“How many girls I’ve been with. I round the number down…significantly.” — Sam, 24
The guy I’ll end with won’t belong on paper. Because sparks are created on impulse, for no good reason, with no second thought.
If it evokes strong emotions, we call it poetry. If it produces a supreme sense of beauty, we call it poetry. You can attempt to shrug off the label, but those are all poetry in some way.
Should you move as close to the edge of the bed as possible? Should you sleep there at all? You look at him, not knowing the rules.
Maybe you scare them because you value yourself, because you’re strong enough to walk away and because you’re smart enough to know your worth. Maybe they got so used to being put on a pedestal that they don’t know how to be anywhere else.
The “one” isn’t waiting for you with the glass slipper that fits you perfectly. The one is someone you choose, because you know when you’re with them, that’s exactly where you want to be.
Just imagine if we had good conversation and it felt nice to kiss each other and you didn’t care about my Instagram followers or my acne scars or how many men I’ve slept with or the way I get in the morning before I’ve had coffee.
If you don’t, you will stay hung up on this feeling; you’ll remain in this sentimental limbo, playing “should I, or should I not” with yourself, and you have better things to do with your time than become a slave to your inner monologue.
Presence. We want you to be listening when we’re talking, and we will return the favor every time. We want you to be in the moment as much as possible, instead of constantly hooked up to your phone, computer, etc.
It’s feeling so broken that you can’t even feel anything at all. It’s being at a complete loss for words to say but all you want to do is talk to them.