Thought Catalog


15 Reasons Your Childhood Sweetheart Makes a Great Adult Love

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 08:00 PM PDT

Twenty20, prozipix
Twenty20, prozipix

1. He understands where you came from because your hometown was his hometown. You went to the same schools, had the same teachers and hung out with the same kids. Your house was just like his house and you got pizza and Chinese food from the same restaurants. Your after school options mirrored his and you often ran into him (on purpose) at your local library. His idea of "home" is closely aligned with yours because you grew up in the same environment and the same "side of the tracks." As adults, you'll be more likely to understand how and where you want to live because you understand where you came from.

2. He knows your family. Childhood crushes often get vetted by family members way earlier than adult relationships. Your sweetheart may have taken you on your first date, escorted you to your first school dance, or visited on weeknights for dinner. Since you probably couldn't even drive yet when you got together, your relationship relied on your family's ability to transport you to and from seeing your crush, even if they were just dropping you off at the movies and forbidden by you to come anywhere within sight. Your crush understands your family dynamics and your relationships with your parents and siblings so he understands you that much better.

3. He was your first practice at good flirtation. You didn't know how to hide your red cheeks when he smiled at you. You thought of things to say to him at the off chance you’d pass him in the hallway or sat near him at lunchtime. You chatted with him for hours after school and seemed to have unlimited time to focus on getting to know him. As an adult, you know who he is. You have the basis for a natural attraction that can develop into the perfect combination of thrilling and dependable.

4. He had to ask permission to take you out. There were limits on how often you could see him. This made your time together more valuable. You would both look forward to it because it was hard to come by. In the adult world, not having barriers to jump into a relationship often causes regret and insecurity. By having those restrictions early on, you've grown to respect and appreciate your time together, which makes for a strong relationship as an adult.

5. You most likely grew up loving the same sports teams. This can be vital for the survival of an adult relationship. The likelihood of two diehard sports fans living together while supporting arch rivals, will prove very difficult.

6. Whatever drove you to each other as innocent kids will connect you forever. You always remember your first love—how you counted down the seconds to see him, how you thought about him when a certain song played on the radio, how you lived from folded note to folded note (or text to text). In your adult life, you yearn for that pure connection to another human being. As life gets more complicated, you'll yearn for the innocence you once felt with your childhood crush.

7. You were probably great friends since you've literally watched each other grow up and know everything about each other. You know what subjects he liked at school, who his best friends were and how good he was at kickball. You gravitated towards each other for your similar interests, many of which have carried over into your adult lives. It's easier to strike up the connection once again when you know and understand what makes a person tick.

8. You understand each other’s family values. You have similar objectives in terms of raising your own family since you were practically raised alongside each other. This familiarity has always enabled you to trust each other and it can be the foundation of an exceptionally strong future together.

9. Your ideas about what love is are based on your experiences with each other. You look back fondly on your childhood, envisioning yourself as the Winnie Cooper to his Kevin Arnold. You've found that the basic qualities about yourself and the people you held dear growing up have always stayed true. Your values have always been consistent and are extremely compatible with the person

10. Geography is in your favor, particularly if you both loved where you grew up. You won't have to shift time zones or coasts to plant your own roots together, a tough predicament if you end up falling for someone who grew up on the opposite end of the country (or planet!). If your families have stayed put, this is great news for them as well—they won't have to go far to visit you and you won't have to travel far to visit your in-laws.

11. You always know what the other’s thinking. You've been reading each other's minds for years already. When you encounter an issue, you immediately know what your mate is thinking because you've memorized every expression on his face and what it means. You're best friends without even thinking about it and you couldn't imagine facing life without your childhood soulmate.

12. He was the first person you were physically attracted to. No matter how old he gets, how much weight he gains, how much hair falls out of his head—he's your person. He made your heart flutter. He’s the one you dreamed about at night, the one you swore you'd love forever. You have a song together. You have little gifts he gave you. That devotion doesn’t disappear with age and as an adult, you'll look for those qualities and that feeling you had with this person in subsequent relationships. When you meet up as adults, your mind will still be wired to seek someone with his qualities. So why not let it be him?

13. You were probably each other’s first kiss. Will you ever forget that? You long to go back to that space and time where kissing was the most exciting thing you'd done that year. An easier time—when your home, electricity and meals were all paid for. That first kiss with that first love was pure magic—no matter how awkward it was. When you get to take your childhood romance to the adult level, it's a whole new ball game.

