DateMeBecauseYouKnowYouShould

For as long as I can remember, there’s been one thing I’ve been trying to accomplish.
And that…is to date…you.
It doesn’t seem that complicated. But trust me it is.
Just for the simple fact that I’m me.

Then there’s part of me which thinks that you’re just afraid of the commitment that dating is usually related to. Because dating, leads to making out, which leads to sex.
And we all know the big problem that sex leads to…Chlamydia.
But I assure you that I don’t have Chlamydia.
How could I? I’ve never even had a girlfriend. And even if I did, Chlamydia isn’t even that bad compared to what it was before. Or other STDs.
But then it doesn’t matter because I don’t have any, nor do I even want to have sex with you. Why?

Because I like talking to you. And I really don’t think people have conversations during sex. Or would even talk anymore after he gives her Chlamydia.
But again…I don’t have Chlamydia. I like saying Chlamydia.

I also like saying your name. And when you say mine.
Or when you say anything for that matter.
Because any sentence you’ve ever said…is my favorite sentence. Ever.
But sometimes, it feels like all I’m doing is annoying you.
Even though you’ve told me over and over again that I don’t.

So here I am thinking that you would finally fall for me if I did something. Something different. Like writing you short poems on post-it notes and sticking them everywhere around you in an elaborate, yet painfully cliché manner, so that you find one every day so you remember that I never forget about you.
But that wouldn’t really do anything. Because all I can see from here is you analyzing me. Watching every move I make, checking for sincerity and intentions…like I was some sort of dating draft pick.
And you with your clipboard and a team of scientists in lab coats going ”Is he worth it?” with your advisors whispering in your ear.

But let me tell you something.
You. Should totally date…me.
If not just because I put so much effort into writing this, or even reading it right now (which is already a good enough reason if you think about it) but because I think that every guy out there that is not me, is a big doodoo head.
And you not liking me just makes me think I’m unloveable. Which might be true, but how would I know if you haven’t given me a chance to prove you wrong. Which I’m sure I would be able to. Because I’m not a big doodoo head nor do I have Chlamydia. So basically, I’m perfect for you.

And here’s something to think about. Oxytocin, also known as the love hormone, is released after sexual excitement is not only important for pair bonding, increasing trust and reducing fear, increasing empathy, and acting as a natural depressant, it also helps heal and lets you live longer.
So basically, oxytocin turns you into a superhero. Falling in love is like turning into Deadpool. So if you get hurt, maybe you get cut and start bleeding, you should go fall in love with someone, go back to what you were doing before then BOOM! Still bleeding. But you feel amazing after.

What I’m trying to say is…that I don’t want to have sex with you, I don’t want to have Chlamydia, I don’t want to perpetually think I’m annoying you and just look for reassurances, I don’t want you and your friends to just size me up thinking I’m not good enough for you because I think I could be. I just want to date you…and turn into a superhero. And maybe fall in love with you.
So if I ever confess anything to you…please. Just give me a chance.

ArguingWithMandyMooreAndMirriam-Webster

I think I might have a crush on you.
But the whole idea of it got me thinking…

First of all, why do they call it a crush?
By definition, the word crush means “1. To compress with violence, out of natural shape or condition. 2. To break into small pieces. 3. To humiliate or depress completely. Or 4. A song by Mandy Moore from 2001.”
Now 1 seems to be way off track since I don’t want to compress you with violence. I like you. I care about you, so why would I want to compress you in any way? Maybe I’d compress you with a hug, but then that wouldn’t be in any way related to the definition…so never mind.
2 seems to be more fitting of a crush gone wrong when they say you get your heart crushed…but that doesn’t sound right. At least not yet.
3 is something I hope this doesn’t lead to.
So that means 4 is the most appropriate.

Now I’m not a Mandy Moore fan, but it looks like an adolescent pop star is way ahead of the curve as far as defining this entire problem goes. Because I don’t think Mirriam or Webster still get crushes, so how would they be able to properly define it in a dictionary?

To me, a crush is something you’re meant to grow out of.
Either it turns into something more, or you get the 2nd and 3rd definitions.
Or it turns into something more, it doesn’t work out and you still get the 2nd and 3rd definitions…hmmm.

