-date</a> with Cute Guy Friend, boys? Well, I've realized something else: Being stuck in that grey, murky middle with you -- being <em>thisclose</em> to you but still being at a metaphorical distance -- is just plain frustrating.<br /><br />Girlfriend vs. girl friend.<br /><br />It looks like a minute difference, but eventually, that gap between girl and friend becomes wider and wider, and it gets harder to see straight. It's an unspoken yearning more powerful in its silence. The girlfriend get roses. The <br />girl friend helps pick out roses. The girlfriend gets surprise texts at midnight. The girl friend gets texts at midnight asking for girlfriend advice. The girlfriend blushes because she's in love and doesn't have to hide it. The girl friend blushes because she's in love and is trying desperately to hide it.<br /><br />See, being friends with a guy is sort of like having the perfect boyfriend. He listens, gives you the inside scoop on the male mind, is both charming and flirtatious and is always there for you. The only problem: He’s, well, not technically your boyfriend. He’s your boy friend. And when your boy friend has a girlfriend (note: not a girl friend; that’s your role, remember?) and you become the girl friend in the bizarre love-but-it's-not-really-love triangle? It’s hard not to feel just a little pang of heartbreak. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zwU-cYckZB_uOjT_MehmJivH9Wz5rivTUhxU66RjWQZnmKHimjXso_9QwfZoUZL8yBVjztuP4uTbT8W-rqVmzLB9LtXu-PrAzIQGbhMYKR4uXwYq_GOIKZiENPx8RuXOstDwn7XCE-s/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700842043536543538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zwU-cYckZB_uOjT_MehmJivH9Wz5rivTUhxU66RjWQZnmKHimjXso_9QwfZoUZL8yBVjztuP4uTbT8W-rqVmzLB9LtXu-PrAzIQGbhMYKR4uXwYq_GOIKZiENPx8RuXOstDwn7XCE-s/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>But you're his girl friend. You. Must. Remember. That. You must always remember your place and never even think of stepping your toes outside those friend zone boundary lines. If you do, everything will come crashing down in one big mess -- and it won't be of the romantic-comedy variety.<br /><br />Do you see the frustration here, boys? I've been the girl friend a few times in my life. It's not fun. It's not pretty. What's also not pretty? These two little myths we girl friends have faced... <br /> <br /><strong>We love meeting your girlfriend, and of course she’s welcome to join us at the movies (<em>substitute dinner, lunch, etc., or whatever fits your situation</em>)</strong><br />We can take the “How We Met” story once, maybe twice, but that’s the limit. We feign a smile and a nod over salad and champagne as we watch you two hold hands, but inside we’re mentally writing our grocery list, thinking about that work proposal or counting the number of freckles on her forehead. Has she had Botox or <em>work</em> done? You’re so in love. We get it.<br /><br /><strong>We never compare ourselves to your lady love. Why would we be so insecure and shallow?</strong><br />The minute I heard about Cute Guy Friend's girlfriend, I did the only logical thing. I furiously Googled her and looked for her on Facebook. I just had to see this vision of perfection. What color was her hair? Was her skin creamier than mine? I ultimately came up empty-handed. But here's the thing: We do it all in secret -- this whole covert spying operation. If you ever ask us, we remark, “Of course not. What am I? Jealous? Pfft. Someone sure thinks highly of himself, doesn’t he?” <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgIrzfQLoVgevM8ouh-W5d6TIO-dNl9uX-O3W8upfLGWWbCVy1XL9iGtkGWPFmMWbkmCaQogEt9g0yL2a6aA9yiTeljMmzGpyxCYD3YeOhg35wgKzRQokt6iY4qT8vKo2dPFPXQHGddNY/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700842039578351186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgIrzfQLoVgevM8ouh-W5d6TIO-dNl9uX-O3W8upfLGWWbCVy1XL9iGtkGWPFmMWbkmCaQogEt9g0yL2a6aA9yiTeljMmzGpyxCYD3YeOhg35wgKzRQokt6iY4qT8vKo2dPFPXQHGddNY/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>The real truth: Boys, we know you're in love with your lady love. We get it. We know you're so perfect for each other. It's more romantic and sugary sweet than a Disney movie. I'm sure we'll eventually realize that being the girl friend is better than not having you in our lives at all. Until then, though, let's hope we don't end up in a sugar coma from all those perfect love stories. xoxo<br /><br />[Top photo via <a href="http://opposablesums.tumblr.com/post/14852093157/the-friend-zone-an-escape-plan">Opposable Sums</a>, other photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Girlfriend vs. girl friend

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Stuck in the middle with you DATE: January 23, 2012 Do you remember when I shared ...

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MEMO TO MEN: I'm not that innocent

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: My wild, wild, wild side<br />DATE: January 11, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5Pof-F98Ox398vlkm7L9K-8PAIkdJhCb9m-CUE5PVLxM34MK8sFKv2xOzzBvBtxiUBtmw9RpZdMJpX5FNzUvNVBFyMdX0QJd1MepmvvWWcIT76SztfAS-3770Qc-R5KbKJvTE7Ga0G0/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696427662203811490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5Pof-F98Ox398vlkm7L9K-8PAIkdJhCb9m-CUE5PVLxM34MK8sFKv2xOzzBvBtxiUBtmw9RpZdMJpX5FNzUvNVBFyMdX0QJd1MepmvvWWcIT76SztfAS-3770Qc-R5KbKJvTE7Ga0G0/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>By now, boys, I'm sure you think you know everything there is to know about me. In fact, you probably think you've got me all figured out, and have the perfect profile of me sketched in your head. You think I'm a straight-laced, buttoned-up, hair-in-a-bun, Little Miss Perfect who always does the right thing. I would never think of rocking the boat. No, no. Instead, I opt to sit in the boat prim-and-proper like, holding on tightly to that orange life jacket drapped over my shoulders. And then, I cam across this quote...<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"There’s always a wild side to an innocent face."</span> --Unknown<br /><br />That's when it dawned on me: Oh, yes, boys, I do indeed have a wild side. As surprising as that may seem, I've done things and said things that seemingly fly in the face of that angelic image of me you've created in your head. What? You don't believe I've ever walked the tracks of the dark side? Perhaps these brushes with my bad side will change your mind...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYr-DKbrV4MfdvytKkcZ_SMAAlLFzlJZ-3M7IIc2EX9ez9nu2xeWQpdKd-C9YCr2G4YpullZF5Ksn7A15I5H0rbfw6MVKTsUrhDFJ77R3CNqFvearj8AgbWC0TgjRNEy0VMnG5hPiyG4/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696425669178452658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYr-DKbrV4MfdvytKkcZ_SMAAlLFzlJZ-3M7IIc2EX9ez9nu2xeWQpdKd-C9YCr2G4YpullZF5Ksn7A15I5H0rbfw6MVKTsUrhDFJ77R3CNqFvearj8AgbWC0TgjRNEy0VMnG5hPiyG4/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">I once stole a purple crayon</span><br />OK, so it was in the first grade, but that was my first taste of the evil that lurked within me. I saw it just sitting there (<span style="font-style:italic;">the crayon, not my inner evil</span>) on my teacher's desk, all shiny and new, and honestly? Well, I just had to have it. I was practically calling my name, and who was I to deny its wishes? My parents made me return it the next day -- my subconscious probably showed it to them out of guilt -- but I know now that little crayon was the gateway into a world of badness (<span style="font-style:italic;">is that even a word?</span>) that I never even knew existed,<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I wear white after Labor Day</span><br />I know! Scandalous, isn't it? And what's even worse is that I'm not the least bit ashamed of it, either. I wear white shirts and white shorts and white socks and white polo shirts and...well, you get the idea. Let's just say I've never been one to give in to convention -- another sign that I'm a rebel.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I gamble at casinos</span><br />I think my love of casinos is starting to border on an addiction. I love the sound of the slot machines, which is my drug of choice. The way the coins clink when you put them in. The cranking sound as you pull the lever. The chug-chug-chug sound as the screen flashes. Now, I've never won much money, but for me, that's never really mattered. I'm in it for the thrill. Plain and simple. The high is downright amazing, boys.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I drink...root beer</span><br />And lots of it, of course. I can be seen with at least a few a week, and I have no intention of stopping any time soon. Sugar high, be damned!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJ_VP6dG8Ilj9LTMmLxn5bcEkNwo9NK4DZaTVPqNIuR0aAkicTcLRvBw0ULGf0T1DG8tlnSA_3Yp0iAXMSjtApg-3mmwlr42uGIh4CrcZi5bD95SLVxjFIbPttL_UKhhd6lar6TxLdaM/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696425667964996402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJ_VP6dG8Ilj9LTMmLxn5bcEkNwo9NK4DZaTVPqNIuR0aAkicTcLRvBw0ULGf0T1DG8tlnSA_3Yp0iAXMSjtApg-3mmwlr42uGIh4CrcZi5bD95SLVxjFIbPttL_UKhhd6lar6TxLdaM/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 372px;" /></a>So are you convinced? Now, I'll be honest here: I'm not proud of some of these moments. Certainly, they won't qualify for a spot in the Best Of... series of my life, but maybe they were something I needed to get out of my system. It's sort of like how everyone's tried coffee at one time or another in their life. And when you try it, you realize you either like it or you don't. There's no in-between. That, boys, is why there are two types of people in this world: coffee drinkers and non-coffee drinkers. I tried coffee. It was far too bitter for my taste. I think I'll stick with root beer. At least for while. Care to share a can, boys...? xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: I'm not that innocent