14. Your family already knows him. This saves you from a lot of probing questions and a thorough investigation when you decide it's time to fill them in on the fact that you're dating an old crush. They most likely already know who he is and where he came from. They might even know his family. He's not some stranger you picked up at a bar or met online. He was your first real boyfriend and potentially you're last.

15. He knows your entire history and accepts you for it—even the braces, feathered bangs, and bad skin. You've both come to realize that there are an infinite number of attractive, smart prospects available in the world. But the love what brews between two adults who started out as childhood sweethearts is the most special love of all. TC mark

How To Have Mind Blowing Sex

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 07:00 PM PDT

santiago__cervantes
santiago__cervantes

Look at yourself in the mirror naked. Look at your skin and your stomach and your pores and every bump and crease that is undeniably a part of you. Feel the slope of your chest and the curves of your hips and love them, love yourself. Remember that there is another person who is literally hard, literally wet thinking about seeing you in all of your nakedness. So look at something you would call a flaw, know they never would, and simply think, "You're welcome."

Take every piece of your partner in, no pun intended. After you've seen yourself in your most basic form, really study. Really see them: the scars from a past fall or injury, the freckles that dance across their collarbones like constellations. The way their hair frames their eyes on your pillows. The way their mouth curves and quivers when you put your hand just there. Look at them, pay attention to them. And they will reciprocate.

Experience every moment. The way the sheets slide down your waist and pool around your hips, the coolness of the metal headboard when you grab it for balance, the tickling of the little hairs around their jaw line when you cup it in the palm of your hand. The way your stomach drops in the best way when their fingertips climb oh-so-softly up the back of your thigh. Don't simply go through the motions; find new moments and tuck them away to pull out when you want and need your core to flip and your cheeks to flush again.

Take your time. Sometimes a quickie is what you need, all heated and rushed, causing all of your blood to rush to your cheeks and get you to the finish line as quickly as possible. But lengthen every graze of your fingers, every touch from your lips, every lick by just a fragment, just a second. Feel every single shudder, every arch and tense of their muscles. Soak in them as they're happening, as you're making them happen. Grasp every part of them; their wrists, legs, ankles, neck. Realize how it takes the two of you and revel in it a little, or a lot.

Kiss every part of them and savor each every piece of skin. The salt from their sweat on their back, the faint traces of the day on their shoulders. The smells and tastes that are exclusively their own. Take every opportunity to tell them with your words and your mouth and your tongue what you want from them. And don't stop until their voice is raw and hoarse from moaning their thanks.

Say what you want. Don't make your needs a guessing game. The only thing you should be straddling is their lap and face, never a line of ambiguity. Get exactly what makes your eyes roll back into that place of perfect, spontaneous blackness and your cries to come out from a place you forgot existed. Clutch the sides of the bed or, better yet, their sides as you explode into a burst of yourself. Moan your own thanks; I promise they'll be full of their own welcomes.

Make no apologies. You work hard during the day at school or work or wherever. You are a perfectly animalistic creature filled with atoms and hormones and nerve endings and stars and deserve to satisfy yourself. You should never worry about being too loud, too turned on, too needy, or about asking for something that society says you "shouldn't." There's plenty of time and plenty of things to worry about from day to day; there's not room for any worries during sex.

And after you're both shaking, you're both spent, you're both covered in that sweat that is simultaneously hot and cold take it all in again take time to acknowledge how awesome it is that you just did that. And then after twenty minutes: lather, rinse, repeat. TC mark

When You Realize That Your First Love Just Might Be Forever

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 06:00 PM PDT

azriayob
azriayob

It feels serious, now.

We've been "together" in some nebulous capacity for eight months (I just did the math). Dating, officially, for half. Eight months—four of those a real a couple—and now, it feels serious.

We were gonna break up. I was going back to school and he was about to start his career—it would all be too complicated, so we were gonna simplify before the whole thing got ahead of us. We were gonna break up so that the distance didn't tear us apart. I comforted myself with what, for most of these eight months, I've held true: I love him, but I'm barely 21, and this is my first real relationship—there's no way, as a 21st century semi-militant feminist, that I'm going to stay with him forever.

I won't delude myself into thinking this is forever, because I'm not sure I'd want to be.

