“Mexico? Mmmm no. No.”

I added a few thumbs down emojis to the text and hit send. My friend Jen was asking me to jet off to Punta Mita in Nuevo Vallarta for a week and I was having none of it. The word “Vallarta” made my stomach lurch. In high school I’d gone to Puerto Vallarta three different times–it’s a quick flight from my SoCal hometown–and spent 90% of each getaway getting overly familiar with the hotel room’s toilet thanks to a bad pair of tacos. Or maybe the ice. Or maybe the water I brushed my teeth with. Or maybe just the country itself didn’t agree with me. All I knew was, I am hideously susceptible to food poisoning and Mexico was my greatest nemesis.

I knew when to raise the white flag.

But then Jen said the magic words: press trip.

The thing I love about press trips is that you really get to know the town. A lot of times, when left to my own devices in a relaxing locale, the most exploration I do is venturing to the far swim-up bar for another Miami Vice. I justify But on a press trip, they really make sure to teach you all about the area and check out things that the average tourist wouldn’t happen upon. Why, in Barbados we went to the ruins of a jewish temple. I’d never have meandered there on my own, but it really was cool to learn about that weird aspect of Bajan history.

So, like an ex too hot and crazy to forget about, I was getting sucked back in. I can’t quit you, Mexico!

Two weeks later, I was stuffing my sleeping bag of a winter coat in the deep recesses of a closet at the St. Regis Puta Mita. The region is a vacay favorite of the Kardashians and while I don’t consider them to be the epitome of good taste, those bitches know how to pick a destination…

The St Regis was one of, if not the most, beautiful resorts I’ve ever stayed at. But it isn’t cheap–the room I stayed in runs about $1350 per night, and came with my own private butler. I made him kill a bug for me :/ It also had an outdoor shower, which, if you haven’t experienced one, sounds kind of lame and whateverish. But then you come home after a day in the sun and realize that an al fresco shower is to hygiene what Nutella is to desserts: a game changer.

The balcony was just as amazing. Since it’s still the dead of winter in New York, I’m basically one more chilly day away from a Vitamin D deficiency tailspin. I keep waiting to get rickets. So, desperate for fresh air, I ended up sleeping on the daybed on the balcony in the balmy moonlight.

Every single Ask Shallon email I get is some variation on the theme of “How can I get a boy to like me?” I am a firm believer that you can’t, really, make someone like you. Think of it in reverse–think of a boy who you IN NO WAY want to make out with. What could he possibly do to change that? Chances are, nothing. It doesn’t mean he’s ugly or gross or mean or unlovable, there just isn’t that thing.

But. Suppose that a guy is kind of interested in you. You’ve caught him looking at you, flirting, making eye contact–all those non-verbal things that say he’s interested. How do you make him really like you, and, most importantly, ask you out?

One word: accessibility.

Boys view ALL of your friends as Regina George

WE may love Taylor, but guys think she's crazy.

Plus, and this is crucial, never EVER EVER nag a guy to ask you out. NEVER. People say that women are like cats, but really, boys are: you can’t pressure them to do anything. If you try to force them into something, they flee. You have to act like you totes don’t care if they ask you out/play with the cat nip you specifically bought. Don’t fall for this horseshit about “Ohhh durrr guys like it when girls take charge!” Yeah, lazy guys like that. Guys who don’t want to put themselves on the line by asking you out–they want you to take all the risk. That’s not a guy worth dating.

I hate this show and I hate this relationship

But if you master these two keys to accessibility then you won’t have to worry about asking him out–he’ll come to you, baby!

XO,

Dear Shallon,

The guy I have had a HUGE crush on for months and months finally asked me out! But, now I don’t know what to do. I’ve spent so long obsessing about him and getting advice that I don’t know how to actually act or keep him as mine. Help!

–Penguin in Florida

So...like...what happens next?

My Preturbed Penguin,

This is a great question: what do you do after you get what you’ve been obsessing over?! So few of us ever actually think about that. It’s like that line from Dark Knight that the Joker says: “I’m like a dog chasing a car–what would I do if I actually caught it?”