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: My wild, wild, wild side DATE: January 11, 2012 By now, boys, I'm sure you think you know ...

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MEMO TO MEN: Flirting with technology

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: I'm a spectacular flirt. Really.<br />DATE: January 4, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK47kov2Ykrd_ULW2rCX_G6eYUwuqXJS319bn_kwsMnlAY3H_DHeogMoZRA_Z8O4Ibpa0DGNLJvYUshdA-G6lrO_-U9O8aw7dWOskavLJY94ICgW4wdz9vqQIlU31L_A3zO-9iMOQSK7U/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693835618426020242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK47kov2Ykrd_ULW2rCX_G6eYUwuqXJS319bn_kwsMnlAY3H_DHeogMoZRA_Z8O4Ibpa0DGNLJvYUshdA-G6lrO_-U9O8aw7dWOskavLJY94ICgW4wdz9vqQIlU31L_A3zO-9iMOQSK7U/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 257px;" /></a>I've realized something, boys (<span style="font-style:italic;">or maybe it's just slapping me over the head once again to remind me...</span>): I'm a pretty, gosh-darn awesome flirt. I'm witty. I'm quick on my feet. I keep you on your toes. I'm good with those sarcastic zingers. <br /><br />There's only one problem. All of that goodness is on paper -- or, I suppose, on the computer screen or Blackberry interface, depending on your level of smartphone smartness. When it comes to emails, Facebook, Twitter, even text messages, I can flirt with the best of them. Now granted, this is only with guys I know, and I'm too scared right now to take my act to those online dating sites as some of you boys have suggested, but it's so easy for my little fingers to type one-liners like it's nobody's business (remember <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Facebook%20Flirt">Facebook Flirt</a>?). <br /><br />But something happens in the transition to real life, and I haven't quite figured it out, boys. I’ve tried to pick it up – this whole art of flirting thing – yet more often than not, the men on the receiving end (OK, and everyone else within earshot probably, too; I’m always honest, remember?) have virtually no idea what I’m doing. Or, if they do, they’re too polite (or scared?) to say anything. Their eyes just glaze over, and I’m pretty sure their reason for slowly inching backwards isn’t because I’ve blinded them with my advanced-level flirting skills.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkemfugE1DJT0qMFXu-hFZiBjY3WhyphenhyphenJ5RijjS7cMYnjeV1HvSYKBCasMU_NyDBSoQAcYDI-NrJKEStYQu6uOGZARp6s0R7DPmpjg-nkA31IJrivjFFBNv3Ig56r80qSJ_va1IM9GnqQ8/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693882609902642018" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkemfugE1DJT0qMFXu-hFZiBjY3WhyphenhyphenJ5RijjS7cMYnjeV1HvSYKBCasMU_NyDBSoQAcYDI-NrJKEStYQu6uOGZARp6s0R7DPmpjg-nkA31IJrivjFFBNv3Ig56r80qSJ_va1IM9GnqQ8/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a>Here’s what happened when I attempted some of the classic, old-school flirting techniques:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Eye Contact</span><br />The old-school flirting experts say this is a trademark move. Spot a guy, hold his gaze, smile coyly and then quickly look away. If pulled off correctly, said guy will take the hint of your subtle invitation, and slowly make his way across the room to you. After a few practices, including sporting different types of smiles, I came to the conclusion that, no, I hadn’t pulled it off correctly. My “guy spy” usually resulted in him walking (OK. Sometimes running) in the other direction. The key, I didn’t know, was to look briefly – any longer makes you look like a stalker. Guys, I apologize if I ever gave you the impression that I was a certifiable stalker. I’m not. Apparently, I just tend to lose track of time easily.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Hearty Laughter & The Hair Flip</span><br />In college, I fell hard for Greg. We worked on the college newspaper together. He was a witty writer with a penchant for sarcastic humor. I’d never been one of those people who laughs loudly in public (I figured my disability drew enough attention my way), but I liked Greg, so I took the opportunity to try the trick I’d seen my female coworkers do; they actually made it look cool, so why not, I thought? Greg and I would talk, he’d sling a sarcastic barb and I’d let it rip like a hyena. Later, I’d casually flip my hair back a la Marcia Brady. Looking back now, I think the whole scenario resembled more of a comedy than a serious drama. For one, my laugh tends to take the turn of a nervous tick when I’m, well, nervous (did I mention I tend to get very nervous around guys I like?). And two, my spine is fused, which makes the whole hair-flipping thing look more like an awkward twitch than a sly move.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Chat Him Up</span><br />This should be the easiest one, right? Sure, if you’re anyone but me. I’m a shy girl, so I don’t exactly have an advantage when it comes to thinking of something witty or at least non-awkward to say to that potential beau. But if my disability has given me one thing – aside from my petite frame – it’s a strong will of sheer determination. If I want something bad enough, I’m going to get it. Yet maybe I should have known that my fierce determination, coupled with my obvious awkwardness, would result in this: I pump myself up to talk to a guy, quickly go from being a Chatty Cathy to a Mumbling, sometimes Manic, Mary. Half the time, I either say the wrong thing, or can’t even remember what I said in the first place.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAcqBiz400boJmKZNh3eYiLdX9qoyA1RlPCmGdnl5TAJeWSkakTdVaTwC6Cg6ZXFRSAd3UR8U0cwc76P-kZ8agNsJypNAU7kxxuyBwlorLrGf80MuN7DW7iN1PIOIZYBVVv4QMud3zhNQ/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693835614710556242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAcqBiz400boJmKZNh3eYiLdX9qoyA1RlPCmGdnl5TAJeWSkakTdVaTwC6Cg6ZXFRSAd3UR8U0cwc76P-kZ8agNsJypNAU7kxxuyBwlorLrGf80MuN7DW7iN1PIOIZYBVVv4QMud3zhNQ/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 294px;" /></a>The verdict, boys, is clear: I should probably stick to virtual flirting for now. At least for awhile. Your phone or computer screen may not be able to handle my witty remarks, though. You've been warned, boys (<span style="font-style:italic;">see, there I am, being my awesome, flirty self</span>)... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Flirting with technology

