True Life: I Don’t Get the Dating Game.

Our generation is obsessed with games. Whether it’s Madden, Call of Duty, Pokemon, or even Candy Crush – you will hear one person talking about one game or another. Maybe it’s our desire to compete. Maybe it’s an everlasting thirst for success. And really, who doesn’t like winning? All I know is, I can’t stop hearing about the games people love to play. Some of them, I understand. There’s points and a method of winning. Others baffle me entirely. And then there’s some that I just think are entirely stupid. For example – the dating game.

I have never been one for the dating game. Then again, I might be oblivious to the rules. I have no idea how to flirt, usually – there are times when I’m being blatant and aggressive though, and there are also times where I flirt without knowing it. The latter is probably the worst thing ever, because it usually happens with straight boys and it’s really not them I’m disinterested in, it’s just their penis. But yeah, flirting is hard. I also have a hard time understanding whether someone is interested in me or not. It usually takes at least 3 other people’s opinions before I’m like “Oh, that was flirting! Okay!” I’m also really good at embarrassing myself in front of a girl I like, and once that happens, well…it’s really all downhill from there.

Sometimes, you get tangled up in that “you talk first” game. You know the one – you want to talk to this girl, but you want her to text you first, so you know that she’s into you. When you’re playing this game as a lesbian, you’re into some dangerous territory. She could be playing the same game on the other side of the phone line. Or, she could just be disinterested. It’s a really tough gamble, but someone has to take the plunge eventually. Or you’ll just stop talking all-together, because no one initiated conversation. That shit is entirely annoying. If you want to talk to me, fucking talk to me. If you don’t, then don’t! It’s too simple, really. I don’t understand why other people don’t work this way. It especially confuses me after someone else is the one who initiated things, and once I’ve come to my senses…she’s ignoring me. Like…what? Okay. Thank you for that whiplash.

Then, there’s that whole “playing hard to get” bullshit. What the hell is that? I understand the concept of wanting what you can’t have. Really, I do. But I’m almost 21 years old. I’m a grown woman, god damnit. I do not have the time to waste on you pretending you’re disinterested just to get in my pants. Literally, all you have to do is say “You can have me naked if you want” and I will gladly get you naked. What is so hard about that? Why is it so difficult for people to be straight forward? Am I the only one who has zero patience when it comes to this shit? I mean, really – if you’re trying to get down to business, and you’re pretty sure the other person wants it too, you should just go for it. There’s no sense in beating around the bush. That’s a waste of everyone’s time, and at this point in life, you shouldn’t be doing that. You should be seizing every opportunity that life throws at you. 

Obviously, there can be issues with communicating interest. You don’t want to be the first person to say something, whether it’s “Hey I’m into you” or “Yeah, no, I’m not feeling it”. Or, you could be an asshole and say nothing at all. Nobody likes rejection – that shit is painful and hard to deal with. But, at the same time, you need to think logically. There are approximately 7 billion people on this planet, right? But like…the solar system does not revolve around this one person. Yeah, being told “no” is one of the worst feelings. But a simple “no” from one person can open the door to dozens of other people. You just need to keep your eyes open and keep moving forward.

Of course, there comes a time when many a lesser mortal loses patience and just gives up. While I try not to have that outlook, it happens. It usually occurs after one too many ignored texts, or being told “no” when I ask to hang, more often than being told “yes”. It’s disheartening, because maybe you got a little too attached. Maybe when she said to make her something, you actually did, and you’re sad she’ll never come over to get it. Maybe you put it all out there, and she just ignored your text until three days later. When it comes down to it, you can’t force your feelings onto someone else. The only actions you have control over are your own. Maybe they were truly disinterested, and they played you a little too hard. If that’s the case, that bitch can go screw.

Maybe I’m one of those weird girls who is too blunt. One of those girls who wears her heart on her sleeve, and speaks her mind far too often to keep others comfortable. Maybe it’d just be easier to play the game, and then maybe I’d find someone worthwhile. But fuck that shit. I don’t have time to pretend to be someone I’m not. I hate waiting for someone to text me first when all I want to do is talk to them. So I’ll talk to them, and then feel like an asshole when the conversation is painfully staggered or if they ignore me. If I think a girl is beautiful, I’ll let her know. If I want to sleep with her, I’ll let her know – at a socially acceptable point. If I want to kiss someone, I’ll get their consent first, and hopefully I won’t lose my heart to their lips. 

I hate the feeling I get when all evidence points to someone losing interest in me. Was I a bad kisser? Do I smell? Am I unappealing? Did I say something wrong? These questions plague me more frequently than I’d like. But I have evidence to the contrary. I have been told by many that I’m appealing, and beautiful, and sensational. I’ve been told I’m well-spoken, and hilariously funny, and that my realness is refreshing and that there should be more women like me. I take this evidence, and I look back at the questions, and I realize that I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Whether a girl has a killer smile, the most kissable lips, or the most enchanting gaze – she’s gonna play the game if you want her to or not. All I can do is advertise that I’m not down for games. I’m here for something simple, and something real. I don’t need to stress out over when it’s appropriate to text you, or whether or not I shouldn’t call you gorgeous when I think you are. I’ll be real with you, and do the same for me. In fact, if you ask, I’ll be real with you right now. It only takes 20 seconds of insane courage to accomplish something amazing.