Now if this is what it feels like to be “in love”
I think dying would probably be like a rollercoaster ride.
I mean…wondering if you even know I exist, wondering if you like me back, or sleeping on a bed of nails every night wondering if there’s another guy. If you like me as just a friend, or if I annoy you every time I send you a message or a text…it’s not my thing.

But since I’m already here, I might as well get an answer.
So…will you be my Mandy Moore?
Or will you leave me with 2 and 3?

WhyDoYouNotBelieveYouAreBeautiful?

by henrick sales and marcus lomboy

This is for my friends who thinks scars on the face are ugly.
And for every girl who thinks they are ugly. And for every girl in general.
This is for you.

Putting on make up to make up for your insecurities. So you put on that mask made of mascara and foundation on your face. But we can see it in your eyes, hiding in those shadows. You are beautiful. Even if the foundation of your confidence is built on water and oil.
But we all know oil and water don’t mix so it’s BP’s job to start cleaning off the fish.
Because there’s something fishy going on here.


The only reason people tell you you’re ugly…is for profit.
See, the entire cosmetics industry is built on telling girls they’re ugly.
They tell you you’re not pretty enough…
Not skinny enough…
Not curvy enough….
Or that your eyelashes need to be 120% longer or else you’re not as pretty as you could be. So they advertise their products.
Invading your space with in your face ads like…
“Use this new face cream. Apply to your face every day, twice a day until effects show…or until you’re out of money to buy some more.”
OR
That you eat…so you eat too much. And that your body don’t look right without a flat stomach and Kim Kardashian’s badonkadonk. So you better lose fat, lose weight, and gain a date…before turning eight.

But some conditions may apply.

Even though you’re not really fixing anything.
When you already have everything.

Like how your colored contacts only hide your dark brown eyes when I already swear that the night sky hides inside them every time the sun is out. And your foreign scars look like Japanese calligraphy on skin spelling out imitations of beauty. Or that your highest heels can barely get you past my chin…because the best things can come in the smallest packages. That your fat is just your fitness showing off so that you can be noticed.
Because we love handles!

Because your imperfections make you…you.
And you are beautiful!

Beautiful like how the blind can hear, and how the deaf can see and how the mute can tell you you are beautiful. So listen closely. *sign language*
And I don’t care if you aren’t “perfect”!
Because contrary to popular belief, and something that does give us relief…is that there is more than one type of beauty.
See, we don’t care if you don’t look like a star…because they are not real people. They are fictitious creations molded by directors with their own ideas of what somebody should look like. So girl everywhere believe the lies, because they see it on their TV screens.

That they’re not pretty enough…
Not skinny enough…
Not curvy enough…
Not plastic enough.

Because when being made up is the new trend, even the mannequins are more real than you. But we think it’s time for a change.

So wipe those lies off of your face!
And start eating real food! Forget Barbie ever existed!
And stop that snap, snap, snapping of angles for profile pics. That is NOT you!

Stop letting your worth be dictated by the tags on your clothes. And hiding your soul so we can read you like genetic codes, then we can understand you the way you’re meant to be. Instead of studying your reflection, looking for every imperfection like..

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?
You are.
No, you are.
No. YOU ARE! And don’t let anybody tell you otherwise!

Learn that all of that can only take you so far
Because calling yourself ugly is worse than any scar. It’s skin deep.

And I’d rather have a nine than a ten, because that one flaw is what makes you beautiful when everybody starts looking the same. Be honest…
When every girl on the planet has the same curves…
And the perfect chest-to-ass ratio.
I’d want that one fat chick! That one flat chick! That one small chick! That one tall chick! Who’s beautiful in her own way.

So don’t laugh at me if I tell you that she’s beautiful…
Or she’s beautiful…
Or you’re definitely beautiful.

Because beauty isn’t something that everybody sees. That’s why the most beautiful of girls have the lowest self-esteem.
But to be honest, I think there’s only one word to describe every girl.
One word they all want to be, but they already are they just cannot see that every girl is *beautiful*.