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: I'm a spectacular flirt. Really. DATE: January 4, 2012 I've realized something, boys ...

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MEMO TO MEN: Your cheating heart

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: How NOT to become Ashton & Demi<br />DATE: December 15, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQSI8CpMocJrEIGABcVv1JQfNnli9CdQdrWLRpWG7bKyBM9mh-HvlL0bzEH6DgoUkp94U7j2jfDigb8EnsEjdKIpVw0RABkRC8_pww_jdoOvqeT8KvyGJLReXkYMzN1yYBmqY8Nq9UZKb/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686461091271308162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQSI8CpMocJrEIGABcVv1JQfNnli9CdQdrWLRpWG7bKyBM9mh-HvlL0bzEH6DgoUkp94U7j2jfDigb8EnsEjdKIpVw0RABkRC8_pww_jdoOvqeT8KvyGJLReXkYMzN1yYBmqY8Nq9UZKb/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a>Cheating. Infidelity. Unfaithful. These are all such taboo words, aren't they? And yet, boys, there's a certain allure to them -- a hint of mystique, if you will. Well, they hold allure at least for some of you. Now, I'm not pointing any fingers here (<span style="font-style:italic;">cough*ASHTON*cough</span>), but this whole cheating, grass-is-always-greener trend has, frankly, over-stayed its welcome. The latest casualty couple: <a href="http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20547430,00.html">Demi Moore</a> and <a href="http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20546665,00.html">Ashton Kutcher</a>. I know, boys. You're probably wondering, "<span style="font-style:italic;">What could I possibly learn from a celebrity IT couple?</span>" One word: Plenty. And of course, you're lucky because I'm here to remind you exactly what lessons you can take away from the demise of this supposedly happy couple...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Don't judge a gentleman by his cover</span><br />I'll admit that this divorce threw me a bit. I mean, it wasn't on par with a Nick/Jessica split, which sent me to bed for a week from shock (<span style="font-style:italic;">just kidding...</span>), but it seemed like they were on the road to wedded bliss rather than the road to splitsville. And Ashton seemed like the perfect gentleman. Apparently, that wasn't true. So, boys, just because you may act like a gentleman and say all the things any fine gentleman would say, don't think we're not going to do a little Intel with our friends to see if you're getting your gentleman on with them too. Consider it standard operating procedure.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The truth will always come out</span><br />You can only keep a secret affair hidden for so long until it becomes, well, decidedly less secret and more public fodder. And technology hasn't helped in the hiding of secrets, either. Might I advise you not to try to deny or excuse your way out of it. It will be easier on everyone if you own up to your actions, trust me. Think about it this way, boys: I've already lost respect for you since I found out about your secret rendezvous...do you really think you can afford to make me lose any more?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Dating younger isn't always better</span><br />If you had asked me a couple of <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/08/open-letter-to-my-fellow-mrs-robinsons.html">years</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/09/open-letter-to-chace-crawford-and-all.html">ago</a>, I would have said that dating a younger guy was hands-down the smartest thing invented since the trapper keeper. They make you laugh (<span style="font-style:italic;">the guy, not the trapper keeper</span>). They remind you to have fun (<span style="font-style:italic;">the guy, not the trapper keeper</span>). And they haven't lived life long enough to become jaded and cynical (<span style="font-style:italic;">the guy, not the trapper keeper</span>). It all seemed so perfect. It was all so alluring. Until you ultimately realize it was none of those things. Instead, you come to (<span style="font-style:italic;">painfully</span>) realize that instead of being fun, he's immature. You realize his ability to make you laugh is merely hiding the fact that he refuses to take anything seriously. And you realize that the fact that he hasn't lived life long enough is actually a pretty bad thing and not nearly as good and refreshing as you thought it was. The differences outweigh the good similarities here, and you'll both end up, well, the next Ashton and Demi.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhvE5B_TarLf4tOil0ifG7oub1IV9iU2tu3Z4WZq5GWAElaEsHCHL2VTQ1hDOHTRiAesXTMW2f9PGdm0cEVzFWkOoMPNmdOMtk7PZEEw12zk4dGGUpLhmiSD8p9b_4H47Xh7mJhttaRpc/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686461086255183346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhvE5B_TarLf4tOil0ifG7oub1IV9iU2tu3Z4WZq5GWAElaEsHCHL2VTQ1hDOHTRiAesXTMW2f9PGdm0cEVzFWkOoMPNmdOMtk7PZEEw12zk4dGGUpLhmiSD8p9b_4H47Xh7mJhttaRpc/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Does this make sense, boys? Anything else you think I missed from this list? Let me know, and remember: Your cheating heart will tell on you... xoxo</span>

MEMO TO MEN: Your cheating heart

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: How NOT to become Ashton & Demi DATE: December 15, 2011 Cheating. Infidelity. Unfaithful. ...

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MEMO TO MEN: Virginity true or false