An Open Letter to Bullies.

Hey there, assholes.

So, you and I have never, ever, ever gotten along. From Pre-K through high school, you were the bane of my existence. You crippled me into a shell of a human being, made me hate every single day I had to see your face, so much so that I’d stop going to school just to avoid you. I figured that at some point, I would find a place where I belonged. A safe space, where no one would treat me as anything less than human. I longed to feel accepted and wanted, after constantly being denied that. Whether it was someone passing around a petition trying to get me booted from my hometown’s school system, or one of my “best friends” saying that everyone moved on without me while I was in an abusive relationship and I should stop trying to be their friend, I just couldn’t win.

By the time I was set to graduate high school, I figured I’d be done with you forever. I thought that the bullying stopped once I crossed the podium. Fun fact – it didn’t. The summer after graduation was one of the worst transition periods of my life. I was a mess, and not a single one of you cared. You just kept going. I couldn’t help but feel betrayed as time went on. Because really, at that point, nothing made me happier than to hear that the people who I thought were my friends were actually the ones talking about me behind my back. For fun. 

So, I hid away for a couple of years, did my solo time at community college, and cut off ties with about 75% of my high school’s population. I did everything I could to distract myself from the real world, knowing that once I’d done my time, I would find the place where I belonged. Once I finally figured out how gay I really was and got to “real” college, I thought things would change. This is the land of adults, right? This is a place where it’s a safe space for everybody, and there’s a super inclusive LGBTQ community, and I’d fit right in! It didn’t matter that I’d just been through the worst break up of my life! 

Again, I was wrong.

These past few months at university have been enlightening, to say the least. I thought that college was about growing, and finding yourself, and accepting others for who they are along the way. I branched out and found my own group of friends, and finally figured out what it felt like to be appreciated. I’m in a sorority for christ’s sake, and I only had two female friends in high school because girls didn’t like me. I thought things had turned around. I didn’t realize that, at “real” college, friendship was as conditional as it was in high school. I was mistaken in thinking that you could hide from the pain that a second abusive relationship could cause you. Instead, you get barred from “inclusive safe spaces” and are abandoned by friends who said from the get-go “You need friends here, and I’m gonna be that friend for you!” I didn’t think I’d have to deal with strangers saying I’m ruining their lives (when I don’t even know who they are), and random people stealing my favorite articles of clothing just to hurt me.

I came to this school hoping for a fresh start. Yes, I probably came here for the wrong reasons, but in coming here, I have developed some of the best relationships of my life. I have met people who have impacted me more deeply, and have given me amazing support – support I didn’t think other people were capable of giving. I have finally found a group of people who I love and cherish as if they were my family – and I am sitting here today, questioning whether or not I should give it all up, because of you.

I don’t understand why you do the cruel things you do. I didn’t understand it in kindergarten when you wouldn’t play with me. I didn’t understand it in second grade when you pushed me so hard into a desk I got the wind knocked out of me. I didn’t understand it when you threw a football at my face because you thought it was ugly, or when you asked me out on a dare and then told me no one would be stupid enough to date me, or when you called me a slut for losing my virginity far too early, or when you’d talk about me at cast parties after I’d left. I couldn’t wrap my head around any of it then. I still can’t, to this day, while I sit here crying over the loss of my favorite sweatshirt that my sister gave to me.

I never asked for a single thing that you’ve done to me. Realistically speaking, I just want you to leave me alone. All you’ve done is filled my life with stress, and drama, and mental illnesses, and the constant feeling that I’ll never be good enough. You are the reason why I never believe a single person when they tell me I’m beautiful, or talented, or smart, or funny. You are the reason why I would rather spend my days in bed, because I don’t want to run the risk of running into you and having yet another panic attack over your presence. 

I am done with the pain. I am done with the heartbreak. I am done with the anxiety, the depression, and the dysmorphia you have caused me. I am so sick and tired of the power you think you hold over me, when really, you’re just a cruel, bitter child. There is no point in holding others down, and yet you insist on doing so even now, when we’re supposed to be turning into the adults that society needs us to be. How dare you think you’re better than I am, when we are nothing more than a combination of elements with cognitive thought processes. We are built of the same things. So climb off your high horse, pull your head out of your ass, and realize that this elitist bullshit is the reason why we have a 1% in this country. This bullshit is the reason why people are constantly scared to do anything outside of their comfort zone. 

Please, for the love of all that is good – stop. It is time to let go of whatever bullshit superiority complex you’re holding onto, and accept the fact that you can’t treat people this way. You don’t have to be best friends with everyone – you just can’t treat everyone like shit as well. Learn politeness. Learn that your actions have consequences. Learn that you aren’t always right. Lord knows that I’m not either, but come on. Quit being a dick.

