I don’t mean to paint a bleak picture of humanity. Just because someone screws you over doesn’t mean the whole world is out to get you. Adopting a hard shell and a “One man is an island” attitude doesn’t do anyone favors, especially yourself.
It’s a specific kind of loneliness that hits you like a wave of nausea. When the two of you are having a beer and you realize that you have both been staring out the same window for twenty minutes, nothing to say, the opposite of a comfortable silence.
The social web is a kind of always on camera, ceaselessly capturing text and image — capturing imprints of ourselves — our likes and dislikes, the pages we view and how long we linger, the Yelps, the tweets, the reposts and shares and retweets and so on and so on.
Bad sex doesn’t become Bad Sex until you’ve actually had good sex. In fact, you could live your entire life thinking you were having the most mind-blowing sex until you meet someone who actually knows what they’re doing, and then you’re like “Oh, JK.” Sometimes good sex can be a curse though because when it gets taken away from you—and it always does — you’ll forever know its truest potential.
Roxicodone (Roxy, for short) comes in tiny blue pills. So tiny, in fact, that I would often lose them in my room and not find it until weeks later. Misplacing your drugs is always the worst feeling, but you could take solace in knowing that you would find them again when you were least expecting it and it would be the best surprise ever.
So I’ve never once had a relationship begin with something grand and romantic, like I came to expect from the movies, and I figured the same was true for most other people, as well. The opening lines of my relationships span from sweepingly idiotic to mundane, and while there are some sweet ones in there, too, they certainly don’t make up the majority — nor did they predict future success and compatibility.
Listen, I want you to truly appreciate my sustained effort to pretend to be a reasonable human being. I’ve gone days without texting you, multiple days without texting you, three whole days without texting you. The cumulative willpower illustrated by this should leave your mind utterly boggled, exceedingly boggled.
Don’t ever forget that the relationship you’re in is one you’ve chosen to be in, one that defines part of your life, for a week or a month, ten years, or maybe even forever.
He has really nice abs. But I only know because he’s shirtless in four of his seven profile pictures.
This weekend, when one of your friends texts you with promises of glory, of true love, and the possibility of dollar domestics — you say no. You say no, you gather up the scraps of your dignity, and you order a pizza.
Sometimes, when in situations like these, you find yourself in a conversation where the rules are that you have to keep making up these clever little witticisms to stay in the conversation. It is like a verbal game of ping pong.
The listing didn’t have an exorbitant number of exclamation points or asterisks, which was a pretty good sign. I mean, it wasn’t my first choice. But when you have no choice, last choice starts to look pretty good.
The universe becomes uncanny at its core, always shifting and realigning depending on how you look at it.
As confident and crisp as this how-to title sounds, what I impart below is not boastful advice based on personal success, but rather lessons learned from a less than stellar start with my wife’s mother.
The art director didn’t invent a negative connotation for this ad, your brain did. Take responsibility for that, if you’re upset about what you’re seeing.
Regular sexual intercourse two or three times a week, usually Thursday nights after The Office and on the weekend; Saturday date night dinner at ethnic fusion restaurant whose assimilation of Southeast-Asian or Latin flavors one earnestly abridges with “wow.”
I’m not making any argument for or against Facebook, or debating how much exposure to creating various profiles online should be deemed appropriate, but I have noticed that, in any case, the way young girls see themselves and the ways in which their self-image develops during puberty is probably and almost undeniably changing.
