This is blog of a woman who didn't know what she wanted and so chased after dreams and men in search of the answers...drunken hilarity ensued. Then one day she met a man who was everything she wanted, but he wasn't so sure. Then she did the unthinkable; after they broke up she gave him this blog address and she let him into her mind as well as her heart. Unbelievably, even after sorting through the sordid archives of failed relationships, one night stands and her lusty (and embarassing) pursuit to secure the heart of a certain young line cook, John somehow managed to fall in love with her too. Melina and John were married a little over six months after they started dating, running away to Las Vegas to seal the deal. You can imagine what the over/under bet was to see if they'd even make it a year!! Over a year later and they are still going strong...this blog has become their story. Need to tell me something? Email me at Melinalovesjohnny at gmail dot com
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Thursday, July 19, 2007
He supports me, like my bra supports my breasts
After a fairly harrowing experience at both Fredericks of Hollywood and Victoria's Secret yesterday I was feeling a little low about my lingerie purchase. There is just no in-between ground with these places. Federicks is just sleazy and cheap looking and Victoria's Secret is more comfort driven than sexy driven lately...don't get me wrong, I saw lots of things that I would like to wear when cuddled up with a bowl of popcorn and a movie; but this mission wasn't about me--it was about John. You see, I was reminded on Friday of the fact that I don't romance the boy enough. And it's true. I'll strip down naked at any given moment but I never do it with any panache or class. As John stated on Friday, "I guess you never had to do it? You just brought the guy home, took him up to your bed and had at it, huh?"

Um, yeah...that's about right.

So anyways, I decided that I was going to start practicing my seduction/romance skills. I know the boy has a weakness for lingerie and stockings so I set out to give him exactly what he wanted. After a brief shuffling through Fredericks, I left only with the stockings. I got to VS and I couldn't find anything that wasn't an A cup or a 32. Frustrated, I found one item I wasn't completely fond of, but it would do. I hastily paid for it, grabbing a couple lipglosses for good luck and to cure my desire to run to Sephora and drop a paycheck or two and I headed home.

It was at home that I tried the damn mesh/lace thingamig on. First of all, it was a small...I am not a small. It fit though, and that made me happy. Looking in the mirror, I was expecting to look more like the ladies in the catalog do. I looked decidedly nothing like that. Then I realized that I didn't have a garter belt anymore, so the stockings that I pulled up began a shameful slide back down my legs as if they were too embarassed to be seen on me. I reached into my arsenal (read: three drawers of bras and panties...I used to work at VS!) and pulled out a frilly little garter skirt thingamabob that I had never worn. It looked cute as I held it in my hand, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I had never worn it. Two minutes later, I realized. That little garter skirt was the most goddamn-ridiculous thing ever invented. I swear, even the dog had to bite her lip not to openly gaffaw.

Stripping that off, I slipped into my trusty boxer shorts and t-shirt and put the offending lingerie back into it's small pink bag and stowed it next to the couch. When John came home, I slowly explained the trouble that I had had with my seduction mission as I pulled the lame lacy items out of the bag exclaiming, "It's not even what I wanted. It's STUPID!" and that's when I started to cry a little.

John grabbed the stupid cami top thing and said,"No it's cute" and then in the same breath, "Are these holes so your nipples poke out??" And I nodded, pronouncing,"They're stupid too!" with all the conviction of a five year old who doesn't want to eat her broccoli. "You can pull them shut, that's what I did when I tried it on...they're stupid poking out like that." (Notice my immense vocabulary?? I really like the word stupid. A Lot.) And then I cried a few more tears. And that's when John comforted me, by cupping my boob and gently murmuring, "There, there." And that made me laugh, because John was comforting my breast. Later, I used this move on him to ease the pain of a devasting loss at darts to yours truly. It seemed to calm him as well...go figure.

This little tale simply proves that Sarah Silverman is always right. She said, "If you hop in the shower with your boyfriend or husband you are guaranteed to leave it with squeaky clean breasts!"

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posted by Melina at 2:20 PM