Oh, and I want my fucking sweatshirt back.

Yours,
Jayanne

An Open Letter To Bass-Ackward Kansas.

Dear Kansas, 

What the actual hell. I’ve never really heard of a state and immediately cringed in disgust, but then I heard of you. More specifically, I heard of that law you’re trying to pass. Y’know, the one where you’re trying to make it legal for a business to deny homosexual couples service based on your religious beliefs? And even people working for the state can deny gay customers service because of their religion? Yeah. That shit ain’t cute. That shit’s downright discriminatory.

Now, listen. I get that you love your big book, and that’s totally fine. Yeah, I’m an atheist, but am I gonna deny you service just because you’re a religious zealot? No. You’d probably call the cops on me in an instant. But that’s besides the point. You need to understand that my (hypothetical) partner and I, in no way, affect your religious convictions. Well, at least, we shouldn’t. If you’re a Christian, I do believe you’re supposed to “love thy neighbor as thyself, and there is no greater commandment than this”. That’s what Mark 12:31 says. Also, if I’m not mistaken, the First Constitutional Amendment states that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…” I’m just saying – you might want to double check your facts and look at the two defining documents of your belief systems.

It’s not just you, Kansas. Even the United States, with all our freedoms and abilities, is a bit of a hypocrite. How can we mock Russia for their anti-LGBT laws, when we ourselves aren’t even halfway towards equal rights in every state. There are still 29 states where you can be fired for being gay. Of course, you’re one of them, K-Dawg. You’re just rolling in that inequality. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to LGBT issues in America. Why are trans*-identified people constantly kicked out of their homes and abused, simply because their genetic make-up didn’t get the hint about their correct gender? Why are gay men still not allowed to give blood, simply due to their sexual preference? 

While I can’t place the full blame on you, Kansas, I’ve got to say – I’m pretty disgusted with your potential law, the politicians who’re moving it through the state government, and even the people who voted those politicians into power. You are the people who are on the wrong side of history. You are discriminating against love, against a man or woman’s pursuit of happiness, which is a constitutional right. By refusing service to these people, you allow for more toxic hate to fill this world. You ignore the basis of what this country was built on – that church and state should be two separate entities that shouldn’t affect each other. You ignore the basis for your Christian religion – that you should love the people around you, and not judge them, as God is the only one who can do so. You ignore the factual evidence that proves that homosexuality is not a choice, that we are actually born this way, that we do not choose to be tormented and bullied and belittled by people like you. Why would anyone choose a life of pain, of segregation, of less-than-human treatment?

Now, before I leave you and hope that you learn from this shameful bullshit, I have some solid advice for you. It was advice that I once shared with my old friend Colleen, that almost got me detention with my history teacher, until he read my note and laughed. This is what that note said:
“Religion is like a penis. It’s nice that you have one and all, but don’t whip it out in public, and don’t shove it down my throat.”

And with that, Kansas, I ask that you please get your head out of your ass and stop being a backwards idiot.

Sincerely yours,

Jayanne

A V-Day Guide for All The Single Ladies! (All the Single Ladies)

Valentine’s Day. V-Day, Galentine’s Day, Single Awareness Day – whatever you call it, it’s looming around the corner. To those of you who have a significant other to celebrate with, congratulations. I hope your day is magical and filled with love and sunshine and lots of great sex. (Ladies, if it’s not – call me.) However, this blog is not for you twitter-pated fools. This blog is for my fellow single ladies.

Now, ladies. I understand that this impending holiday might possibly be the worst of the year for some of you. I know this year, it’s going to be particularly rough for me. I’m a sucker for romance, and I whip out my A-game on Valentine’s Day. Flowers, cute handmade gifts, love letters, and sex for hours. I would’ve loved for nothing more than to have been curled up with a special someone, watching Moulin Rouge and singing along and acting like a dopey lovestruck child. I will not be doing this. Instead, I’ll be out, gettin’ my drank on and hoping that some beautiful woman will take pity on me and distract me with kisses. (Realistically, my chances of that happening are quite slim.)

However, for those of us who are dreading how single we’ll be this coming V-Day, there is still hope. First and foremost, we have each other. If you’ve got a group of friends who also happen to be single ladies (or single fellas, whichever works for you), gather them together and plan on spending the evening with each other. Whether that’s going out to the bars, staying in and eating chocolate mug cake, or going to your college’s production of The Vagina Monologues – which, by the way, is at Bowker Auditorium at UMass at 7pm this Friday and Saturday, and 3pm on Sunday – you need to make your own fun. Yes, the sight of happy couples may be revolting. But you also need to realize that your singleness, in no way, impacts the couples around you. 

