Meet M.J. Corey, a New York based writer. She has a Tumblog called The Average American Female, but she’s anything but because she’s cute, whitty, talented — and she likes girls. But seriously, she’s had all these chapters from her manuscript published in some major magazines and has been getting booked for a lot of public readings lately.
You care because cute girls who wear fedoras make you feel a bit better about those confusing feelings you had about Joey McIntyre back when NKOTB was all the rage. I care because because she’s a cute, whitty, talented writer who likes girls and the interwebs — and who reached to me, which makes me think that I might already have a prospect for the next time in The Big Apple — or, as I like to call it, The Big Peach 😉
Meet Melissa Allen. According to her Twitter bio, she’s a “Writer. Web Marketer. French Speaker. Beer drinker. Fine diner. Gourmet Cooker. Book Reader. Art Lover. Theatre/Ballet/Opera Goer. World Traveler.”
You care because black girls who pole dance and drink beer but go to the ballet and opera are pretty much everything you need to rebel against your overbearing mother who held you too much and never thinks that any girl is good enough for you despite your complete lack of accomplishment and self-esteem.
I care because girls who pole dance and describe themselves as “fine diners” and “gourmet cookers” can add something to the idea of “dinner and dancing” that’s a lot more in-line with this blog’s slogan.
You care because when overachievers dominate you, they do it in a way that leaves your brutish male ego in tact and doesn’t make you feel like a wuss for being submissive. I care because anyone who has there shit together but is still interested in whether there’s intelligent life out there is probably open-minded enough to try anything at least once, and I can make a pretty compelling case for why a girl should go past first base with another girl or, if they already have, why they should try it again.
You care because girls with red hair who take pictures of themselves in the washroom somehow remind you of that girl in high school you were only ever friends with, back when when it was okay to never make a move because everyone was bad in bed and it was still fine to spend your Friday nights playing video games with your friends instead of trying to get the girl.
I care because she’s a girl with red hair who performs burlesque, plays roller derby, and makes movies about getting over boys, which means that she’s gotta get over them eventually, and then maybe she’ll consider making a bathroom burlesque movie with a full female cast and I could audition.
You care because she’s a cute, stylish, chick who’s built a reputation on liking boys, so you figure if you’ve ever had a chance to nail a petite, little hipster chick, this is it, so now you’re wondering whether you should book a flight (or bus ticket) out to LA and start asking around American Apparel stores where’s a good place to hang out because you figure that all the hipsters in LA hang out in the same place and the 17 year that’s peddling see-through plaid shirts for Dov Charney knows where that is.
I care because despite that her M.O. is “being boy crazy,” she still manages to capture my imagination in a way that takes me back to when sex was still new and strange and exciting enough that I couldn’t tell trouble from a good time, and even dudes weren’t completely out of the question after a few drinks.
Oh, you also care because she does sex-tape spoofs which, admittedly, is kinda hot…
Meet Michelle Chmielewski (@MiChmski). I came across her (and this video) last Friday, and found it so cute I’ve decided to profile a cute geek girl every Friday from now on.
This video is her new thing: a weekly video blog called Friday’s a Day in the Life. And this first one is about “les bises” — or that kiss on both cheeks that the French do.
You care because she’s a bubbly and animated kitten who speaks two languages and can teach you stuff about another culture, and you can use that as an excuse to ask her to hang out sometime and start getting close enough to her that maybe she’ll overlook that you’re an unsophisticated brute who’s only interested in getting in her pants — until, that is, you do, and then you’d go back to being an apathetic slouch who spends his evenings on the couch nodding off in front of the TV.
I care because she’s into les bises, meaning that I have a perfectly innocent pretense to lean in close to her and execute one those awkward “which cheek first?” moments, and then pause before pulling away slowly, which will make her wonder “what was that all about?” and “could she into me?” which she’ll find flattering and then maybe start wondering “what it would be like to kiss a girl,” and the rest, as they say, would just take a little bit of luck and timing.