I didn't really fear the inevitable breakup, because it was just that: inevitable. I'm in love or madly in lust or whatever you want to call it but no matter how deep I've dug myself, we're gonna break up eventually, right? Because I'm barely 21, and this is my first real relationship; we're gonna break up, because that makes sense. I won't delude myself into thinking this is forever, because I'm not sure I'd want to be; no matter how in love I am, I've gotta live life how my mom's always told me to. I've gotta know other people. I've gotta fuck other people. I've gotta love other people—and if this love with him is right, it'll all lead back to us.

When he first told me he loved me, see, that's how I conceptualized love. That's what love meant for me, with him; that I care about him so deeply that even though I know we'll break up, eventually, I can see myself with him five or ten years from now, when we're older and dating for keeps. When we're after that someone who we'll build a life with. That's what I thought three months ago, when we first exchanged I love yous. I don't think that way anymore.

All I'm saying is, damn, the breakup doesn't seem so inevitable anymore. And I'm not so sure I've got to live and fuck and love another before I make my way back to you.

It feels serious, now. It feels like maybe, it could be forever.

And if you're reading this: breathe. I'm not picking out baby names or scribbling Mrs. Tati [Your Last Name] all over my binders…partially because I'm not interested in marriage, yes, but mostly because that kind of forever is still ages away. We're far from that forever, still—we've got whole lives to live before we consider a permanent us.

All I'm saying is, damn, the breakup doesn't seem so inevitable anymore. And I'm not so sure I've got to live and fuck and love another before I make my way back to you.

All I'm saying is, damn, it feels serious, now. I'm growing up with you and I'm learning this love that no longer has an unwritten expiration date.

All I'm saying is, damn, maybe we'll live those lives before forever, together.

All I'm saying is, damn, if we're doing this long distance thing—if we're sweating to carve out time for each other when we're apart and our schedules are relentlessly out of sync—if we're risking hating each other because the love is that good…damn, it feels serious now. It feels like, if we work through this painful year of stealing a night or two together every four-to-six weeks—and barely talking in between because talking's hard when one of you works an 18-hour day and the other splits her time evenly between drinking, sleeping, and light reading—we must be working through this shit towards something, right? Right. Because otherwise, why the hell would we bother?

All I'm saying is, damn, maybe we'll live those lives before forever, together. Maybe we'll spend our twenties by each other's side and support one another through the shitty, exhausting first installations of our careers and then unwind together when we have more time to kill and then thirty will come and, damn, there we'll be: us, together. Maybe. I'm not thinking kids or a beach house with our hyphenated last names on the doormat or a dog (definitely not a dog), I'm not.

All I'm saying is, damn, maybe forever's not so far off for this first love, after all. TC mark

6 Real Reasons You Still Can’t Get Over Him

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 05:00 PM PDT

Flickr / Nicki Varkevisser
Flickr / Nicki Varkevisser

No matter how toxic (and pointless) it is to continue pining for an ex, most women have a near impossible time letting go and moving forward.

Let's say you had a job where you felt perpetually stressed, anxious, and miserable. You put in all you could, even if it came at the expense of your ego and sometimes, your sanity. And let's say you got fired from that job. Yes, being unemployed is scary so at first you'll feel upset and worried, but you will also probably feel relieved. You'll realize it was for the best and will be thankful that you are now free to find a job that is better suited for you, one where you will feel valued and appreciated. You won't spend sleepless nights pining for that old job, wondering what went wrong and what else you could have done. You'll realize, with perfect clarity, that it wasn't the right place for you.

Now let's say you're in a relationship where you feel perpetually stressed, anxious, worried, and miserable. You put everything you have into making it work, you give it your all, even at the expense of your dignity and emotional well-being. You put up a good fight, but it's not enough and he breaks up with you. You were miserable with him, and now you're even more miserable without him. You spend months, maybe even years, pining away.

Unfortunately, a relationship is hard to view through the same objective lens as a job.

With relationships, it's not just our emotions that get involved, it's our egos, our past pain, our childhood traumas, our insecurities, our fears. Everything gets activated and when the bomb detonates, it can take months or years to clear the wreckage.

As a result, when a relationship ends it's not just the other person that's missing, a lot of pieces of yourself also need to be retrieved. Many people make the mistake of thinking that the reason they're so sad after a breakup is because they genuinely miss their former partner. This is true to an extent, but it's far from the whole picture. The pain we feel comes from several sources, and most have nothing to do with the ex himself.