If you’re a lone single lady in a herd of couples, this advice may be screaming in your face. You may be entirely aware of how difficult it is to stay happy, when you’re surrounded by love and you feel as though you’re getting none. On this Valentine’s Day, I charge you with the task of being your own girlfriend. You’ve always wanted to go to that cute little pasta place downtown? See if they’ve got a table for one available. You wanna take a nice bubble bath, with candles, and soothing music? Break out the bath bomb, and get all splish-splashy. Feeling in the mood to be seduced? You’ve got a couple options for this, my darling, and I highly recommend looking into each and every one of them. Take control of your Valentine’s Day, and make it the best possible night for you. And if one of your couple-friends asks you to play chauffeur to them all night, you should prooobably tell them you have a date. Don’t tell them who with – just don’t put yourself in a place where you’ll be hating your life all night.

For those of us fresh out of relationships, this holiday might sting a little more than usual. There may be a little more wine involved, and if left unchecked, that wine might lead to a heavy amount of regret in the morning. My advice to you, dear ladies, is simply this – do NOT talk to your ex on Valentine’s Day. That might be the most stupid thing you could do. It doesn’t matter why you were broken up with, or if you were the one who did the breaking up. It does not matter if they miss you, or if they really regret how things ended, or if they just want to tell you they love you one more time. If you still have feelings for your ex, it’s going to be damn hard not to talk to them. But you need to remember that they’re an ex for a reason. Things ended, and you can’t take that back. There could be a small chance that your ex is honest in their intentions, and does want to make things right by you. Valentine’s Day is NOT the day to do it. If that’s what they really want, they can wait until later.

If, for any reason, you find yourself feeling low on this coming Valentine’s Day, recognize the positives in the situation. Firstly, it’s only one day of the year. Yes, they’ve been building up to it since New Year’s Day, and I’ve personally seen enough Valentine’s Cards to never want to see another again, but once February 15th hits, it’s all over. The next silver lining is that you can go to whatever store you want and get all that love-themed candy for up to 75% off on the 15th. That allows you to get three times the chocolate for the same price, and I don’t know about you, but that’s an offer that I probably won’t be refusing. A third thing to look forward to is that while you may be single this year on Valentine’s Day, this won’t be the case forever. There will be someone who wants to spend every Valentine’s Day with you, but they just haven’t figured it out yet. Give ‘em a year to catch up, and who knows, maybe next year YOU’LL be getting the beautiful bouquet of roses instead of giving them. Chins up, ladies, and remember – you are composed of the same elements that diamonds and stars are made of. You deserve someone who’ll shower you in the former, and praise you as though you’re the latter. Refuse to settle for anything less.

Glitter and be Gay: How Sorority Life has Helped me Thoroughly Embrace my Femme Identity

I have always been a feminine woman. As a child, I longed for a castle in the clouds, and a chariot drawn by unicorns to take me to school. (Instead, I had my dad’s stinky bait truck…still waiting on an upgrade.) I loved any and all excuses to dress up – went to prom three times in high school, and loved every second of it – and as time has gone on, my make-up collection has grown to weigh about the same as a small child. You may find it excessive. I think it’s normal.

However, there have been times when I’ve found it easier to blend in rather than stand out. I’d rock sweats and glasses instead of heels and a skirt. I would hide myself beneath layers of clothing, sheathing myself in comfort to avoid everything life wanted to throw at me. And honestly, those days are always necessary, and for me, those days were a constant. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, because I didn’t like what I saw. Whether that was due to my own thoughts, or the thoughts of my peers…well that really depended on the day. 

I, as a femme lesbian, face a bit of a struggle. Sure, it might not be the biggest struggle in the world, but it’s a pain in the ass. If and when I dress up, I lose my identity as a lesbian, and become the stuff that boy’s wet dreams are made of. That is not my intention when I dress to the nines – I’m dressing up for myself, as I think I look damn sexy, and I’m also dressing up in the hopes of attracting a gorgeous woman’s attention. But no, now I’m blending in in all the wrong ways. This is one of my biggest pet peeves, as I shouldn’t have to loathe the thing that once made me happiest. I should be able to embrace my femininity, in whatever way I choose.

In coming to “real” college, I was starting to lose touch with my femininity. My make-up went untouched, more days than not. Jeans and t-shirts were my daily wardrobe, and I’d throw on a SnapBack so I wouldn’t have to style my hair. I had given up on my femininity. 

And then, I joined my sorority.

The minute I received my bid, it was like I was bitten by some bug. I was thoroughly frustrated that I couldn’t wear make-up to my bid night. I was wondering when I’d be able to make something crafty, and when I’d be able to make a plaque for my big. I didn’t even have a big at this point. I was dreaming of making my own letters (crafty bitches conserve), and whether or not my life would be covered in glitter. Fun fact – it is. 

In meeting the women who have become my sisters, I met women who represented many aspects of myself. Some, like my big, represent the conscientious, loving, respectable woman I hope to be once I reach maturity – lord knows I won’t be there soon enough. Others represent the woman I want to be in this moment – someone fun-loving, who is caring and kind, yet is a woman who refuses to take any shit. In finding my home within this sorority, I began to re-embrace my femininity. I had a reason to go out and get dressed up, and I was having /fun/ again. On that, I wasn’t scared to do so. I finally felt like myself, after so many years of not knowing who I was.

