What Your Favorite Game Of Thrones Character Says About You, Part 1

Here are my suggestions about what your favorite Game of Thrones character might say about who you are.
Here are my suggestions about what your favorite Game of Thrones character might say about who you are.
But let’s be honest — it’s kind of weird. Most ASMR-ers are in the closet about this, because how in the world would you interject it into a conversation?
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.
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.
From dawn until dusk, the kids of that show just ran around what appeared to be Harlem, or one of Brooklyn’s less artisan cheese shop-filled neighborhoods, with complete impunity.
Before Teen Mom, before My Super Sweet 16, there was Engaged and Underage: the perfect program to watch with your parents when you needed to convince them that cutting school and sneaking cigarettes wasn’t the worst thing you could do at 15.
People romanticize the past all out of proportion, but the past can still be our lives. Taking up smoking will help teach you this: for smoking is an attempt to master time.
I mean, I’m pretty much the picture of sexual health unless, I dunno, maybe I get drunk or kind of high and she has good eye makeup and it’s a public restroom or library or rooftop and the weather’s decent and — okay, so I’ve made some mistakes, but this is the price I pay for it?
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.
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.”
An overpriced cell for the overachiever, the minimalist apartment gets its name because it’s inhabitant either a. doesn’t have space for frivolities like, say, a bedside table or b. cannot afford furnishings due to spending over two-thirds of their income on inflated rent/ mortgages.
In order to bag a Princess/live happily ever after/be a hero, princes have to be: ripped, two weeks away from coming into their inheritance, live in a castle, and have a face like looking directly at an orgasm.
“It’s me,” we think, “if I lived in 60’s Manhattan and had limitless access to workplace booze and bored housewife panties.” But what does your favorite character actually say about you — the real you, living in boring old 2012?
Here, a primer for when your future children want to know what the hell you were doing with your boxy, multicolored electronics.
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.
Moving on is like this: one day you forget the taste. The next, you forget the smell. Then the touch. Then the laugh. Then the smile. Then the jokes. Then the eyes, the hair, the hands, the feet. You forget the socks. You forget the fingers, the toes, the sex.
You’re not over this person probably because they could never love you back the way you wanted them to, the way you needed them to. They were a defective toy that couldn’t be fixed at the shop. This made you so angry and so sad and you tried just so damn hard and everyone knew it but it didn’t work.
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.