Here are the real reasons it's so hard to get over him:

1. You think you’ll never find anyone as amazing as him

This is the biggest breakup myth of all and the reason most people find it so hard to get over their first love. They cling to the belief that since they never experienced anything like that before, they never will again.

You convince yourself that no other man on the planet has the same qualities as him and thus, you have two choices: get him back or settle for someone who will never measure up. I hope you can recognize the absurdity in this! Will you meet someone else exactly like him? No, because no two people are exactly alike and even still, you and he broke up proving someone exactly like him is not exactly what you need. You won't find someone with his exact qualities….you will find someone even better and more compatible with you.

2. You were infatuated

Most people confuse true love with infatuation even though these two concepts couldn't be more different. Love is about realistically seeing who the other person is, flaws and all, and appreciating the entire picture. It doesn't make demands or need things to be a certain way, it grows and flows effortlessly creating an environment where both people bring out the best in one another.

Infatuation is about creating an unrealistic image of who the other person is and turning him into some supreme, perfect being. The biggest sign you're infatuated is if you can't find a single flaw in the other person. Infatuation usually happens because you have a void in your life that he fills. You don't feel good enough about yourself and this supreme being shows interest in you, making you feel desirable and worthy, and you cling to him for more of that feeling.

His approval makes you feel OK…it makes you feel "good enough," at least temporarily. Since he gives you something you need so desperately, you become terrified of losing him, and then the panic sets in…what if he loses interest? How can I keep him?

You let him get away with as much bad behavior as he wants because you're too afraid to call him out and risk losing him. As he retreats, you do anything in your power to reel him back in. You're in a relationship where you're not being treated the way you want, and yet, you can't rip yourself away. So you stay.

Eventually it ends leaving you more fractured and empty than before. You continue to idealize him and think the only way you'll ever feel better is if he comes back. Self-love always starts from within, it can never be attained from the outside. Until you realize this, you will remain in heartbreak's unrelenting grip.

3. You sold yourself out.

This ties into being infatuated. In unhealthy relationships, we will often "sell ourselves out" in an effort to make it work. Selling yourself out means accepting behavior that you would otherwise consider unacceptable, or attempting to be someone your not. Maybe you don't speak up anymore, maybe you aren't the same bubbly, confident person you once were, maybe you put him and his needs above your own.

The emotional devastation you feel after a breakup is usually proportional to the extent you sold yourself out. When these relationships end, you will often feel like a piece of you is missing, like you aren't whole. It's a miserable, almost sickening feeling. You might feel like getting him back is the only cure, but it's not. What you need to do is look at yourself and really try to determine why it is you accepted such poor treatment for so long, and what steps you can take to avoid getting into a situation like this again.

4. You miss the way he made you feel

Most of the time, it's not the guy you're missing…it's the feelings you experienced when you were with him. You miss the intimacy, the closeness, the feeling of being desired and admired. You miss the way he made you feel more than who he actually is.

There is almost always a period of withdrawal after an important element of our life is gone. Whether it's your decision to make the excision or not, there will suddenly be a void and you may feel unbalanced as you try to cope without the thing that was once there to fuel you. It's like quitting coffee or cigarettes. At first you think you'll never be able to make it through the day without your "fix." It will definitely be hard at first, but when you push past the initial discomfort, you will be able to function just as well, or even better, than before!

When you go through a breakup, you may be missing the feeling of being loved and cared for. To fill this empty space, surround yourself with people who genuinely care about you and love you for who you are. Focus on re-building your life in a way that makes you feel fulfilled and content with who you are. You probably relied on him to give you a feeling of worth, and now it's time to take ownership and give it to yourself.

5. You gave up your life

A boyfriend can often quickly go from being a part of your life to being your entire life. You stop seeing your friends as much, doing hobbies you enjoy, pursuing your passions. You want to spend every free moment with him and can't pry yourself away. It feels like he's your everything…because he is! And when "everything" leaves, you're left with nothing. You feel empty, like a piece of you is missing.

The fact is, a lot of pieces of you are missing and he isn't the final magical puzzle piece. It starts with re-building your life and making it full and balanced. When you drop other elements of your life and have your guy fill that space, you will have a huge hole once he leaves you. Realize that this hole isn't because he was the other half of your soul, but rather because you threw a lot of important elements of your life overboard.