A part of my sorority’s symphony states that any member should be “womanly always, and discouraged never”. This is my favorite part, as it seems to embody my journey in this sorority. I will no longer be afraid of my femininity. I will embrace it, and wrap myself up in it, displaying it proudly. I refuse to let any grabby, sweaty boy dissuade me from wearing my favorite skirt and heels. I will wear my make-up as my war paint, and charge into battle every day. However, I will not be afraid to accept that there will be some days when I need to rock a good pair of sweats. I will be strong and proud of the woman I am, and will be moving ever towards the woman I will mature into. I will glitter, and be gay, and love every damn second of it.

How to be a Strong, Independent Woman who Don’t Need No Man (or Significant Other)

Ah, New Years. It’s the time of year where every white girl buys a membership to the gym and then cancels it three months later. The time where moms who’ve pledged to better their lives drag their crying spawn through the grocery store, explaining to them exactly why they can’t have their favorite sugar-laden snack food anymore. The time where people like myself – those who are able to keep commitments for a week, and then they just…stop – cringe at the thought of another disappointing round of resolutions, making them only to ignore them in a month.

This year, I made myself a list of ten resolutions. Some would seem to be common sense (#4 – Go to class EVERY DAY), while others are for my personal sanity (#9 – Nap when you need to!). There are some that might seem strange to “normal” people (#5 – Don’t be afraid of the gym!), and others that seem to be true New Years Resolutions (#1 – Write in your journal daily.) 

However, the most important of my New Years resolutions is the last on the list. It isn’t last because it was one I tacked on to the end to get an even number – I personally hate the number 9 – or to get one more thing off my chest. Traditionally, the best thing is saved for last, and this resolution, by far, is the best. It’s a step-by-step guide to being a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man. Well, in my case, no woman. And I’ve decided to share this handy guide with you, dear readers, because you all deserve it. 

Step one is simple enough. You need to realize your strengths and weaknesses, accept your weaknesses as reality, and celebrate every one of your strengths. In doing this, not only will you find things to be humbled by, but you should also find reasons to love yourself. Once you have these reasons to love yourself, write them down! Do you know how to take an excellent selfie? Make your Instagram selfie central. Can you make a mean creme brûlée? Sing about it with your basketball team while everyone is revealing their deepest darkest secrets. Do not be afraid to celebrate your strengths. But, in celebrating your strengths, always remember your weaknesses. You, like me, might be a cantankerous wench if you’re woken up before 8am on any given morning. You might have a horrible singing voice, or you could have a horrible temper. You need to acknowledge your weaknesses, while allowing them to take the backseat to your strengths, and love yourself as a whole.

The second step should be even easier, in my opinion, but it might be one of the hardest things for some to do. You need to NEVER let anyone get in the way of you loving yourself. Fuck the haters, and surround yourself with people who acknowledge your greatness. Do not lose sight of how wonderful you are, and do not let anyone blind you to your own brilliance. Because while the universe may be vast, and you may be a mere speck of dust in the vastness that is the cosmic sandbox, you are still YOU! If someone can only focus on your flaws, and refuses to let you realize how wonderful you are, you shouldn’t have those people in your life. 

Now, please note – being a strong, independent person who don’t need no significant other should in no way affect the relationships you have in your life. Whether you’re single as all hell, casually dating, in a new relationship, or they liked it so much they put a ring on it – your partner should support you in your goal of loving yourself, and you should encourage them to love themselves as well. Sometimes, it’s hard to love yourself. But on those days, you should never feel afraid to lean on those people I mentioned earlier, the ones who acknowledge your greatness. That could be your partner, or your best friend, or even your dog (shout out to Gizmo Grace, my ride or die). As time goes on, you will realize that you truly ARE a strong, independent person who don’t need no significant other. And once that happens? Well, I’ve heard that life becomes easier, and that all the little problems grow smaller each day.

Now, it’s time to sit down, and write out your list. If you haven’t already, resolve to remind yourself daily that you are strong, and you are wonderful, and you are the prettiest princess in all the land – and anyone who refutes this should be banished. Happy New Years, everybody, and I hope that this year will be filled with love, happiness, and fulfillment.

VS Fashion Show 2013; A Review, For Science.

Disclaimer: This review is in no way scientific or factual. This is merely my stream of consciousness throughout the fashion show, and that stream isn’t entirely fluid, because girls in bras prancing down a runway. If you can handle that, continue on.

