This article was inspired by SheWonHeWon.com, a new photoblog where you vote for who got the short end of the stick in a relationship. Check it out!

The social universe has an unspoken balance in place that ensures that life makes sense. We hang out with people as cool as we are, we date within our acceptable range, and people that are born into wealth and status run our countries. When some son of a bitch tries to upset that balance, bad things happen. Remember the French Revolution? That happened because one of Quasimodo’s descendants landed a smoking-hot art model. The Civil War? Some mustachioed sea donkey from the North decided she wanted to date a studly land owner from Alabama.  Name any natural disaster and it can be traced back to some fugly idiot not following the rules of romance. If you mess with the balance, the universe compensates with blood.

Despite this delicate equilibrium, matchmaking is never perfect. Occasionally it is so uneven that it elicits a deep sense of injustice from our communal soul, sort of like any time Keanu Reeves gets another acting gig. You know something isn’t right. You can feel it. Someone is getting something they don’t deserve.

So, you walking dumpster, how do you make things right once you have a hottie in your white-knuckled, kill-me-to-take-it grip? How do you cope with dating someone that is hotter than you? Grab your Moleskine and take a seat, my child. We have much to discuss. Read the full story

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I’ve had a sort of writing dry spell lately. As my legions of TTM fans have likely noticed, I haven’t contributed a whole lot to the site lately. I have a new job, a girlfriend, and the meth empire for which TTM is actually a front. What can I say? Kent and I are entrepreneurs and we saw a lucrative opportunity. I’ll tell you what though, we offer the best customer service and if you O.D. on our product, we give you your money back!

I digress. The point is, I’ve been busy. The content on the site has been mostly driven by Kent and hilarious contributors. I receive a loud voicemail every other day from Kent that is almost entirely comprised of vulgarities and racial epithets that don’t apply to me. I’m sorry buddy, but you just can’t coerce hilarity out of someone. It has to come from inspiration.

And well, I found some inspiration the other day. The following is my commentary on a list from a website called “The Frisky” about what you should teach your sons about women. What kind of website has that kind of ridiculous name? Good question. It’s a site by women, for women. Anytime a woman writes something about how men work, what men think, or generally anything about men, you can almost guarantee that it’s completely wrong. This list is a decent example of that, although I do agree with some of what it says. The rest of it… well… You’ll see. Here it is. The list itself will be in bold, my comments will be in italics. Bon Appetit, gluttons.

Read the full story

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Apparently I was supposed to run my selection last night. What would a TTM birthday celebration be if it weren’t kind of half-assed? Exactly. Thanks for validating me. Anyway, this one here is one of my favorites from the Coping Guide series. You know these kinds of people. I know these kinds of people. Hell, you might even be this kind of person. No matter who you are, this bad boy is guaranteed to make you shoot mucus-laden chocolate milk out of your nose and/or your ass. Enjoy.

Isn’t love amazing? It really is. Nothing else like it. Not even drugs. It’s a rare and beautiful thing when you finally meet that special someone. Who knows where cupid struck you both with his arrow? Maybe you had a class together. Maybe you met through a friend. Maybe you met on Myspace. Whatever the medium upon which your personal Romeo and Juliet began (except without the mutual suicide!), I’m sure you’ve experienced just how hard it is to keep that fireball of romance to yourself. Luckily for you, we here at The Talking Mirror are in the self-help business and have come up with a guide just for you and your boo bear.*

Step One: Always Maintain Physical Contact
No matter what happens, never forget this step. Your love will explode into a dust of broken promises and insecurities you never knew you could have. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, whoever you’re with; none of it matters. The rule always applies. You must always be touching each other. It doesn’t have to be normal or even practical. It just has to be. Common examples:

The “arm around the waist even while walking, running, swimming, or sitting.” This is a pretty common choice amongst the love-stricken. Keep your arm around your lover’s waist no matter how inconvenient it may get, even as you try to run up the escalator or go through airport security. If you don’t, they will disappear instantly. Guaranteed. Read the full story

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So there you are, innocently battering pedestrians with a bus in Grand Theft Auto when you hear that dreaded, menacing sound; a warning of sorts, it’s the closest thing to a rattlesnake’s “chchchchchch” that mankind has yet evolved. The hair on your arms stands on end, your body tenses, your butt cheeks clench, and your palms begin to sweat. You feel your toes begin to push down on the ground slightly, ready to run (instinctively you opt for the “flight” over the “fight” because you’re a pansy). You try to ignore it, but it just gets louder and louder, unwilling to bear your charade of ignorance. Finally, the sound reaches a volume and tone that elicits your response, a reflex aimed at self-preservation.

