Some people just don’t know how to have fun. Like instead of grabbing me around the waist and kissing me passionately in the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant, they’ll tell me sternly, “I don’t do PDA.” God help you if you can’t enjoy the affections of a pretty girl to the max, people.
There are some people who are totally transparent about their desire to date a certain person, For example, texting them at all hours of the day with check-ins like “what’s up?” or “can I come over tonight?” As the shy type, however, I prefer to cast voodoo postcard spells on the object of my affection, instead. Optional: write your “I want you” note in your own blood for dramatic flair…. it just might work.
There’s a lot of women who tend to wander into the YBD pop-up shop looking for cards to send their friends. So I dutifully go around and pick out all the postcards that use the word “friend” in the text. So far nobody’s taken me up on this one. I mean, I know it’s a little racy, but c’mon… it’s all just a metaphor for juicy girl talk.
I was sick to death of the idea of a guy coming over just to screw me and leave 45 minutes later. But when you’re broke, you can’t exactly invite them to go out to eat at a restaurant you can’t afford. So you know what I did? I started inviting this one guy over for conversation and sorbet instead.
Yes, you do. (Need love, that is.) So how about we stop looking for it in another pill, another toy, or another poor unsuspecting person to project all our fantasies onto? Real love is about understanding and acceptance. An easy enough way to start could be grabbing a warm, fuzzy blanket and a sweet house pet to cuddle up with.
The other day I found myself asking AI, “what happens when two alpha females have to spend time together?” (Answer: either it’s a total disaster, or they join forces to form a superpower.) But that’s a boring answer. I want the kind of outcome in which I storm into the scene and completely upstage the existing alpha princess, to the delight of the crowds that have gathered.
I get a lot of questions about what the “best kind of obscene phone call” would be like. But the truth is, that’s a highly personal question. Like I might really enjoy an obscene phone call where i was told to take off all my clothes, get in bed, and go directly to sleep. But you might like the kind where there was some actual human interaction. Up to you.
Oh, isn’t this one so sweet and tender? I originally made it for a guy I’d been obsessed with, on-and-off, for about eight years. Then we had a parting of the ways that involved repeated use of the phrase, you little rat. And yet, I am full of hope for the future.
I’m not a real doctor… I just play one in the hokey ‘80s sitcom that is my imagination. And if you could hear him speak (he looks a lot like Richard Mulligan on Empty Nest), he would say something no less hokey than a love letter a day keeps the doctor away! *holds up pointer finger and grins madly for effect; awkward giggles erupt from the live studio audience*
It’s okay to get excited. It’s okay to feel shy. And it’s totally okay to feel so excited and shy that you’re simultaneously terrified and thrilled at the prospect of running into your crush at, say, Costco or Target on an unassuming Tuesday afternoon. Or, y’know, you could just shoot them a text asking them to come over?
I’d like to treat you so well that you never feel hurt, longing, or the dull aching of loneliness ever again. But I can’t be in your life like that, so I’ll do the next best thing: create a line of postcards that could be the inspiration that puts you on the road to your own truest fulfillment. After all, you deserve it, my love.
One of the sweetest moments at the YBD pop-up shop this summer was when my lovely friend Robin’s husband inquired if I could make this card into a version for men. Why doesn’t this version apply to men? was what Robin wanted to know. But I said, I got you, buddy. The following week I brought him a draft, in pocket card form, which he seemed to like. So look out for the Tony Soprano version in postcard form, soon.
Once upon a time, there was a band called Depeche Mode that sold out countless stadium shows, performing nothing less than the very soundtrack of my soul. Martin Gore, the keyboardist, wrote all the music, and was a fantastically attractive person who refused to call any attention to himself. That is, except when he wore black leather dominatrix gear, and sang lead on “I Want You Now,” “Somebody,” and “The Things You Said.” I don’t know about Dave Gahan, but Martin ended up living happily ever after.
“They” say there are five major love languages: physical touch; words of affirmation; quality time together; gifts; and acts of service. I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest another one: POSTCARDS. Whether they feature a picture of a quaint sailboat, the Miami city skyline, or an early-’80s shot of Kim Alexis modeling nail polish, it is the firm opinion of YBD that postcards will indeed save the Universe. And maybe, your relationship?
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