First Segment – British Invasion
The fact that they opened up with Fall Out Boy really made my heart happy. The fact that Candice was the first model on the runway completely stole my attention from that. Girl was killin’ the SHIT out of the Fantasy Bra for this year. As this segment goes on, I could care less about who’s wearing what – except for the girl with the weird plaid punk-rock wings, and the one in the body suit with the leopard bra. The second girl was not punk rock enough for that outfit at all. But, overall, I wasn’t too disappointed. Also, Taylor Swift didn’t suck when she started singing along with FOB, so that was nice. By the end of this segment, I was still drooling over Candice, so I didn’t really care about anything else that was going on. Sorry not sorry, girl is flawless.

Second Segment – Shipwrecked
My notes on this say “I have no fucking clue who’s singing right now, but these girls are so distracting IDGAF”. My notes on this were so very accurate. When you pair beautiful lingerie with flowing fabrics, there’s something so…romantic about it. I don’t know why. They didn’t really look shipwrecked at all, but they were partially-to-mostly naked, so I wasn’t complaining. Also, the “Get to Know the Models” segment that followed, about the girls being stuck on an island, made me laugh. I believe it was Adriana who said the one thing she’d bring to a desert island would be a knife. She would survive on that island, and would probably have to eat her fellow models for sustenance and absorb their power. But hey, that’s okay – she’s the one who was smart enough to bring a damn knife. Bitches gots to learn.

(Another point I had on the “Get to Know the Models” segments – I don’t like them. It’s not like I can date these girls, and I’m unsure as to why VS is trying to make the models seem like real people. They’re models. They go on all-liquid diets the month before this show. THEY AREN’T REAL PEOPLE.)

Third Segment – Birds of Paradise.
Guys. What, what, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I get that you’re trying to be super cool and play with feathers and stuff – but half of these feathered concoctions are so confusing, they distract from the bra. Tucker, sweet baby angel that he is, was wondering why it was such a big deal that a girl tweaked her ankle before last year’s show in her high heels. No, babe – girl probably broke her foot, because her wings weighed about 30lbs, and she’s wearing sky-high heels, and she weighs about 115lbs herself. It baffles me that men don’t understand that high heels SUCK. We don’t wear them for comfort, assholes. ANYWAYS – the girls in this segment were rockin’ it, barring the crazy feathers. The third model out on the runway was giving me some serious eyes, and I was unsure whether or not to be into it – the “not” half of that was because, ya know, it was filmed two weeks ago and she wasn’t giving ME eyes, specifically. But, it could still totally happen. Holding out hope. 

Fourth Segment – PINK
Whenever Pink does their segment, literally everyone rolls their eyes. I understand that this line is for younger women, and that it’s all about having fun and being young. But the fashion of it literally makes NO SENSE. I could deal with the feathers, but come on – a giant smiley face balloon as a pair of wings?! VS YOU ARE LETTING ME DOWN SO HARD. Throughout this segment, I was confused as to who the band was – Tucker said that it seemed like an underground hipster garage band – and I wasn’t distracted enough by the girls to enjoy it. However, that one girl with the body paint could aaaabsolutely get it. If she ever reads this…she should hit me up. Find me on Twitter and we’ll talk, babe. The only one who really aggravated me in this segment was Cara, with her stupid yellow dishwasher gloves. She’s prancin’ down the runway like she’s hot shit, and I just can’t get behind it. She’s wearing dishwasher gloves, and her eyebrows are too distracting. No thank you.

Fifth Segment – Snow Angels
Disclaimer: I hate Taylor Swift. She annoys the ever-living shit out of me. If you can tolerate my opinion on that and continue reading, that’s awesome. If not, STOP HERE.

Alright. The minute I heard the opening chords to “Trouble”, I started screaming. Taylor, we get it. You knew he was trouble when he walked in. SHUT. UP. I am SO SICK of that damn song. I was so mad that I wasn’t paying attention to the lovely ladies. But once I did, it was great. These girls are all killin’ it, with their wings and all the white lingerie, and then – WHY IS TAYLOR SWIFT WALKING DOWN THE RUNWAY. TAYLOR YOU ARE NOT IN LINGERIE. YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE VS MODEL BOOBS. STOP WALKING DOWN THE RUNWAY. (This pissed me off last year, too, when Rihanna did the SAME THING.) Candice was my flower queen in that gorgeous outfit…ugh, I love her. And then Karlie Kloss, KILLING that body suit…Tucker is just as obsessed with Karlie as I am with Candice, and he successfully argued to me that Karlie, while she may not be as bangin’ as Candice, is probably the most real girl on the runway. I’ve got to agree – she seems like a normal human being. Barring the whole liquid diet thing.

And as the show draws to an end, and TSwift stops singing, the models come down to the end of the runway, and they all smile and wave and lord, am I thankful. The VS Fashion Show for this year has been a success, the girls were killin’ it all night, and TSwift has stopped singing. Now, we wait in hope that next year’s show will hopefully have a better Pink segment, and that they’ll get someone like Ke$ha to perform. No need to thank me if you use that idea, VS. However, if you do want to thank me, I wear a 34B and a size small in underwear.