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: Virginity myths<br />DATE: December 5, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDVh_Fg43LhyphenhyphenDtxTI0X2dCeYJehmnB47vvB60Dmg1mJrZo8can2w5zLLrnlxUPJuRHPnSz3X5t6Ldc-WBkvcfRN-0UHRFQwvaU_CCmX29ALwrlz8mkgsz5puHN-w063APwccZha2ymkaI/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682676546577927922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDVh_Fg43LhyphenhyphenDtxTI0X2dCeYJehmnB47vvB60Dmg1mJrZo8can2w5zLLrnlxUPJuRHPnSz3X5t6Ldc-WBkvcfRN-0UHRFQwvaU_CCmX29ALwrlz8mkgsz5puHN-w063APwccZha2ymkaI/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>Boys, Madonna sang about it. Steve Carell poked fun at it. And there's an alcoholic drink named after it. And yet, I can almost guarantee you that everything you think you know about it is wrong. Completely wrong. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that nearly everything you've ever been told about The Big V is utterly and blatantly false. It's quite sad, really, those myths that tend to take on a life of their own after years of being recounted and recounted. But that's just what they are...myths. And, boys, if I'm sure of anything, it's that myths, like rules, are meant to be broken. So let's crack open this virgin myth nonsense, shall we, boys? I give you the Top 3 Myths About Virgins...<br /><br /><strong>You think your virgin radar is spot-on</strong><br />You think you've got the perfect description of a virgin in your head, don't you? After all, she (<em>or he</em>) is obviously easy to spot. So, who exactly is she, boys? The girl with the big glasses who you see on the train every morning and who has yet to look up from her book? Your prude of a co-worker? I'm sorry to disappoint, boys, but sometimes, virgin-spotting isn't like bird watching where you whip out your binoculars and can easily spot them from hundreds of feet away. It's just not that easy. And contrary to popular belief, we don't wear name tags, either.<br /><br /><strong>We're choosing to be virgins for religious reasons</strong><br />Of course, religion and virginity go hand-in-hand for some people, and I fully respect that. But, that doesn't apply to everyone. It certainly doesn't apply to me. In fact, religion never even factored into my choice. The lesson here, boys: Don't assume you know the reason someone's a virgin. <br /><br /><strong>Women, after a certain age, are ashamed of being a virgin and need help </strong><br />A woman in her early '30s wrote to <a href="http://www.glamour.com/sex-love-life/blogs/smitten/2011/07/help-this-30-year-old-virgin-m.html">Glamour</a> over the summer, wondering if she was too old to be a virgin. I often wonder why that's something women would be ashamed of. Society tells us that if you haven't, umm, taken to the bedroom by a certain age, then there's something wrong with you. But not all women (<span style="font-style:italic;">and especially not this woman</span>) feed into that, boys. Not every woman hide her head in shame at the mere uttering of the word virgin. Some women (<span style="font-style:italic;">especially this woman</span>) are surprisingly comfortable and secure in who they are. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeY_17MDExnAtmM9IE5l8KJYlSDQlt5XVtRJBoQbbVyQ2rceT_ENiYJcNV_7xQ_I5udNqJWvd3HumfW7Hx0ASiA0x6AC68RtWsf2OXkOp0ythh9zXAUblPbGuG-PJBOuiYF2Hpu-aA18z/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682676543667264578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeY_17MDExnAtmM9IE5l8KJYlSDQlt5XVtRJBoQbbVyQ2rceT_ENiYJcNV_7xQ_I5udNqJWvd3HumfW7Hx0ASiA0x6AC68RtWsf2OXkOp0ythh9zXAUblPbGuG-PJBOuiYF2Hpu-aA18z/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>I know you probably think virgins are some crazy creatures, but I assure you that we aren't a species you should live in fear of. We're actually a lot like you, except for, well, the whole between-the-sheets shenanigans. In fact, you probably won't even be able to pick us out of a crowd. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">So what do you think of virgins, boys? Are you intimidated? Confused? Don't care? I'd love to hear your thoughts... xoxo </span><br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Virginity true or false

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Virginity myths DATE: December 5, 2011 Boys, Madonna sang about it. Steve Carell poked fun at ...

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MEMO TO MEN: Assertive women rock!

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: The art of assertiveness<br />DATE: November 29, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzuZpdShm6_GhagziWSt1KmP9_ABsfzfF164QVTALFL2tZFeNFPdLJooC8h3yDQuiFHarBxhIXuulQaCaT3XJ3zk4XNaUqyVKNmYqiqoSdXpfObDJHBZrf2ZulJvZYdbn7cNEtbjwjC6ul/s1600/02.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680465194144080146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzuZpdShm6_GhagziWSt1KmP9_ABsfzfF164QVTALFL2tZFeNFPdLJooC8h3yDQuiFHarBxhIXuulQaCaT3XJ3zk4XNaUqyVKNmYqiqoSdXpfObDJHBZrf2ZulJvZYdbn7cNEtbjwjC6ul/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 269px;" /></a>A male Facebook friend posted this status update yesterday: <em>Guys like girls who are assertive</em>. <br /><br />I sat there for a moment, wondering if this was some sort of trippy, psychedelic, Age-of-Aquarius dream, because honestly, boys, I was a bit worried that this was too good to be true.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfEOl2-G_0hN_Jt_6D1gTB-OHGRynCH5qXIqYE14qtZ77MHdyAlSgZJCHkv0gaKuKD04k1jmtXm9lWdwPokdr90-9Qvf5NQdwwSKILp89voKuAEjMQcMpjCZgI4kdrmHdm-zcyWQIVxm4q/s1600/03.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680465191917961410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfEOl2-G_0hN_Jt_6D1gTB-OHGRynCH5qXIqYE14qtZ77MHdyAlSgZJCHkv0gaKuKD04k1jmtXm9lWdwPokdr90-9Qvf5NQdwwSKILp89voKuAEjMQcMpjCZgI4kdrmHdm-zcyWQIVxm4q/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>And then I realized: It <em>was</em> true! Said male also went on to say that it's actually a turn-off when a woman lacks assertiveness. You have no idea how utterly happy this made me, boys. For so long, women have fallen into believing the evil stereotype that they'll get a "reputation" if they're labeled assertive. A woman can be assertive in every other aspect of her life, but when it comes to love? Well, she must always be the utmost damsel in distress, letting men do all the courting. Now, I'll admit that I may be shy (<em>OK, extremely shy...</em>) when it comes to love, but I sometimes wonder how much of that is my actual personality and how much of it comes from societal influences. Maybe I thought my disability would be enough of an obstacle in the dating world, and to add an assertiveness personality to the mix would just complicate things even further. So maybe I held back, boys. Perhaps I held back a bit too long. After all, I'm slowly starting to realize that I sort of have quite a few years to catch up on. Maybe adding another dash of assertiveness into my bag of tricks wouldn't be such a bad idea. What do you think, boys?<br /><br />But I do wonder: How assertive is too assertive? I still fear the stigma of the Eager Beaver Syndrome -- and yes, I think I've coined that term myself. Does that even exist anymore? Are there certain things you'd prefer women to be the assertive ones in?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKDPMXg6fRu2IWBH_ajwZVvlOSltO7i_BLC2FLHDoUustIwWOJGoXQjLU_4eMw5O_jwJUhARc7Y37AxhWg7q5OJzc1lov0bCAfJDipmrQM5HIo3OJmgx70fMJBDqTrkmd2-wtbJ0ztCoO/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680465197308157778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKDPMXg6fRu2IWBH_ajwZVvlOSltO7i_BLC2FLHDoUustIwWOJGoXQjLU_4eMw5O_jwJUhARc7Y37AxhWg7q5OJzc1lov0bCAfJDipmrQM5HIo3OJmgx70fMJBDqTrkmd2-wtbJ0ztCoO/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 246px;" /></a>In the end, I suppose I should just remind you again, for reinforcement purposes: Assertive women are not creatures to be feared. We're not going to pounce on you like wild lions and tigers and bears (<em>Oh my!</em>) in the jungle. We're more civilized than that; well, I am, at least. Sometimes, we just know exactly what (<em>or who...</em>) we want, and our natural inclination is to go after it. If we're being honest here, wouldn't you do the same thing? You are the ones to do the chasing most of the time, so why not let us take the lead? I do give you one warning, though: I'm pretty adorable when I'm at my most persistent, so I doubt you'll ever be able to put up much of a fight. Are you ready, boys... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.weheartit.com">We Heart It</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Assertive women rock!