“Schnuckums!? Are you listening to me?”

“Uh…” You say, your voice waivering. “Yeah babe, I hear you.”

“Are you ready?” the predator bellows, baiting the prey.

“Ready for what… beautiful?” You reply, hoping that somehow the interrogative will provide you an escape while tossing in the compliment at the end to ease the delivery, like the flavoring those bastards put in NyQuil.

“Don’t even try that crap on me. Get off your ass. We’re going shopping.” The snare tightens around your feet. You’ve been caught. Resistance is now futile.

Now that you’ve been reduced to the status of indentured servant, there are a few things you must remember in order to survive. The full moon that is a monthly sale has turned your once kind, sweet girlfriend into a vicious, bloodthirsty monster. A wereshopper, if you will. Like a lycanthrope, but much more subtle in its preferred murderous methods.  You’re about to venture into a dark, dangerous place. Stick with me, and you’ll be stronger, more courageous, and not single when it’s over. Welcome to the jungle.

Read the full story

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Ladies, I’m going to go ahead and clue you in to a little secret that is guaranteed to strengthen your relationship with your beau, or boo, or whatever the hell you want to call your boy toy. That’s right. This is TTM: Cosmo Edition.

There’s a little phenomenon I’ve noticed among women that I’ve found troublingly pervasive. It seems to be like some kind of mental infection. I guess they call that insanity, huh? Anyway, girl after girl, all over the country, they seem to suffer from the same disturbing delusion that is destroying more relationships every day. It is this delusion, not the gays, that is responsible for the degradation of marriage in today’s society.

The habitual crime is thus: Women believe that it is funny to men when they use fake accents.

Oh my gawd! I sound British, but I'm not! Hahahahahaahhaha!!!!!!1

I’m going to begin with the cold hard truth, ladies. Your accents – British, French Russian, whatever Asian accent it is that you think you’re doing – are not funny to men. Your girlfriends may laugh, but your girlfriends also like Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson movies. Do you see what I’m saying? Follow the logical progression here. Read the full story

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spelling "hot" incorrectly means it's sexier

Man, look at her over there, being all hott and stuff. Mmmm hmmm, hott with two t’s. Don’t you wish you could talk to her? Maybe for extended periods of time, perhaps via a telephonic device? That sounds like a fun idea. But how do you get to that point? It’s a treacherous trail to blaze, son. If you’re a total sissy, I mean. Then it’s treacherous. If you’re a sweet master of romance like myself, it’s just another phone number for my little black book. And by “little” I mean “the size of most dictionaries.”

You’re going to want to print this guide out, fold it up, and put it in your wallet. Discreetly pull it out and unfold it when you’re at a bar, a coffee shop, or Victoria’s Secret, having with you a step by step guide to getting that babe’s digits. Another idea – this is progressive, but it’ll show you’ve got heart – tattoo a summarized list on your forearm. That way, when you get this chick’s numero (that’s number in Spanish) and you fall in love Eharmony-style, you can show her that tatt and say “baby, that’s how bad I wanted to know your mind.” She’ll be gushing, friend. Gushing. It’s time. Walk with me. Read the full story

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true love is hearts and circles shooting out of your head.

Yes, yes, I know. It’s been a long time since we’ve spent some time together, talking through our problems and becoming better people. I apologize for the hiatus of my massive wisdom. I’ve been busy writing my autobiography How to Cope with Being Awesome: The Life of Conor McCarthy. I’ve finally finished all 1200 pages of that though, and it’s time to get back to helping you navigate this horrifying labyrinth that is your everyday life. Today I’m going to guide you through the section of this maze that we call the First Date with some succulent bread crumbs of advice. Romance is near, friends. Walk with me.