Dear Future Girlfriend

Dear Future Girlfriend,

Hi there! How’re you doing? I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I’ve been thinking about you for a bit, lady, and I’ve got a favor to ask you. No pressure, or anything – don’t want to ask too much of you, especially since you don’t exist right now – but for the sake of my sanity, could you please not suck? You would think that I wouldn’t have to ask you this question. And believe me, I never thought I’d have to ask it either. But, sadly, I do. I’m one of those girls who gets all the dirty laundry out of the way, so I might as well air it before I even meet you. That way, I can just show you this blog (or you might even be reading it on your own right now!), and we can skip that awkward conversation on my end!

For starters, I’ve got three simple rules. Literally, the most simple rules you can think of. The first is just don’t lie to me. I can’t stand people who lie, especially people I care about. You aren’t doing yourself any favors in lying to protect me, or lying to preserve yourself. In the long run, lying to me is just going to get me mad at you. (Please note that lying by omission, e.g., ignoring my questions, is still lying. Lying to protect a surprise, however, is okay.) Second rule seems kind of obvious to me, but people tend not to care anyways – do NOT cheat on me. I’ve been cheated on by three different people, in the three relationships I consider to be my most significant ones so far in life. I count kissing as cheating, and I count consistent flirting with someone else as cheating too. When you’re in a relationship with me, you’re there for me and me alone. If you’re even considering someone else – just get the fuck out. I don’t have time for disloyalty, especially when I’m giving someone my all. My third rule doesn’t follow this general line of character, but it’s important to me, nonetheless. And this is, don’t insult my family. I can talk shit about these people all I want. I live with them. I’ve dealt with their beautiful faces for my whole life, so I have earned the right to complain. Unless you’ve got a diamond on my finger, you have no right to say jack shit about my family.

Barring those three rules, I’m not really expecting much from you. I like the occasional bouquet of flowers, and pretty jewelry (pretty does NOT equal expensive!), and movies. If you’ll sit with me and watch a movie and let me talk through half of it, while you sit there in silence? You’re an amazing person and I’ll reward you with sex afterwards. (Oh, and please – let’s have lots of good sex.) I’m hoping that you and I will have similar interests. I’m really hoping that if I meet you in the winter, you’ll accept that I hate the cold and you’ll keep me warm and cuddled up inside. If you wanna go and play in the snow, you need to accept that I’ll be okay for fifteen minutes, and then I’ll take off my gloves and start whining and we’ll have to go home. If you don’t think that’s true, ask my dad – that is exactly how it goes, every single time. I will make up for this, however, by tickling you with my cold hands and kissing you while you laugh. I’ll be kissing you a lot, actually. As well as hugging you, and holding your hand, and just being near you frequently. I hope you don’t mind.

I hope that you’ll be understanding if things go sour. My head is a mess of problems that take me a long while to figure out. There are going to be nights where I’ll need you to hold me while I cry for no reason. There are going to be days where you’re going to come and find me curled up in bed, facing the wall, and ignoring the world because it’s just too hard. There will be times, however, where I am smiling from ear to ear, singing along to some of my favorite songs in my car. Maybe you’ll be enraptured and staring at me with some goofy grin. Maybe you’ll be singing right along with me. I know that when I get low, I can be miserable to be around. But I hope that the times when I’m not low will be enough to entice you to stick around through the messy stuff.

Most of all, future girlfriend, I truly hope that we’ll be happy together. I’m hopeful for a future where I can wake up next to someone and smile, because they’ll still be holding me. Where you won’t judge me if our tastes in music are too different. (But please, please, PLEASE DON’T LIKE COUNTRY MUSIC!) Where we can go out and party all night, then come home at 1 in the morning and order pizza and smoke a bowl and laugh about the amazing times we had. I am truly hopeful that I’ll be able to put a smile on your face, and that you’ll appreciate all of the stupid stuff I say and do, and you’ll love my lame stories, and you’ll be so happy to have me in your life. I’m truly hopeful that I’ll be enough for you, because I haven’t been enough for many people. I just want to be loved, lady, and I know for a fact I will love you so hard and date the SHIT out of you. So, if you made it through this, and you’d still like to be in my life? Fantastic. Let’s go on an adventure together and never look back.

Yours,

Jayanne Nicole

PS. Don’t let me be a phase for you. That shit ain’t cute.

She’s Just Not That Into You – The Lesbian Edition

Ladies, I know you’ve all been there. You meet a person, you grow to be friends, and then you realize – this dude wants much, much more than friendship. Now things are awkward. You don’t know how to get out of here without ruining a friendship, and at the same time, the idea of dating this guy is the furthest thing from possible, in your mind. And honey, you better believe that I’ve been there too. Not with girls – I’m not that cool – but with boys.

God, it’s the worst. Having a person approach you with something you can’t return is really, really difficult. For me, I find it horribly awkward for a guy to ask me out on a date when I’m just not that into him. However, in situations like this, you’ve got to rip off the band-aid. It’s much easier to be blunt and honest than trying to make up some messy story. There are other approaches, sure, but isn’t honesty the best policy?