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: The art of assertiveness DATE: November 29, 2011 A male Facebook friend posted this status upd...

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MEMO TO MEN: Love in real life

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: Honestly honest honesty<br />DATE: November 21, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cvEIQ92x0xOB_u0xNgiX9UAphgZDJ3mmtsJMRe47PD4Nm4QUb2gjh_Dh_kaqxopyD3vLkU-sFrC5Yfhy62GdeYNbqCit-ur-tgB8E1SMdgGbloJ68iMUQSCL97RoDoHHhgwJBNJayhKF/s1600/03.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677478910093755586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cvEIQ92x0xOB_u0xNgiX9UAphgZDJ3mmtsJMRe47PD4Nm4QUb2gjh_Dh_kaqxopyD3vLkU-sFrC5Yfhy62GdeYNbqCit-ur-tgB8E1SMdgGbloJ68iMUQSCL97RoDoHHhgwJBNJayhKF/s400/03.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" /></a>I like to think I've been nothing if not honest with you, boys. After all, I could have buried in shame the fact that I've never been kissed, never been on a date and never had a boyfriend. But I haven't. Ever. And after all, I could have just deleted a recent comment asking some tough questions. But I didn't. Why? Because I'm a big fan of full disclosure. So let's continue to keep everything out in the open, shall we, boys? I give you my honest answers to some honest questions...<br /><br /><strong>Please inform us on what you base your "opinions" because I truly am curious. Do you get your material from friends...family....tv shows..magazines? </strong><br />Hmmm, material? The last time I checked, I wasn't living under a rock. I get material by just living life; just because I'm not having romantic relationships doesn't mean I'm not inspired by the things around me. <br /><br /><strong>How do you know what questions should be asked in a relationship?</strong><br />Oh, boys...I've obviously had quite a bit of time to think about this one. Whether you've been in a relationship or not, you know some basic things you <span style="font-style:italic;">want</span> in that relationship. Maybe it's almost instinctual on some level. You don't have to put your hand in the fire to know that it's hot. Everyone's set of questions is going to be different, and my set of questions reflects what I'm looking for in a relationship. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgay0P2GBXFHFarpVjfrrTHXgfavtO0MwdDBnXlykrZZ7VBEV4u_YqwBARmevZLwZXG271Y_QGM0NwWgHC1viapdpcRq2gNs6i23KWpQ1RCjGaX1i7XdvCAym8GtApo049D9n4DxCVkAiKW/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677478914834394338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgay0P2GBXFHFarpVjfrrTHXgfavtO0MwdDBnXlykrZZ7VBEV4u_YqwBARmevZLwZXG271Y_QGM0NwWgHC1viapdpcRq2gNs6i23KWpQ1RCjGaX1i7XdvCAym8GtApo049D9n4DxCVkAiKW/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a><strong>How do you know what being in love feels like?</strong><br />OK, so maybe I don't know exactly what it feels like to be <span style="font-style:italic;">in</span> love, but I've mastered the art of loving from afar. In fact, unrequited love and I are practically best friends by now, so I figure that has to count for something. The heart pounding. The feeling of not being able to stop thinking about the other person. The instant smile that crosses your face when you think of said person. The doodles you make in the margins of your notebook, writing Mr. (<em>fill in the blank</em>) over and over again. And besides, being in love is going to feel different from relationship to relationship, and even people in relationships have a hard time describing love. It's not something you feel in words, is it? It's something you feel in your heart.<br /><br /><strong>How do you know what men are thinking?</strong> <br />Oh gosh, that's the million-dollar question, isn't it? I only wish I knew what men were thinking. Wouldn't that be the ultimate super power? If I knew, a lot of my love questions would be answered. I could beat you, boys at your own game. I could get inside your head and mess with you. Oh, the possibilities...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtiBNBYROueG7QoXBSOqBHyWwKqZ_4dSmprsVbLjtUQrBd74cB1A9GKTNv1dg4S25DjliB7Z9fRWbq0tt_nYIkVl9f6fw4MgDkQM4FpTwlFffalLtznrth9_CnDkF634MdrVVjab5ttmV/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677478917351074610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtiBNBYROueG7QoXBSOqBHyWwKqZ_4dSmprsVbLjtUQrBd74cB1A9GKTNv1dg4S25DjliB7Z9fRWbq0tt_nYIkVl9f6fw4MgDkQM4FpTwlFffalLtznrth9_CnDkF634MdrVVjab5ttmV/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" /></a><strong>How do you know what your reactions would be on a date?</strong><br />Who hasn't thought about how they would act on a date? We all fantasize about scenarios - what we'd say, what our date would say, how we'd fill those awkward gaps of silence. And while we don't know exactly what is going to happen on a date, we all have expectations. I'd be lying if I said I had zero expectations. True, it's probably going to be nothing like I've pictured it in my head for all these years, but right now, in 2011, if I were to go on a date, I'm pretty sure I'd act like an awkward fish out of water. And for now, I'm quite comfortable with that.<br /><br />Again, boys, a lot of it is all about what you feel in your heart. Because when you think about it, unlike your mind, your heart will never lie to you. It will never trick you. It will never confuse you. It will always tell you the truth. And so will I, boys... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Love in real life

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Honestly honest honesty DATE: November 21, 2011 I like to think I've been nothing if not h...

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MEMO TO MEN: The curse of nice guys

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: Women love nice guys. Really.<br />DATE: November 7, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4qIe26cOmpPIOsaUzMehUl5Irsb9FcdH1HBD8kXmP3qFYFaTyt-_6FfHWhWg7MnODFblGivaHJWziWH5wdmP8bEWL1T1hSQdHIDddHZSYSqcpmMmaHXTu1Bu_iiqXVa5b54LHLjOTIAN/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672282717349800258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4qIe26cOmpPIOsaUzMehUl5Irsb9FcdH1HBD8kXmP3qFYFaTyt-_6FfHWhWg7MnODFblGivaHJWziWH5wdmP8bEWL1T1hSQdHIDddHZSYSqcpmMmaHXTu1Bu_iiqXVa5b54LHLjOTIAN/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 261px;" /></a>Whether she admits it or not, boys, every girl goes through a bad boy phase. It's just something that inevitably happens, much like teenage acne and the birds and the bees talk in junior high. It's almost as if it's become a rite of passage -- a time-honored tradition that gives you a taste of the dark, wild side. It happened to me in the form of that nude model/lifeguard I ogled from afar that one glorious, unbelievably hot and humid summer. It also happened a few years later in my sophomore English class when I fell for a senior who was on his third or fourth time of taking the class and was being held back from graduation; gosh, I'd never thought underachievement could get any sexier.<br /><br />And so it's during this time that we shun you, nice guys of the world. We avoid you like the plague because to us, you represent everything we don't want: Safety, comfort and stability. We want wild and crazy. We want excitement and sheer unpredictability. We want reckless abandon. We want all of these -- even if it's only from afar, as in my case.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGVY2xjT2B1MNjOKUN1titVdnfRiQy-T9O6dRgkO7vYj3zuKjEo99_elvVi62_Q9liolpvLTlolcnagr2nlRi2I9P8kY45chjXpC36ZWy3n_2sTOByBiXRrMGM9Sugihm3q8eBn1bCg3-/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672282723797793074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGVY2xjT2B1MNjOKUN1titVdnfRiQy-T9O6dRgkO7vYj3zuKjEo99_elvVi62_Q9liolpvLTlolcnagr2nlRi2I9P8kY45chjXpC36ZWy3n_2sTOByBiXRrMGM9Sugihm3q8eBn1bCg3-/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>It's sort of sad when you think about it, isn't it? Nice guys don't get enough credit. Maybe I feel for these nice guys because I know what it's like. I'm the nice girl, a sash I now wear proudly as if I've just won the Miss America pageant (<em>shut up, Anonymous</em>). When did it become such a bad thing to just be nice?<br /><br />Because you know something? The charm and allure of those living-on-the-wild-side wise guys eventually fades into, well, nothingness. All that safety, comfort and security? Those are suddenly the very things you find yourself craving; they're almost impossible to live without. And it's in that moment that we realize it's time nice guys finish first. Because while bad boys will sneak into you bedroom at night, nice guys will bring you hot chicken soup during the day when you're sick. Because while bad boys will do everything to avoid meeting your parents, a nice guy will walk into dinner with a firm handshake, eye contact and a smile. Because while bad boys don't want to grow up or see a need to even look into the future, nice guys do and are. Because while bad boys might be good sprinters, nice guys are in the marathon for the long haul.<br /><br />You can count on one thing, boys; I'll be waiting at that finish line for you.<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.weheartit.com">We Heart It</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: The curse of nice guys