6. You took it too personally

A lot of the time, the pain we feel after a breakup is really the throb of a severely bruised ego. Rejection hurts, even if it had nothing to do with you it can still sting and make you feel like you're somehow not good enough. Sometimes two people just aren't a match, it's as simple as that. Sometimes both people can see this with perfect clarity, and sometimes only one person does. TC mark

This post originally appeared at A New Mode

11 Reasons People Who Speak More Than One Language Are Simply Better At Life

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 04:15 PM PDT

Twenty20 / daniela.darlene
Twenty20 / daniela.darlene

There are more bilingual and multilingual people in the world than there are monolingual people. This may be difficult to believe if you live in many parts of the United States. Indeed, there’s that joke about bilingualism, multilingualism, and monolingualism which ends by saying that the latter can just be called, “American.”

Growing up elsewhere, it’s always been a source of fascination to me that many (White) Americans are often fascinated by people who speak multiple languages. In many cultures I grew up in or visited as a third culture kid, that was the norm; it is the norm.

Living in more monolingual spaces in the United States than not, has given me a great appreciation for multilingualism, as well as made me rethink the hegemony of the English language throughout the world. And while I don’t think anyone who speaks more than one language is a source of fascination, (I only start getting intrigued if you speak more than four and do so well.) I do think speaking more than one language makes you get a lot more out of life for a number of reasons:

1.

Speaking more than one language automatically means that you have access to more than one culture. Of course one language can give you access to more than one culture too. So if that is true, think of what two or more can do for you?

2.

In my experience and the experience of other multilingual or bilingual people I know, you tend to adapt easily to new environments. This is because for you, the learning process of picking up the language – including the colloquialisms – is seen as a source of survival.

3.

You tend to have a better understand of intercultural differences and the nuances of different subcultures within an entire culture. This basically means that seeing things through multiple perspectives is a more default experience for you.

4.

You approach life the same way you approach(ed) learning new languages: That you’re going to make some mistakes but doing so is better than not trying at all. Moreover, speaking more than one language has taught you something about perfection in language and otherwise (that monolingual people often miss): It is impossible to perfectly grasp any one single language. Progress, however, is attainable.

5.

Science says that bilingual and multilingual people have stronger thinking skills. This is due to higher levels of cognitive brain function that comes from switching from one language to the next. The same research has also suggests that you are more likely to be protected against Alzheimer’s disease.

6.

You will likely better understand more of the diversity the world has to offer than monolingual people. From music to literature to jokes (that translation can have an adverse effect on), you will simply just get to participate in more of the world because of your bilingualism or multilingualism.

7.

You’ll have a way more complex personality and identity because language and culture affects those things. I notice this in myself and among others even when I’m engaging in just mere dialects and certainly in different languages. For example, I’ve always noticed how I become more dramatic and jovial when I’m conversing in African languages. When I speak French however, (probably due to my lack of regular practice) I am much more reserved.

8.

You tend to approach new things with curiosity rather than fear. Whether it’s participating in facets of culture that are new or irregular or meeting people you’ve never encountered, multilingual people tend to be more keen to know, rather than to distinguish.

9.

You take more risks from travel and living choices, to trying new foods or learning new things. Because language and culture are intertwined, speaking more than one language tends to make you less afraid to just pack up and go to wherever your heart is calling or do something different if you feel your life needs a change.

10.

You’re probably more creative when it comes to work, hobbies, and life situations in general. Not only are you more likely to enjoy a greater diversity of things, you are more likely to create new and interesting ideas or to mix things up in new and different ways, if the environment allows for it of course. A minor example from my personal life: The “root” for most of my passwords is a combination of words from three languages. It’s pretty much impossible to crack.

11.

In being multilingual, you become a certain kind of personification of cultural dynamicity and exchange. You’ll always have access to what it’s like to be an outsider looking in, as well as an insider looking out. And well, it kind of makes you understand the importance of making other people know that it’s okay to be different; and that they are never alone in their difference. TC mark

6 Tips For Dating A Guy Who’s More Girly Than You Are

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 04:00 PM PDT

Twenty20 / NickBulanovv
Twenty20 / NickBulanovv

When news hit that Natalie Portman home-wrecked her way into the arms of a ballet dancer, it didn’t have us thinking about infidelity or Swan Lake; rather, girly men.

We can’t be certain Benjamin is of the scented candles and bubble bath variety; for all we know, he pounds Budweiser, watches football, and vanishes at the words “Can we talk?” But there’s a chance (maybe it’s the tights?) that Ben is a stay-at-home and watch Gilmore Girls reruns type of a guy, which can be refreshing.