First Things First
You’re already ahead of the game in that you’re going on a date at all.  You landed a phone number (most likely) and a date, so you at least have that trophy. No one can take that from you, even if your date decides that you’re “the creepiest guy she’s ever met” and that you “have the style of a Las Vegas street performer.” She’s a stinky skank anyway. (Yeah, that’s right Susan. Stinky. Like a petting zoo.) I’m going to split this guide into a section for the ladies and a section for the gentlemen. The first date experience is different for both genders, just like urinating. Read the full story

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1. There is to be no kissing until the wedding day.
2. There is to be no kissing until we’re sure we could see ourselves marrying each other.
3. Kissing is officially sanctioned as long as it is not too noisy and not in the style of the French.
4. The style of the French is acceptable as long as the kissing session does not exceed 10 minutes.
5. French kisses lasting longer than 10 minutes will be allowed on the condition that they are immediately followed by a Bible study of equivalent duration.
6. Bible study time is NOT to be spent kissing.  If kissing occurs, those minutes must be deducted from Bible study time and added to kissing time, thereby increasing the number of required Bible study minutes necessary to balance the ledger.
7. Bible studies will no longer be held by the light of “prayer candles” in my beanbag chair.
8. Never again will we inhabit my bedroom at the same time.
9. Never again will we inhabit your little sister’s bedroom at the same time.
10. No more hanging out after dark.
11. Sunday will henceforth be a “day of rest” during which we cease from our labors of love and abstain from all kissing.
12. An article of clarification: Sunday begins at 12:00am Central Daylight Time and ends at 11:59pm Central Daylight Time.  No, it is not “always Monday somewhere.” For purposes of consistency, Eskimo Kisses, Butterfly Kisses, and Camel Kisses will be included under the umbrella definition of a “kiss” and therefore forbidden on Sundays.  No longer will distinctions be drawn between kissing, making out, sucking face, tongue wrestling, or tonsil tickling.  All are forms of kissing.  All are forbidden.
13. Violations of the Sunday Policy that occur at church will not be counted.
14. One of us should be wearing a shirt at all times.
15. And pants.
16. Eff it.  Anything goes as long as it’s too dark to see each other.
17. OMG.  Rule #16 is hereby rescinded and the “No Kissing Until Marriage Rule” is back in place.  Effective immediately!
18. In light of Rule #17, it is not prudent for us to accompany each other to any of the following places: movie theaters, parking lots, country roads, pay-by-the-hour motels, libraries, or mini vans.
19. It is not healthy for us to fight our natural, God-given instincts.  This relationship will no longer be bound by rules, it will be governed by love.  We will henceforth comport ourselves responsibly – in accordance with our upbringing and the guiding light of Scripture – without recourse to laws and systems of man’s devising.
20. We will get married quickly and quietly before her pregnancy becomes visibly apparent.

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The Honeymoon Stage

This month, you are going to experience VD. Now hold your horses, I’m not talking about that VD (no penicillin shots needed). I’m talking about the ancient Tanzanian holiday of Valentines Day. The day that tells your special someone “I love you enough to give you a card written by some other dude”. With that in mind, I, Benji Nelson, would like to talk to you about L.O.V.E..

Love. Two simple words that make the world go ’round.

Love. No matter what language you say it in, it’s pronounced differently. Read the full story

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This guide is going to be gender specific, but not because I’m sexist. That’s Kent, the other TTM founder/writer/bachelor extraordinaire. This guide is going to be gender specific because I am a dude, have always been a dude, and will always be a dude (barring some sort of horrifying punishment from God). I’m going to ASSume that this guide will be applicable to chicks too, but I’m sure that girl that put Kent in his place on that other article (Jen, you’re my hero!) will be able to tell me if I’m wrong or not. Here goes.

We’ve all been there before. There’s a girl. Let’s call her Michelle. That’s a hot name, but not like crazy, inaccessible hot. Michelle’s not just any girl. She’s smart, sweet, funny – gosh is she funny! – and caring. She’s an angel. When she came into your life, it’s like the sun was shining for the first time. And she’s a babe too, oh yes she is. She’s more beautiful than any woman you’ve ever seen, even in the movies or those Victoria’s Secret catalogs you stole from your sister. The two of you are inseparable. You hang out all the time, laughing, falling into piles of leaves, staring up at the stars as you talk about dreams of the future, and misreading each others signals and intentions. It’s just magical. You’re best friends, but you know that’s not all there is to it. Destiny put you two together when she sat next to you in math class/bumped into you at youth group/spilled a searing hot coffee on you at Starbucks, causing a piercing girl-scream to erupt from your mouth followed by an impressive repertoire of vulgarities. It was like something out of the movies; how could it end up as anything other than life-long love and the production of numerous fat, happy babies? You’re just biding your time until she looks longingly into your eyes and whispers “I want to know what love is. I want you to show me.” Oh man, how sweet that will be when it inevitably happens! But until then, how do you bide your time? Read the full story

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