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[Thought Catalog] This Is A Story About Falling

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Published Oct. 30, 2013 on Thought Catalog.

This is a story about fall—the season, but it’s also a story about love—the act of falling in love, not to be mistaken with the act of falling out of love, of falling into despair.

Continue reading at Thought Catalog.

Follow: Facebook.com/melysamartinez and @melysamartinez.

I gots a newsletter, y’all

you called me a bitch on the internet

You guys, I started a newsletter for my writings. Why a newsletter? Because YOLO. Took a cue from writer Ann Friedman and am using the newsletter to share my projects and published articles and those of my rad writer friends. I’m no Ann Friedman, but I’m not a fan of Twitter and I’m not using Facebook with what frequency I once had, so: newsletter. It’ll probably be once a month, if that. Sign up. Please and thank you. Love you long time. ♥

[Thought Catalog] Tears Are Whiskey for the Soul

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Published May 22, 2013 on Thought Catalog.

“Many times in a good life, you’ll laugh until you cry. And many other times, you’ll cry until you laugh. In the end, laughing and crying are more like cousins than strangers. They’re how honest human beings respond to a life they allow themselves to love, and my hope is that you have plenty of tears in your life—of all kinds.”
— From the book, “Tell My Sons…” by Lt. Col. Mark M. Weber

Last Monday, as I scrolled past cat memes and cute corgi puppies on my Facebook feed, I discovered that the mother of one of my close girlfriends had passed away. On Tuesday, Facebook informed me the brother-in-law of one of my best girl friends was stabbed seven times after saving a woman from being stabbed by her husband. On Wednesday, I discovered a lump on my left breast. On Thursday, my co-worker’s husband died. By the time I crawled into bed crying Thursday night, all I could think about was boarding my Friday flight to San Francisco and how wonderful it was going to feel to hug a close girl friend of 12 years who I had not seen in six.

She and I had planned to move to San Francisco and be roommates. Then, one day, while I worked on “saving money” (read: spending money) in ATL, she’d called and said she’d booked her flight. She departed in a week. She was moving to San Francisco. I was not. That was two years ago.

Nine months ago I left ATL for Las Vegas with plans to crash with my older brother and save money so I could finally actually move to San Francisco, but all that ended up happening was that I freelanced for a bit, was unemployed for a bit, worked a shit job for a bit, and as of three weeks ago, finally got a decent job. No money was saved, just the accumulation of passed time.

And because I do not have the money to move to San Francisco, I decided the least I could do was get a buddy pass from my bro and go visit my friend. I have other close friends in the Bay Area, but of everyone there she’s the one I’m closest with and has known me longest. She’s seen me through a decade’s worth of phases (like me with a tongue ring. seriously? seriously), and heartache (he was ten years my senior with neck tattoos … need I say more?), and the many failed attempts at learning my way (too many to specify).

Continue reading at Thought Catalog.

Follow on Facebook.com/melysamartinez and Twitter at @melysamartinez.

[Las Vegas CityLife] A good day to love hard: Give Valentine’s Day its props

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Published in the February 13, 2013 issue of Las Vegas CityLife.

It’s easy to hate on Valentine’s Day; it’s a corporate holiday that preys on our consumer habits. But, really, the animosity springs from elsewhere. After all, anyone who’s been struck by Cupid’s arrow knows the exchange of love does not come in the form of roses or chocolates or diamonds. It’s not the artificial marketing of love that gets under our skin. No, the reason the single and lonely throw shade at that half naked man-baby angel is because we’re jealous his OCD-ass didn’t drug us with one of his soma-coated arrows. Coming face-to-face with all those heart-shaped cards at our local Target merely serves as a reminder of that which is absent from our lives.

Continue reading

[AYS] Don’t call it a sundae. Or, Can we please keep shit real?

Published in the June 28, 2012 issue of Creative Loafing Atlanta.

He was Colombian, with olive skin, dark brown hair, and green eyes. An engineering major, we met my freshman year of college. He was the second person I ever had sex with. Before our clothes even hit the ground, he spoke frankly: “I don’t want a girlfriend.” There was no way I could misunderstand what he was saying. After all, he told me point-blank. (Read: “I don’t want you as my girlfriend.”) Most important, however, his actions were in line with his words. We didn’t go on pseudo-dates, nor did we text or speak on the phone. Aside from parties with friends, and sex here and there, we showed no mutual interest in each other’s lives. It was, in short, easy.

But nowadays, things are different. The older I get, the more I miss my college days when everyone was still respectful as they came into their own, when hearts had yet to be chewed to a bloody pulp, and casual sex was honest. Now casual sex is wedged somewhere between brunch and that show Facebook said you were both attending, most likely with other people but that would be awkward so you just go with each other instead. It’s not that casual sex partners can’t do lunch or attend the same event with or without each other’s company, so much as people can get hurt when the casual sex is veiled behind the term “dating.”

Continue reading at Creative Loafing Atlanta.

Follow on Facebook.com/melysamartinez and Twitter at @melysamartinez.

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