Firstly you have to accept the fact that you probably don’t know your crush all that well. I mean you kinda do but not in that super-close BF/GF kind of way. So that is what you do now: you get to know each other! How do you do that? You hang out, spend time together and talk. But even talking can be super awkward. This video will help a LOT:

How To Get To Know Your Crush

After you guys get to know each other a little bit, you can figure out what your common interests might be. At first, you’ll probably do fairly generic things like go to the mall, get lunch, go to the movies, etc, but talking will help you discover that–ta da!–you both love shooting shotguns! Or riding horses! Or making crepes! Ok probably not making crepes but you get the idea.

And then you can bond even deeper over those mutual interests. But the important thing to remember is to goooooo slooooowwwwly. Don’t rush and think that just because you’re “going out” or “together” it has to be this super serious romance. Take things one step at a time–otherwise you miss all the fun getting-to-know-you stuff!

XO,

Today we get a question from a dude bro who can’t figure out if his crush is crushing back or just playing games!

Hi Shallon,

Theres this girl that i like, she happens to be one of my good friends. We text sometimes and she occassionally sends flirty texts like “by the end of your training your gonna be like rocky with a 8 pack” when I told her I started boxing. But I’m not sure if she likes me more than a friend.  Also, I have a feeling she might like someone else…unsure tho.

–Kyron

Do NOT let yourself get here!

Dear Konfused Kyron,

Hmm…well I’ll tell you this: I am a VERY flirty girl but I would never ever send texts that are even REMOTELY flirtatious to a guy I wasn’t into. The last thing I’d want is to make him think I liked him, unless I was some kind of control freak sociopath. And who knows, she may be. One in 20 people are! Anyway, barring the sociopath thing, she probably is into you.

Paris Hilton is a sociopath. She is.

But she could also be into other dudes as well. In high school, girls (and guys) are just learning to use this weapon called flirting and sometimes they just wile out and flirt with too many dudes at once. But again, I don’t think that’s the case.I think she’s probably into you. But there’s only one way you can know for sure: ASK HER OUT.

What's the worst that could happen?

Yes, this will take guts, balls and other body parts but it’ll be worth it. If she says no, then boom, there’s your answer. Yeah it’ll hurt and feel gross but at least you’ll know! And then you can feel shitty for a week, sulk and then move on with your life.

But she could say yes. And how rad woud that be? But you’ll never know unless you just go for it.

XO,

I learned at age 19 that the phrase “I just returned from Europe” is in fact one of the more depressing sentences someone can utter. It seems like a chic and jet-setty thing to burble out at a party, but really, if you’ve been to Europe, you know that the worst thing about it is having to leave. And come home.

To your job.

And your regular life.

Which is pretty devoid of hot European men.

And Nutella.

So here I am, just returned from Europe. And I am sad

The beautiful boot

Quick note: I know my photo game is usually on point, but I couldn’t find a common theme or filter for all my pics, so I’m just going to let each one stand on their own, so excuse the non-uniformity of the photos. What can I say? Italy is too diverse for just one photography style!

For the past six days I was on hand for the maiden voyage of the MSC Preziosa, a state-of-the-art, over-the-top luxurious cruise ship that sailed from Genoa to Naples then on to Sicily.

Nice ride!

The week-long celebration was hosted by Sophia Loren and catered by the chefs at Eataly. Admittedly, cruise ships are not usually my thing, especially if the weather isn’t warm enough for laying out and swimming. Plus, when I was eight we took a cruise to the Bahamas aboard the Disney vessel, and it caught fire. We had to abandon ship. So, not a great experience.

But when I received a press invite to this particular cruise–around Europe–I knew I couldn’t turn it down. I have had only great experiences in Italy. It’s the leaving I couldn’t handle.

You may not know, but I lived in Florence when I was four and then studied abroad in Rome during college. My time in Rome was perhaps the most formative experience I’ve ever had. It’s always just seemed too painful, cleaning out the house of a dead loved one.

