Suddenly, my life was all about timing. All the right things, said at all the wrong times. My past – coming back way too fast, and my future taking way too long to come home.
We could only wonder how she would be able to dust herself off and start over again. And yet we knew we couldn’t bear for her not to, and felt ever more optimistic that after all her struggles, she would someday meet her man, her equal a man with the same charisma, love of life, and humanity she possessed. In the meantime, she’d have her friends. And the knowledge that she deserved the world.
Maybe our girlfriends are our soul mates and guys are just people to have fun with.
And I’m worried…I, I’m afraid that he took away my ability to believe. And I hate him for that. Because I always believed before. And now I just feel lost. And I am, I’m trying to put myself out there, but I feel hopeless.
As we drive along this road called life, occasionally a gal will find herself a little lost. And when that happens, I guess she has to let go of the coulda-shoulda-woulda, buckle up, and just keep going.
I make mistakes. That’s what I do. I speak without thinking, I act without knowing. I drink so much that I can barely walk… I’m a fantastic lover though, and an amazing friend. God knows I mean well.
What if Prince Charming had never showed up? Would Snow White have slept in that glass coffin forever? Or would she have eventually woke up, spit out the apple, gotten a job, a healthcare package, and a baby from her local neighborhood sperm bank? I couldn’t help but wonder… Inside every confident, driven, single woman, is there a delicate, fragile princess just waiting to be saved?
She is my friend. She’s my family. My insides. She will be fine because she has to be fine. That’s how important she is to me.
That night I started to think about belief. Maybe it’s not even advisable to be an optimist anymore. Maybe pessimism is something we have to apply daily, like moisturizer, otherwise how do you bounce back when reality batters your belief system, and love does not, as promised, conquer all? Is hope a drug we need to go off of, or is it keeping us alive? What’s the harm in believing?
I would love to be one of those people who’s all: ‘we loved, thank you, you enhanced my life, now go, prosper,’ but I’m much more: ‘we didn’t work out, you need not to exist.’
I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love. And I don’t think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris.
Sex & The City
I realized I had just entered an interesting chapter in my life. I had outgrown the boys of my past and not quite grown into the men of my future.
And then I realized I do have faith. Faith in myself. Faith that I would one day meet someone who would be sure that I was the one.
Look I know that you’re probably scared, and I would be too, but it’s different now. Things are different. I’m, I’m different.
Some love stories aren’t epic novels, some are short stories. But, that doesn’t make them any less filled with love.
That’s the thing about needs. Sometimes when you get them met, you don’t need them anymore.
I admit it’s tempting to wish for the perfect boss, the perfect parent, or the perfect outfit. But maybe the best any of us can do is not quit, play the hand we’ve been dealt, and accessorize what we’ve got.
So now I’m gonna say it. I feel like, I’m back in your life, and nothing has really changed. And I know you can’t change a man, and you definitely can’t change a man like you, but, I still want something to change. A little bit. For me.
I wanted to go to him, but I felt like I was tied to the chair. Some part of me was holding me back, knowing I had gone too far, reached my limit.
Because being in an actual relationship means taking a risk, you know? It’s just, a leap of faith. No matter how many times one might have been disappointed in the past.
So just live, make mistakes, and have wonderful times. But never ever second guess who you are, where you have been, and most importantly, where it is that you are going.
I don’t believe this, now we are dumping guys for being too available? This is solid proof of the what I’ve been reading in a great new book. It says that if you really want to get married, you shouldn’t be spending so much time with dysfunctional women.
It doesn’t matter how much you have, if you don’t have a guy who cares about you, it don’t mean shit.
And, then something happened, for the first time, in a long time, I was nervous. Aiden and I were going to sleep together and it was going to mean something. I was no virgin, but this was definitely virgin territory.
The thing that gets me is that I’m not usually wrong about the phone number size up. I don’t put it out there unless I’m pretty damn sure it’s coming back.
It’s just…a feeling. I don’t know, something’s shifted. It’s like, um, maybe we both know that if we came together again it must be for a reason.
I miss you. Whenever something funny happens, I always wanna tell you about it.
I had a choice. I could run, or I could stand and ask him the question that if I didn’t ask, would haunt me for the rest of my life.
You can tell everything about a person by who their friends are.
If I’d known he was Catholic I never would’ve have gone out with him in the first place. They should make them where a sign.
After we made love I knew it was over. Did I ever really love Big or was I addicted to the pain, the exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable?
I’ve been dating since I was fifteen. I’m exhausted. Where is he?
Maybe, you don’t believe it’s for real, unless someone is playing hard to get.
There was no kneeling, there was no ring, no nothing. This is an awful engagement story. What am I going to say to my kids? Well, mommy really wanted to get married, so daddy said, alrighty. So un-romantic.
You know marriage doesn’t guarantee a happy ending, just an ending.
I got to thinking about relationships and partial lobotomies: two seemingly different ideas that might just be perfect together—like chocolate and peanut butter.
How can they have new relationships already? I’m still in the I just broke up with someone phase.
When you’re young, your whole life is about the pursuit of fun. Then, you grow up and learn to be cautious. You could break a bone or a heart. You look before you leap and sometimes you don’t leap at all because there’s not always someone there to catch you. And in life, there’s no safety net. When did it stop being fun and start being scary?
Maybe its maturity or the wisdom that comes with age, but the witch in Hansel and Gretel—she’s very misunderstood. I mean, the woman builds her dream house and these brats come along and start eating it.
I’ve done the merry-go-round. I’ve been through the revolving doors. I feel like I’ve met somebody I can stand still with for a minute. And don’t you want to stand still with me?
Being single used to mean that nobody wanted you. Now it means you’re pretty, sexy, and you’re taking your time deciding how you want your life to be and who you want to spend it with.
After all, computers crash, people die, relationships fall apart. The best we can do is breathe and reboot.
Welcome to the age of un-innocence. No one has breakfast at Tiffany’s and no one has affairs to remember.
I’ve come to realize guys are like drugs, either they’ll kill you or give you the most amazing high of your life.
Maybe there are no right moments, right guys, right answers. Maybe sometimes you just have to say what’s in your heart.
Men were born to lie, and women were born to believe them.
But we keep trying. Because you have to figure, if the world’s fattest twins can find love, there’s hope for all of us. Somewhere out there, there’s another little freak that will love us, understand us, and kiss our three heads and make it all better.
Practically all the relationships I know are based on a foundation of lies and mutually accepted delusion.
So many roads. So many detours. So many choices. So many mistakes.
When a relationship dies do we ever really give up the ghost or are we forever haunted by the spirits of relationships past?
When men attempt bold gestures, generally it’s considered romantic. When women do it, it’s often considered desperate or psycho.
Are we simply romantically challenged, or are we sluts?
When it comes to life and love, why do we believe our worst reviews?
As we speed along this endless road to the destination called who we hope to be, I can’t help but whine, ‘Are we there yet?’
Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies.
After all, computers crash, people die, relationships fall apart. The best we can do is breath and reboot.