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Women love nice guys. Really. DATE: November 7, 2011 Whether she admits it or not, boys, every...

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MEMO TO MEN: Let's talk R-E-S-P-E-C-T

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: Have some respect<br />DATE: October 31, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFijHgBdsnm0bDMGFpS1oNrH79d2No385KUnsqIXbv2JDI0DUra92mbyG8p_n1dBRGdINONwxXcbT11gRhWFcNVqfOeoWk1EObSYF9PmEppqoENGDZGFkGJBWBVqMAPrUG3KhXf3BQVfyU/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669666721002704898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFijHgBdsnm0bDMGFpS1oNrH79d2No385KUnsqIXbv2JDI0DUra92mbyG8p_n1dBRGdINONwxXcbT11gRhWFcNVqfOeoWk1EObSYF9PmEppqoENGDZGFkGJBWBVqMAPrUG3KhXf3BQVfyU/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><strong><em>"Value yourself enough to choose to be with someone who wants you as much as you want them."</em></strong><br /><br />I came across that quote yesterday, boys, and quickly realized it was the perfect opener for today's lesson. And before you ask, no, this is <em>not</em> about me. I promise.<br /><br />Respect. <br /><br />Everybody wants it and thinks they deserve it. And yet, some are so unwilling to give it in return. And when it comes to respect and relationships, the two are mutually exclusive; you can't have one without the other. I know how difficult it can be to always love yourself. After all, we're our own worst critic, and all it takes is one look in the mirror and we're already rattling off a laundry list of our supposed "shortcomings." <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoXqL-ko7sm6ZszI5X6K2nNYQSsZOsL2WNKskakw9tdRhSO528aprBDlttxBxSaE-B0Zj9Fks8LDandfoMCa8Qp7FUjsN7Y-Jo04j8JS99ntjFMEfYMwDJxH3jP_UNi1qrlMLOYf_ngSM_/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669666713214778978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoXqL-ko7sm6ZszI5X6K2nNYQSsZOsL2WNKskakw9tdRhSO528aprBDlttxBxSaE-B0Zj9Fks8LDandfoMCa8Qp7FUjsN7Y-Jo04j8JS99ntjFMEfYMwDJxH3jP_UNi1qrlMLOYf_ngSM_/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>It saddens me to see that, of course, but what makes me downright sick to my stomach, boys? People who see that vulnerability in other people and pounce on it as if it were their own chew toy to do with it whatever they'd like.<br /><br />In recent months, I've seen this happen, and honestly, it just broken my heart. No, wait, it more than breaks my heart. It disgusts me. How could you ever think so little of someone that you think it would be OK to pretend to care about them? How could you ever think it would be OK to blatantly use someone as if they were your puppet on a string? Well here's a wake-up call, boys: It's <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> OK. Pretending you care about someone just so you can get what you want is about as low as you can go. And not feeling bad about said pretending is stooping even lower. It makes me wonder how in the world you ended up with such a skewed sense of values. Or if you even have any at all.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik8fFuv5JLXQU4C18dCROvrrEh4BG2lvoiLkviI38c2ynKf8ZboRQP2ddJOnpswhtdAA1EJ2jvjoGwj9k1O520VImBsIMs9gMflf0PG__sSLf3HHIpzmIPqJFTqiDoQFjJA8pIfKXS4UJD/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669666709549715074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik8fFuv5JLXQU4C18dCROvrrEh4BG2lvoiLkviI38c2ynKf8ZboRQP2ddJOnpswhtdAA1EJ2jvjoGwj9k1O520VImBsIMs9gMflf0PG__sSLf3HHIpzmIPqJFTqiDoQFjJA8pIfKXS4UJD/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>So I suppose that it should come as no surprise that if, in the very unlikely of circumstances, I should find myself in a "relationship" with one of you, boys, you can be sure I'm going to call you out on it. <br /><br />Because those type of boys? They aren't to be respected. They aren't to be cheered. In my mind, they aren't even to be liked. They are cowards. They are jerks. Everyone deserve more than that. They are worth more than that. <br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://ourstardust.tumblr.com/">Calendar Girl</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Let's talk R-E-S-P-E-C-T

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Have some respect DATE: October 31, 2011 "Value yourself enough to choose to be with some...

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MEMO TO MEN: The vulnerability lesson