After a string of Alpha Males it might be nice to have a shopping companion and dedicated listener at your side. Why not? Here’s a handy guide:

1. Approach sex slowly.

Years of dating Hot Masculine Guy Who Forgets To Call may have worn down your ability to place value on sex. Well, you can discard the Tough Girl facade with your new Girly Man.

He likely won’t want to rush sex and will be happy to lie in bed cuddling. He understands the plight of the single woman and will wait until you feel comfortable. He’s extra sensitive to your emotions, and the wait will be well worth it in the end.

2. Take off your shoes.

Be sensitive to his inherent sense of organization, cleanliness, and aesthetics. It’s likely you’ll have to follow his “socks only” househould rule, use a coaster, and help him tidy up. Hey, at least you won’t have to worry about something rotting in his fridge.

3. Don’t be jealous of all his female friends.

If he’s a true Girly Man, it’s likely he has a harem of pretty female friends always writing on his Facebook wall and commenting on his every whim. Resist the urge for envy.

It’s likely he’s never slept with any of them — or tried, even. Girly Men tend to attract women like bears to honey. What girl doesn’t want a platonic male friend who isn’t trying to bed her? It’s like all the best things about having a gay friend plus the inside intelligence of straight guy mind.

4. Don’t tell him you thought he was gay.

Your Girly Man has been getting the “Are you gay?” question since he packed a crust-less PBJ into his lunchbox and hopped on the school bus. It isn’t a nice world out there for the effeminate straight guy, so don’t follow the pack and giggle about how you thought he was a homosexual on dates one through five.

5. Don’t make fun of his need to primp.

Girly Men tend to notice details when it comes to clothing and grooming. He probably has an impeccable closet, and he likely knows as much about face cream as you. No need to point and laugh at his “me time” with the mirror. Instead, be happy you’re with a guy who takes care of himself. Just treat his apartment like a waiting room and bring a book.

6. Don’t try to set him up on “boy dates.”

As per #4, he may not have a lot of bros on his recent cell phone call log. He’s aware of this, and unless he complains about the lack of testosterone, don’t set up play dates like an overbearing mother. Just don’t. TC mark

YOURTANGO

Getting Joy Out Of Murder: Serial Killer Israel Keyes And His Addiction

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 03:00 PM PDT

Youtube
Youtube

On December 2, 2012 officers in an Anchorage, Alaska jail found confessed serial murderer Israel Keyes, 34, dead in his cell. He had committed suicide, apparently by first slashing his wrists and then strangling himself.

His suicide brought an end to a criminal career that had included rape, burglary and bank robbery as well as murder. However, it left many questions about his crimes unanswered.

Israel Keyes (he was apparently not given a middle name) was born on January 7, 1978 in Richmond, Utah. The first child of a married couple, he would eventually have nine siblings. His parents were members of the Mormon Church during his early years and Israel was home-schooled.

He was still a child when the Keyes family moved to a rural area north of Colville, Washington. The family appears to have left Mormonism. They occasionally attended a church of Christian Identity, a tiny denomination preaching white separatist and anti-Semitic doctrines.

Keyes joined the United States Army in 1998. He served at Fort Lewis and Fort Hood and in Egypt. While at Fort Lewis in 2001 he pled guilty to a DUI. He received an "Army Achievement Medal," but was never in combat. He was honorably discharged in 2001.

Lanky and athletic, Keyes ran a marathon in Olympia, Washington in 2007. He performed carpentry work for an American Indian tribe in Washington before relocating to Anchorage in late 2007. He also founded Keyes Construction, a contracting firm of which he appears to have been both boss and sole employee.

His criminal career may have begun while he was in the military. According to Keyes, he raped a female in late 1990, but did not murder her. She may have been as young as 14 at the time of the assault. He said the murders started sometime after this attack.

Anchorage Police Department
Anchorage Police Department

In January 2002, Keyes was cited for driving with a suspended license in Washington State.

In order to avoid detection, he often traveled far from home to murder. He financed his travels through Keyes Construction and through thefts including bank robberies. In April 2009, he robbed a Community Bank branch in Tupper Lake, New York. He brandished a handgun, but no one was harmed in the hold-up.

