For centuries, humanity has debated what makes someone irresistible.Is it charm? Intelligence? The ability to make a perfect cup of coffee at 7 a.m. without speaking a word?

Well, science is here to rain on the poetry parade with a firm, evidence-based conclusion: it’s strength.

According to a new study published in Evolution and Human Behavior, people with stronger upper bodies tend to have more sexual partners over their lifetimes.

Men with superior grip strength were not only more likely to have more romantic partners but also more likely to be in long-term, committed relationships.

Women with stronger upper bodies? Same deal—more partners overall.

Yes, folks. The humble hand grip, that unsung hero of physical fitness, might just be one of the biggest predictors of mating success.

Forget the six-pack and the chiseled jawline—the ability to squeeze stuff really hard is apparently the secret to love.

For many, the phrase Secure Attachment conjures up images of babies cradled in their parents' arms, forming bonds built on trust and responsiveness.

But what if you didn’t grow up with that security? Is it possible to develop a secure attachment style later in life, even after experiencing childhood trauma, neglect, or inconsistent caregiving?

The answer, according to decades of attachment research, is yes—and that’s where the concept of earned secure attachment comes in.

Unlike naturally occurring secure attachment, earned security is something developed over time, often through intentional relationships and deep self-reflection.

This post will explore the history, thought leaders, and research behind earned secure attachment while drawing connections to related concepts such as attachment-based therapy, polyvagal theory, neuroplasticity, post-traumatic growth, and relational resilience.

For decades, attachment theory has shaped the way we understand human relationships, from infancy to romantic partnerships.

Originating from John Bowlby’s (1969, 1982) work in the mid-20th century and further developed by Mary Ainsworth’s (1978) famous "Strange Situation" experiments, attachment theory has long categorized folks into Secure, Anxious, Avoidant, or Disorganized attachment styles.

However, as psychological research has expanded, new attachment models have emerged, challenging and refining these classic categories (Fraley & Roisman, 2019).

The Dynamic-Maturational Model of Attachment and Adaptation (DMM) is a cutting-edge framework that reshapes our understanding of relationships, attachment, and emotional regulation.

Developed by Patricia Crittenden, DMM builds upon the foundational work of John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, but expands their theories with a strong emphasis on how partners process information in response to danger and stress.

In the context of couples therapy, DMM offers profound insights into how attachment strategies shape relationship dynamics, conflict resolution, and emotional connection.

Once upon a time, before TikTok algorithms could decide our dating personas, people simply were.

Now, thanks to the vast neural net of social media, we find ourselves choosing between two archetypes that have taken over modern romance: Brat and Demure.

They are two sides of the same performative coin, and like all good internet memes, they probably started as a joke. But here we are.

Modern dating is no longer just about finding someone who shares your taste in pizza toppings or agrees that Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

No, gentle reader, it has evolved into a high-stakes game of psychological assessment, where your dating profile might as well include a diagnostic checklist.

As mental health awareness grows, individuals are placing greater emphasis on potential partners' emotional stability, therapeutic history, and overall psychological well-being. The question is, are we dating, or conducting intake sessions?

Imagine, if you will, that you are ten years old. Your parents hate each other.

You, by virtue of existing, are collateral damage.

A judge—a man who has never met you but has a desk covered in papers with your name scrawled on them—decides that you will sit in a room with the parent you do not wish to see.

Maybe they left. Maybe they screamed. Maybe they were terrifying in that quiet way, where love turned into something unrecognizable. No matter. The legal system has a gavel, and that gavel declares: reunification therapy.

What is Reunification Therapy?

In the grand cosmic sitcom that is human love, few plot twists are as deliciously absurd as divorce regret and remarriage.

Imagine this: after braving the bureaucratic Mount Doom of divorce—dividing the assets, explaining to Aunt Mildred that no, he didn’t cheat, you just couldn’t stand the way he chewed—some couples, like prodigal lovers, come marching back to the altar for a second go.

Is it romance? Is it Stockholm Syndrome? Let’s dive into this.

Somewhere in an alternate universe—or possibly just an Applebee’s on a Saturday night—neurotypical couples are having their version of a "perfect" date night.

There are candles, shared appetizers, and whispered sweet nothings that mean precisely nothing.

Meanwhile, our neurodivergent friends, God bless them, are trying not to be destroyed by the flickering fluorescent lights, the clatter of forks against porcelain, and the soul-crushing obligation to make direct eye contact for an extended period.

So, let’s get this straight: For some, traditional date nights are a capitalist hallucination.

For those whose nervous systems resemble a 1950s radio in a lightning storm, we need something else. Something better.

In the ever-evolving world of social media, relationship theories come and go like viral dance trends.

But one meme that’s making waves across TikTok and Instagram is the Blue Nail Theory—a phenomenon that has sparked heated debates, hilarious reactions, and even changed some nail salon decisions.

What Is the Blue Nail Theory?

For decades, the cultural expectation of new parenthood resembled a Hallmark fever dream—glowing parents, cooing babies, and uninterrupted bliss.

It took the field of psychology about fifty years to snap out of this delusion and realize that, for many couples, the transition to parenthood is about as blissful as assembling IKEA furniture in the dark while sleep-deprived.

In the 1950s and 1970s, researchers dared to suggest that new parenthood might not be a non-stop dopamine hit.

Their findings were met with skepticism because, horror of horrors, they found that many couples actually reported a decline in marital satisfaction (Twenge et al., 2003).

More recently, meta-analyses and longitudinal studies have confirmed what many sleep-deprived parents suspected: the transition to parenthood presents an existential challenge to marital satisfaction

For decades, ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder) has been understood through the lens of inattention, hyperactivity, and impulsivity—a classic trio that makes school, work, and relationships an uphill battle.

But what if we’ve been missing something?

What if the emotional rollercoaster—the meltdowns, the mood swings, the struggle to self-soothe—isn’t just a side effect of ADHD, but a core part of it?

New research published in Nature Mental Health suggests exactly that.

A study analyzing longitudinal brain data from the Adolescent Brain Cognitive Development (ABCD) Study found that emotion dysregulation is a key pathway to ADHD, potentially as important as the well-documented cognitive and motivational dysfunctions (Hou et al., 2024).

In other words, ADHD isn’t just about struggling to pay attention or sit still. It’s also about struggling to regulate emotions—a factor that may explain why standard ADHD medications don’t fully work for everyone.

So, what did the researchers discover? And what does this mean for treatment, diagnosis, and the way we think about ADHD? Let’s dive in.