What makes it even worse is that I’m as out of the closet as possible. Yes, I’m a femme lesbian – I love looking beautiful, as it makes me feel beautiful. When I go out, I like to look hot. Turning heads is fun for me, whether they’re male or female. But I’m not really dressing with the intention of picking up anyone of the opposite sex – I’m dressing up for me. (Sorry boys, I know it’s heartbreaking to hear it’s not all about you.) The only other person I’ll dress for is a female of interest. But, generally, there aren’t a lot of lesbians at the parties I go to. (Note to self: work on that.)

I also have this really bad habit of being genuinely friendly with someone, and not realizing that they’re flirting. I’ll be carrying on conversation with someone, and they’ll be super charming, and the minute I drop “Oh, I’m a lesbian” into the conversation, they look like I’ve kicked their puppy. When I came out to my guy friends at school, one of them said that it demoted me from one of the hottest girls in the building. I mean…I understand it. Boys can totally get scared of true competition (;. But that’s besides the point. I tend to lead people on in the beginning, without even knowing it, because I’m too socially awkward to understand what flirting is. If a guy were to bring me a drink, I’d think he was being genuinely friendly.

So, by the time I’ve cluelessly wormed my way into some poor bastard’s heart, I’m left feeling very, very awkward. It was literally never my intention to charm this sucker, and yet, here he is, with hearts in his eyes. So, this is the point where I get to let him down easy. I’ll drop my orientation into the conversation, maybe tell a funny story about my ex, try and talk about other girls…some guys take it easily, and the transition from crush to bro is seamless. But when a guy gets hurt over it…that’s just the wooorst.

I generally like to play by a simple set of rules in the dating game. If I’m into it, I give it my all. If I’m not into it, I try and back away slowly, as not to poke the bear that can be an aggravated rejection. It’s supremely difficult to know how someone will handle rejection. However, I have my own experiences to work from, and in my personal opinion, honesty early on is the only way to end things before it gets too messy. Thankfully, I have yet to meet a boy who turns a rejection into a four-act drama. I hope I never have that distinct pleasure.

In short, rejection is rough. No one wants to deal with it, but we have to. You aren’t always going to get the job. You aren’t always going to get the girl. Then again, it’s just another job, and she’s just another girl. Time goes on, the world moves forward, and ya know what? Just because that girl at the bar turned out to be a lesbian should be no knock to your sexual prowess, gentlemen. Accept that you both have far too many similar interests, and you’d be better off as friends. And plus, she’ll probably help you find a smokeshow later on, anyways.

Dear Straight Girls

Dear Straight Girls,

It’s about time I wrote you all this letter. And believe me, it’s been a long time coming. First, let me preface with this small statement – I think you all are fantastic human beings, and in no way judge you for the stupid things you say. (Well, that’s not entirely true – if you stick your foot so far in your mouth it pops out your behind, I’ll judge you for that.) However, ladies, it’s time to let you know – I’m not really that into you.

Please, don’t be upset. There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent this. I just don’t find you that attractive. However, this isn’t a knock at your beauty. You all are definitely gorgeous, and funny, and especially amazing people to be around. I’m just put off a bit by the fact that you like penis in and around your body. It’s kind of a turn off for me. Barring that, you’re a lovely bunch of individuals. 

In my telling you that I was gay, it was not a secret attempt to find out if you were into me. Dear, if I’m coming out to you, it’s not about you – it’s purely selfish, in the sense that I don’t want you to freak the fuck out if I start bringing a special lady around to hang. If you have to ask if I’m “into you like that”, you can answer the question yourself – I’m definitely not.

I promise that I truly only like you as a friend. And that one time we made out when you were drunk – it was literally because you were drunk, and I’m not gonna say no to free kisses from pretty girls. However, for future reference, please watch the teeth. A little nibble now and then is okay, but trying to gnaw my lip off isn’t cute. Oh, and please don’t let your boyfriend get any ideas. I want nothing to do with any dirty ideas he may get, especially if he starts suggesting a threesome. I literally want nothing to do with anyone’s penis. Never. Again.

I don’t really want to make things awkward between us. You’re all super awesome. I just get weird every time I try to compliment you. I wish I didn’t have to preface it with “No homo, but…”. Your straight friends tell you that you look totally fuck-able in that one outfit – if they’re right, I’ll definitely agree. Think of it as a compliment, really – if the lesbian thinks you look bangin’, she’s definitely telling the truth!

So, I hope that this clears the air between us. I get that things might be different between us now, but please know this: I love you just the same, no matter what your sexual preference is. Okay lil’ guy? Let’s not let this come between us. I’m still the same girl that you bonded with over Criminal Minds and your love of dressing well. I just happen to like vagina. That’s literally the only difference.

Love you, always

Jayanne

P.S. If we’re gonna talk about your sex life and your boy drama, please let me get a couple stories in edgewise. I can only handle so many boy stories before my eyes start to glaze over and I think of my happy place. Thanks!