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: Go ahead...ask.<br />DATE: October 17, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPufiImhEeKj-q9yRXQ0Dmk-q0VXr5NCzKVM7yK_SqWQ93uFqnIvsKqFlRpekwi_aFlQ22B2PPzDgWvT901b_77Lr3qMtjwD-XN1bvdfqBxpWHp8KG58oVZsiuqBtor3bYaG8_xv4L0PX1/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664458622474592706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPufiImhEeKj-q9yRXQ0Dmk-q0VXr5NCzKVM7yK_SqWQ93uFqnIvsKqFlRpekwi_aFlQ22B2PPzDgWvT901b_77Lr3qMtjwD-XN1bvdfqBxpWHp8KG58oVZsiuqBtor3bYaG8_xv4L0PX1/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a><em>Can I get to know you better?</em><br /><br />It's just 7 words. It's just one question. And it's the chorus to a song by one of my favorite 60s groups <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Turtles">The Turtles</a>. It probably sounds crazy to you, boys, but this is the sexiest pick-up line if you ask me. The hands-down, blows-away-the-competition sexiest. When you think about it, is there really anything more genuine than simply asking someone if you can get to know them? There's something so innocently sexy about that question that would probably make me want to take my heart right off my sleeve and give it to you. <br /><br />Maybe I'm so moved by this question because of the little fence I've noticed building up since my <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/11/national-survivors-of-suicide-day-part.html">father's</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/11/national-survivors-of-suicide-day-part_19.html">death</a>. Granted, it's not a huge wall, but it nonetheless has made me a bit closed off at times, afraid to get close to anyone and even more afraid of getting hurt again. But this question? If you just came up to me, smiled and asked, "<em>Can I get to know you better...</em>?" Something tells me it would tear down that fence just a little bit, as if gently telling me that you're a good guy.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rpa6Usvn9olXk2CblMEnSO390s_v-93IZH4HxptQ419fsu7ec9RkaOOvkYqQhlrmOk35IB6VE3k-cF74OLTg_b7EYfpWg3ojnv5bVEhfBZAOS2VvmZGfYo1XDZHpluyrX20OrmzjibAm/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664458630051718370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rpa6Usvn9olXk2CblMEnSO390s_v-93IZH4HxptQ419fsu7ec9RkaOOvkYqQhlrmOk35IB6VE3k-cF74OLTg_b7EYfpWg3ojnv5bVEhfBZAOS2VvmZGfYo1XDZHpluyrX20OrmzjibAm/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 316px;" /></a>I'm not naïve. I know being vulnerable means taking a leap without knowing where you'll land or even if you're strapped to a parachute. But I'd rather take a leap in the hopes of discovering the real you than resigning myself with being content to hold a stranger's hand for the rest of my life. <br /><br />Because when it comes down to it, boys, I want to get to know the real you too. I don't want to get to know some version you think I want to meet. I don't want to get to know you -- only you and all of you.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmUq4Z7sANiYzel_VrEympHQjlRi5NGWv92FWJSu7a1zlxM6agNP3Slt0vgn0rz-oSz25l0i8m_XhZE1l-hePSeD3oI_q9i3XCAIMFB1nnGyMTpjDQBfYe56UVepxMHDC8J3lCbXgHJ63/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664462319139979874" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmUq4Z7sANiYzel_VrEympHQjlRi5NGWv92FWJSu7a1zlxM6agNP3Slt0vgn0rz-oSz25l0i8m_XhZE1l-hePSeD3oI_q9i3XCAIMFB1nnGyMTpjDQBfYe56UVepxMHDC8J3lCbXgHJ63/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 391px;" /></a><strong>Think about it: What if we were to strip everything away, scratching and unwrapping layer after superficial layer away? What would we see? Would we even be able to recognize ourselves anymore?</strong> <br /><br />So, go ahead and ask me, boys, if you can get to know me better. And what will I say in return?<br /><br />"<em>What do want to know</em>?" xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/12522655">We Heart It</a> and <a href="http://audreyhepburncomplex.tumblr.com/">Audrey Hepburn Complex</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: The vulnerability lesson

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Go ahead...ask. DATE: October 17, 2011 Can I get to know you better? It's just 7 words. It...

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MEMO TO MEN: Don't believe everything you read

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: It's not true.<br />DATE: October 13, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxgnluuRjd4aJcmk2LPiUcxrxq2u9GHMn8hmoZ37MgmkqbzYZWsTWLMLn-p-1DtE_bnfosx43-FN0UwkH4-PhzwRXTIKtnOIjqNmEngRxsHJYo-ahyphenhyphen5tRESKaob8mavcHtlYKMa4DghexP/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663023294245661458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxgnluuRjd4aJcmk2LPiUcxrxq2u9GHMn8hmoZ37MgmkqbzYZWsTWLMLn-p-1DtE_bnfosx43-FN0UwkH4-PhzwRXTIKtnOIjqNmEngRxsHJYo-ahyphenhyphen5tRESKaob8mavcHtlYKMa4DghexP/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>Oh, boys, some people are just so ill-informed, aren't they? It's quite sad, isn't it? It must be so depressing to live in the dark constantly -- and don't forget pathetic. Depressing and pathetic indeed. Well, allow me to rock your world with a bit of truth, to lead you into the light, if you will. Here's a comment a reader left awhile ago...<br /><br /><em>I think deep down you know your disability has and always will play a large part in your life, especially your love life. I know you feel that it shouldn't matter, but it does. The first thing people notice about you is your wheelchair. It is a lot to expect a man to look past it and get to know the "real you." Most men (and women) find it easier to pretend you don't exist. They don't want to deal with it. The odds are against you.</em><br /><br />I know, I know...this could be very tempting to believe. Here it is, after all, a solid reason supporting why you shouldn't try. Why should you even question it? Just go with it, right?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNKamTCS0vPcf5yDfWYpC_P_21cr9WdprgdR8vR4zVT9kBuhYqF15OixtjHWwn8j8S7G2NF4F4SU3QWQgXzgQpuHQsvbzaj2t1UTQGk6Ae4sMZULt1mgZKCftIVNG9lQSnqZLdwPoqKun/s1600/02.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663023286675858290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNKamTCS0vPcf5yDfWYpC_P_21cr9WdprgdR8vR4zVT9kBuhYqF15OixtjHWwn8j8S7G2NF4F4SU3QWQgXzgQpuHQsvbzaj2t1UTQGk6Ae4sMZULt1mgZKCftIVNG9lQSnqZLdwPoqKun/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 258px;" /></a>That mumbo jumbo? It's all wrong. Every last word of it. It's nothing more than a cop-out, a lame excuse to run and look for an out when things get tough. Or maybe you are tempted to not even try in the first place. I'm not sure which one is worse, but both make you look like a sad coward. <br /><br />So how can you try? Check out my lovely cheat sheet, boys...<br /><br /><strong>Say hello</strong><br />It wounds so simple, doesn't? And yet time and time again, this one is so often and easily overlooked. But it works. I promise I'll say hello back.<br /><br /><strong>Crack a joke</strong><br />Need I remind you again how weak in the knees I get over a guy who can make me laugh with wild abandon? If my disability makes you uncomfortable at first, just say something witty or humorous to lighten the mood. I'm figuring that will help both of us relax a bit. <br /><br /><strong>Tell me something interesting about yourself</strong><br />A hobby. A fun fact. The story of the time you climbed on top of your fence to spy on your pretty neighbor only to fall headfirst into a pile of mud. And you never know...I just might tell you a story or two about me. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLLqZ1iUVaMVzog5TV2E6NgCtqAMHF8Ke2vz60-6xmXWs7pHQA9q6XK30_ShY1B-cKFdWnck9dvTTZt0QCJSfRf5bK2JTaum6x7HtARY0fMm6YWkIr7LKZwdOAgFZEsciFAql6jwcUPLI/s1600/03.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663023279419850898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLLqZ1iUVaMVzog5TV2E6NgCtqAMHF8Ke2vz60-6xmXWs7pHQA9q6XK30_ShY1B-cKFdWnck9dvTTZt0QCJSfRf5bK2JTaum6x7HtARY0fMm6YWkIr7LKZwdOAgFZEsciFAql6jwcUPLI/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 271px;" /></a>So today's moral, boys: Don't believe everything you read. Please. I know that sounds weird coming from a writer, but it's true. Don't be fooled by someone's arrogance and ignorance. I know there's more to you than that... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Don't believe everything you read

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: It's not true. DATE: October 13, 2011 Oh, boys, some people are just so ill-informed, aren...