Keyes was an especially methodical and organized murderer. In 2011, he boarded a plane that took him from the West Coast to Chicago. There, he rented a car and drove 1,000 miles to Vermont.

During this and similar trips, he turned off his cell phone and paid with cash to avoid leaving clues. He also buried what he described as "murder kits" in various spots. These kits included weapons and items such as Drano to hasten a corpse's decomposition.

In the town of Essex, Keyes selected a couple at random to victimize. They were Bill Currier, 50, and Lorraine Currier, 55. He chose them in part because their house had an attached garage and because they appeared to have neither child nor dog.

Just before attacking the Curriers, Keyes retrieved a box filled with murder tools that he had buried in Vermont in 2009.

In the evening of June 8, 2011, Keyes cut the phone lines of the Currier house. Then he used a crowbar from the Currier garage to smash a window. Wearing a headlamp, Keyes ran into the main bedroom. He tied the Curriers with zip ties and demanded to know if they had a gun. They admitted they had a .38 Ruger. Keyes took that weapon. He forced the couple into their own car and drove them to an abandoned farmhouse that Keyes had previously scouted out.

Leaving Lorraine in the car, Keyes forced Bill to go to the farmhouse basement. Keyes tied him to a stool. Returning to the car, Keyes saw that Lorraine had gotten out of the car and was running. He tackled her and took her to the second floor of the farmhouse and left her bound.

Keyes went to the basement where Bill shrieked, "Where's my wife?" Keyes struck him with a shovel and then shot him.

Keyes returned to the second floor, raped Lorraine, and then took her down to the basement where he strangled her. He put the Curriers in separate garbage bags. What he did with the bodies after that is unclear and their bodies have not been recovered.

Vermont Chittendon County Prosecutor T.J. Donovan commented, "They fought to the end" and observed that the Curriers demonstrated "extraordinary bravery and love for each other."

After murdering the couple, he buried the Currier handgun together with the original "murder kit" in a wooded area close to Vermont's Winooski River.

Read This If You’re Dating A Workaholic And It (Kind Of) Sucks

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 02:00 PM PDT

matteoewing
matteoewing

We knew it would be tough. I knew it would be tough—he warned me, and I knew. We're a month in, and whaddaya know, we were right—it's tough.

I hauled my ass down on an over-crowded, under-ventilated Peter Pan bus to visit him for the long weekend—five unpleasant hours from Williamstown to Port Authority. I told my parents I was coming home to visit them, too—I think they know that if it weren't for him, I would've stayed at school to study for midterms. But this was supposed to be his first work-free weekend since he started his job, so exams be damned: I was getting on that bus, no matter how sharply that coach stunk of urine.

When I got here, though, I was slapped with a sad reality check; in his line of work, when you're his kind of guy, oftentimes, the job steals what little freedom it promised you—he'd been staffed, and he’d have to put in plenty of weekend hours, after all. So here I am, sitting on my parents' couch, writing a story I didn't think I'd write today, while he grinds. He's not sure when he'll be done—certainly not in time for dinner, but hopefully before 10 p.m. Today is Saturday, btw.

We knew it would be tough. I knew it would be tough—he warned me, and I knew. We're a month in, and whaddaya know, we were right—it's tough.

I was, admittedly, mildly heartbroken when he delivered the shitty news. He works ungodly hours while I attend a maximum 150 minutes of class per day and regularly wake up after 11 a.m.—our schedules are completely out of sync, and even though we "talk" everyday, it's just that: "talk." A "hi" from him during his coffee break. An immediate "hey what's up!" from me. Silence for a few hours. Another "hi" at dinner—his texts are signals of life more than they are conversation-starters. And I don't blame him—he's just started a career that’ll exhaust his humanity for the first few years, and then probably still; I don't expect him to set aside his work to exchange sweet nothings with me during his 18-hour day. I never did.

Inevitably, though, disappointment consumes; when he told me our weekend together was no more, my initial thought was not, "That's totally ok, babe, I understand." It was, irrationally, "Um…..fuck you, fuck your job, fuck this. I'm gonna go cry into a fat tub of Nutella and plot the ruin of American capitalism, now."

We knew it would be tough. I knew it would be tough—he warned me, and I knew. We're a month in, and whaddaya know, we were right—it's tough.

Here's the great paradox of this shitty ordeal: Acute workaholism inconveniences our relationship in a million ways, but the symptoms—ambition, energy, diligence, confidence—are among the many reasons why I love him. He's a smart, driven, self-motivated dude; he knows what he wants, and he's happy to sweat through his twenties to get it.

