I can’t have this halfsies, this sort-of-love, this relationship without a relationship because it’s not real. I can’t act like I understand this whole ‘casual’ thing, like dating for mere fun and nothing else makes sense to me. Because it doesn’t at all.
When he tells you he’s not ready, listen to what he’s saying. Don’t look for the exception. Don’t try to find a loophole.
Drunk sex should be reserved for people you trust a bit more than someone you’ll want to immediately call an Uber for.
“In the long run, of course I would like to find the right long term relationship. Right now… it’s complicated.”
When did “dating” become “hanging out”? The concept has more or less ruined the last remaining crumbs of true courtship for us singletons. But pull these moves next time someone tries to “hang,” and you’ll come out on top.
As long as both parties keep an open line of communication and respect each other, I don’t see a problem with pseudo-dating. And don’t be afraid to let casual mean something, either. Since when did meaning something to someone become a bad thing?
I’ve tried talking to multiple boys pretending that they’re interchangeable, purposely ignoring the ones that make my pulse race for fear of getting close enough and, eventually, hurt. But I refuse to do this any longer.
Sure, sex in your bed is comfortable, cozy, private, and you can cuddle after, but you’ve probably had sex in your room 100 times.
While the idea of having the simple little black dress, the mix and match t-shirts and the perfect clutch purse sounds great, when I look into my closet, I find a fair share of unique and somewhat odd items.
They might not be for everyone, but the somewhat-string-attached relationship can really be a boon to one’s everyday existence, if done in a responsible and mature manner