Matt Joseph Diaz

This week on Mondays With Matt: Wearing a crop-top. And I have a NEW BELLYBUTTON.

We really want people to like us. It’s just human nature. You may say you don’t care if people like you, and on the surface, that may be true. However, there’s a part of you that understands that openly not caring about being liked immediately makes you more likable — self-assurance is an attractive quality to have.

I'm 23 years old, I don’t want children, and every elder who discovers this feels compelled to tell me how wrong I am about my own feelings.

You aren’t half of something waiting to be made whole — you’re a complete human being with your own important thoughts and ideas, looking for someone to add to your life. You're neither incomplete nor missing out on anything just because you’re single.

How embarrassing is this story, and is the value in it (be it entertainment, educational, or both) enough that the benefit in sharing it outweighs how mortifying it is?

We met Matt a year ago when he showed us his post weight-loss body.

There’s almost definitely a better way to begin this, but I can’t think of one more appropriate. Growing up is really fucking weird. One day you’re having a great time arguing if Doctor Doom would beat Darth Vader in a fight (he would,) and next thing you know you’re worrying about taxes and whatever a “mortgage” is.

"There is always someone who loves you. There is always someone who cares."

[CN: alcohol] Once we were in her apartment she grabbed me by the necktie, kissed me softly on the lips, told me to take my clothes off, and walked into her bedroom. Her clothing dropped to the ground piece by piece from where I stood to the bedroom — like some sort of Hansel and Gretel breadcrumb situation (if it were less creepy and filmed for Cinemax).

Being asked about my weight-loss “secrets” make me uncomfortable. It feels very different from people wanting to know about my story. It feels like being asked to provide a shortcut.