In a way, Rome was my first introduction to true, grown up sadness. Those few months in Italy were the best of my life, truly, but they were like a decade–full of fast friendships, thunderous fights, love won and lost–condensed down into half a year, thrust into tight Italian pants, and coated with Parmesan cheese. Coming back to the states was pure torture, so much so that I haven’t been back to Italy since.

But how could I pass up this trip? I couldn’t. Something in me had been waiting for just the right way to revisit my beloved Italy, and this was it.

It’s not just the boys who are beautiful in Italy

It was absolutely magical, truly wonderful. Actually, in a strange way, it was disappointing. I was struck by how un-foreign Europe seems to me now that I live in New York.

The problem is, Manhattan is a thousand countries in and of itself–a myriad of languages, food options, small snaking streets and historic buildings. Not even the overseas shopping, which once had an almost heroin-like effect on me, was particularly diverting.

Oddly, the most foreign place on earth has become my SoCal hometown, Irvine, with its uniformly fragrant streets, lush manicured landscaping and equally well-groomed citizens. It’s as if a luxury spa got a bee in its bonnet and decided to become a full city.

Anyway. Genoa!

The Genoa harbor: stormy and stunning!

It’s one of those Italian cities that gets overlooked in favor of the Beyonce’s of Europe like Rome and Florence. Genoa is Michelle. And you know what? Michelle is worthy!

If it ain’t Baroque, why fix it?! (sorry)

Genoa (like Michelle) is quiet and unassuming so it’s easy to think she doesn’t have much to contribute. But she boasts secretly stunning churches, teeny little pastry shops and a harbor that can be quite lovely if you run it through enough filters.

With the right filter, it aaaaalmost looks like St Tropez! (almost)

But admittedly, it’s not worth seeing unless your itinerary makes you. The harbor is grimy, the worthwhile shops few, and not much in terms of museums or culture. If anything, see it first thing when you arrive in Italy so you won’t have anything else to compare it to.

The other girls I met on the press trip—who I can already tell will be my girls for life!—had interviews and tastings and whatnot to conduct aboard the ship, so I struck out on my own, meandering around and eating like I was going to the electric chair. No carb left behind!

Some people bring home tee shirts. I bring home diabetes.

I also became exactly what I detest and morphed into one of those tourists who INSIST on using public transit. In NYC, this baffles me.

“Just take a cab!” I plead with them, but no, they are hellbent on navigating the greasy bowels of the NYC subway just so they can save $10 on a taxi to Ground Zero.

But I realized, it’s not about being cheap, necessarily. It’s a challenge and you feel compelled to conquer it. So, I trotted down to the Genoese subway and forced myself to figure it out.

Subway warrior!

And I did. I know it sounds like such a simple, almost laughable “victory” but when I emerged from the tube station to see those medieval streets greeting me, my heart soared. I just got the chills at how lame that was but it’s true. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I felt like I was home, back on the continent, back having adventures, growing and exploring the way I used to!

I stumbled upon some amazing churches!

This church’s mildly grimy exterior gave way to one of the most stunning cathedrals I encountered!

Even better, I was pleasantly surprised at how well my Italian held up. Although it’s nothing like it used to be. I used to be practically fluent, and now it’s deteriorated into a mumbling patchwork of un-conjugated verbs and skittering nouns. But, I still got along just fine.

We spent the next few days at sea, quickly growing bored with the ship and it’s not-quite-fully-operational food options. Advice: avoid a maiden voyage. It’s better to wait until the kinks have been worked out. But even with the kinks…this floor:

Diamonds on the soles of her shoes

Overall, if you find yourself on this particular ship and in this particular city, fine. But don’t go out of your way to make it happen. While you want to love Michelle, there’s a reason Beyonce is the queen.

And then, before I knew it, the trip was over and I was headed back to NYC. And yes, I’m sad, but in a way laced with accomplishment, like muscle soreness after the gym. Yes, I missed Europe, but I’d finally conquered my decade-long anxiety about returning. I had faced my grief and come out the other side. And on the other side is Nutella

Shallon the adventurer is back.