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MEMO TO MEN: The deserve dilemma

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: She's not worthy.<br />DATE: October 6, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jonaupJkoXZ66MUJfwOidK0KOKvxgSu77Ydwl4ITKENq8vM0sfg8aucSh6BZ6asvYHY4ZCMXRgUBNgp1zzqJSuvYlFjjjpumu1tXnjEzgNnytx2MEbc_berdEYOULV53zk9P09XtAH_G/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660464984javascript:void(0)285275602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jonaupJkoXZ66MUJfwOidK0KOKvxgSu77Ydwl4ITKENq8vM0sfg8aucSh6BZ6asvYHY4ZCMXRgUBNgp1zzqJSuvYlFjjjpumu1tXnjEzgNnytx2MEbc_berdEYOULV53zk9P09XtAH_G/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a>An eye-opener today, boys: It's really sad seeing a guy with a girl who completely doesn't deserve him. And what's worse? Not being able to say anything...<br /><br />And why can't you say anything? Because you know the words you say will change things, and it's the kind of change there's no going back from. It would be that sort of irreversible, teeth-clenching, anxiety-producing change that, in the end, you might not have wanted as much as you once thought you did.<br /><br />I've known a few of these boys in my time, and maybe it was my own fault for not saying anything. They didn't look happy. They didn't even look content. In fact, they looked downright miserable...the sort of miserable that paradoxically makes you feel as if you have everything yet nothing all at the same time. You should be happy, right? I mean, think about it: You're in a relationship with, supposedly, a girl who makes your heart go all flippity floppity and who you want to spend all your time with. So why is it that when you're with her, you, well, sort of wish you were anywhere else...in the universe?<br /><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6099/6217764423_938a766e58_o.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6099/6217764423_938a766e58_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 570px;" /></a>Trust me, boys, I've wanted to say something. There's been many a time that I've wanted to shout it from the highest mountain hoping my message would somehow get through to you. But honestly? I've never really known how. Well, not tactfully, anyway. Sure, I could have just blurted it out, but that probably would have only added more problems than solved. And besides, I'm not at all too sure if it's even my place to say anything.<br /><br />So what does all this mean? If it's not the kind of relationship that makes you want to break out in song and wave your jazz hands and shout it from a hilltop a la the opening scene in the sound of Music, then you know what, boys? That girl just doesn't deserve you. It's as simple as that.<br /><br />I often wonder why you sometimes constantly choose girls who are completely wrong for you. Is it because you really and truly don't see how wrong said girl is for you? Is it that she's put some sort of spell on you with her beauty? Or maybe you're just as confused as I am?<br /><br />Take it from me, then: There are millions of other, more-deserving fish out there. Fish that are going to blow those undeserving fish out of the water. So tell me, boys, are you game?<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com">Le Love</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: The deserve dilemma

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: She's not worthy. DATE: October 6, 2011 An eye-opener today, boys: It's really sad see...

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MEMO TO MEN: The "L" word

TO: Men all over the planet <br />FROM: Melissa <br />RE: Three magic words. <br />DATE: September 29, 2011<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRptHT7PigwqZ4GFEFJ3-7bEBGcA1qKLFkwoJH1fAAScw2G9assVJxLAVHfFLCHHOH0rThbdp4si7j73IAKVPT5_tj214r9GnktJIKTRL_XXiOsLxsSfsOK_blkLh8cRc0NrZOHgzAPSr/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657826746468461138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRptHT7PigwqZ4GFEFJ3-7bEBGcA1qKLFkwoJH1fAAScw2G9assVJxLAVHfFLCHHOH0rThbdp4si7j73IAKVPT5_tj214r9GnktJIKTRL_XXiOsLxsSfsOK_blkLh8cRc0NrZOHgzAPSr/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>Boys, you're about to witness to a very historic moment today. A day that, quite honestly, I never thought would come sometimes. A day I thought was out of the realm of all possibilities. A day that I thought had as much chance of happening as my going an entire day without doing something completely and utterly awkward.<br /><br />But, boys, the day has arrived. There's no point of postponing the inevitable, so I'll just come right out and say it. Alright, here it goes...<br /><br /><em>I. Am. Humbled.</em><br /><br />Yes, you read that correctly. I've been humbled...something in this wide, expansive cosmos has caused me to jump back in amazement and awe. You, the majority of you boys, say "<em>I love you</em>" first in relationships. According to a <a href="http://www.suntimes.com/lifestyles/berman/5056290-452/men-often-the-first-to-utter-i-love-you.html">study</a>, two-thirds of couples report that the guy gushed "<em>I love you"</em> first. Now, granted, I don't have any stats from years past for comparable purposes, but this seems pretty spectacular to me, don't you think? <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVA3jSyJrinZgTMBNPFpdJ_pCVVeBV8oggftQvGbV1KyGroNm6A7Y_apsPoER8VirQSlhmRzqdF5-rn_HXGw6B7j_GdbUfpBwu-P_K2Vaq2PWWYNvZ21Eyt9G__u-K4CdboXsK5tmkYJ3/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657829437922617906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVA3jSyJrinZgTMBNPFpdJ_pCVVeBV8oggftQvGbV1KyGroNm6A7Y_apsPoER8VirQSlhmRzqdF5-rn_HXGw6B7j_GdbUfpBwu-P_K2Vaq2PWWYNvZ21Eyt9G__u-K4CdboXsK5tmkYJ3/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>So this has me wondering: What pushes you over the edge into I-want-to-say-I-love-you territory? Is it the stars of <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/09/love-lounge-do-you-believe-in-fate.html">fate</a> that are aligning so well? Are you just tired of being single? And what happens if I don't return the lovely gesture? I don't want to say "<em>I love you</em>" because I feel like I have to, and you know very well that I'm not going to say it if I don't damn well mean it.<br /><br />But just to play Devil's Advocate here: Is there a reason women are hesitant to be the first ones to drop the "L" bomb? Do we view a man saying "<em>I love you</em>" differently than we view a woman saying the same three words? Women are seen as needy and vulnerable when they put their feelings on their sleeves, so maybe women aren't as quick to throw those words around so quickly. Men, on the other hand, are seen as feeling and sensitive when they express their feelings, so maybe they feel a bit more comfortable being the first to say it. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsUeL0AkPm_waReFcmVNLqK1rqLVOpbsrBLWMN3BIiHEtm8U0hx4QOn3miKLUOm6qq2MjE4GP8hyjhuAH2Tz-oC7Lmy8FRhHKFZXBCZlmkOYvwYojn3vpl1xvnZRo_PWWNeeOcS5fLx_c/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657832480269972930" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsUeL0AkPm_waReFcmVNLqK1rqLVOpbsrBLWMN3BIiHEtm8U0hx4QOn3miKLUOm6qq2MjE4GP8hyjhuAH2Tz-oC7Lmy8FRhHKFZXBCZlmkOYvwYojn3vpl1xvnZRo_PWWNeeOcS5fLx_c/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>So is there really a stigma attached to who utters those three fateful words first, boys? Do you have any stories to share? I'd love to hear! xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.weheartit.com">We Heart It</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: The "L" word

TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Three magic words. DATE: September 29, 2011 Boys, you're about to witness to a very histor...

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