And I love that about him.

And I'm proud of him—if I were to disclose his job, you'd be impressed. Everyone's impressed. He's the clean-shaven, tireless kid most parents wish they had. And he loves his work, too—that's the best part. He really, really loves it. And he rarely—and I mean rarely—complains about the price. So, ultimately, I love his work, too. Because I love him, and he loves it—and he wouldn't be the same guy if he didn't.

We knew it would be tough. I knew it would be tough—he warned me, and I knew. We're a month in, and whaddaya know, we were right—it's tough.

But then, no one ever told me relationships were easy. TC mark

13 ISTJs Explain The One Thing They Wish Others Understood About Their Personalities

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 01:00 PM PDT

jalissa_queen
jalissa_queen

1. Just because we’re insanely organized and routine-driven doesn’t mean we’re boring or miserable or no fun! We cut loose more than you think.

beetlejuice

2. As much as we love rules, routine, and order, it’s OK to surprise us. We need a little spontaneity to break things up, as long as it’s nothing illegal or contrary to our morals.

beetlejuice

3. We are so loyal – sometimes too loyal – but that doesn’t mean we like being taken advantage of.

beetlejuice

4. We do actually have emotions.

beetlejuice

5. I'm more open-minded than I seem. Yes I always want to do things the proper way but if your way is proven to be superior to mine, I'll be open to it – even if I'm reluctant at first.

beetlejuice

6. We're not always angry. We just aren't bubbly or outgoing people. Don't assume that just because we're being quiet, something's wrong.

beetlejuice

7. Extroverted, feeler types, don't tone yourselves down around us! We like your energy. It gets us to open up and feel comfortable.

beetlejuice

8. If we're poking fun at you or being sarcastic towards you, it means we like you. If we didn't like you, we'd just avoid you.

beetlejuice

9. We don't like tradition for tradition's sake. We like tradition because it imposes order in our lives and points out what has worked well in the past. Traditions exist for a reason.

beetlejuice

10. Our lives are about practicality and efficiency. Please show up on time and follow through on the commitments you make. We take those small acts of respect very seriously.

beetlejuice

11. Not everybody earns our respect but if you do, we'll be incredibly loyal to you.

beetlejuice

12. My morals aren't set in stone. Many of them have changed over the course of my life and I'm sure that they'll continue to change as I age – even though it may take a year or fifty.

beetlejuice

13. We are not all the same! There's a stereotype that ISTJs are all carbon copies of one another but nothing could be further from the truth. I have a different set of beliefs and a different lifestyle than many of the other ISTJs I know. How we've been raised and what experiences we've had has a large influence on our personalities. Don't assume that knowing one ISTJ means you know them all! TC mark

I Found A Diary In A Pile Of Used Books And I’m Terrified That The Story Of This Missing Person Is True

Posted: 19 Oct 2015 12:08 PM PDT

30dagarmedanalhus / CC BY http://2.0 / flickr.com/photos/-dear-diary/5034427856/
30dagarmedanalhus / CC BY http://2.0 / flickr.com/photos/-dear-diary/5034427856/

Before you say anything, yes, I’ll be going to the police. But I wanted to share this with you first.

So my local grocery store, it has this cool thing, see? Right as you walk out with your groceries, there’s this bookshelf. It’s not tidy or orderly but it’s cool, it’s a used book service. You can bring your own for others to read or you can grab one to take home, just stick a dollar in the jar for charity. Honor system.

I’ve snagged a few good ones, nothing super popular or anything but some good true crime stuff. Couple of old mysteries. Then… this.

I first noticed its worn, rosy pink leather with the word “SECRETS” debossed in faded silver. A lock hung uselessly off the side of the book, broken.

I’ll be honest, I thought it was a gimmick. “Secrets” was the title and it was clever marketing shit to get me to pick it up. I thumbed through it–handwritten pages, a pale pink ribbon to mark your spot–and decided to bring the thing home.

I already told you, I’m going to the police. But this is what I found inside, starting on page one.

March 11, 1991

Brad is gone and it’s all my fault. It's been three days.

I know I flew off the handle. I said things I can't take back but goddamn it he's just such a jerk sometimes. We're supposed to do that big-brother little-sister shit but that got old after we graduated high school.
Mom's inconsolable. She keeps saying it's just one of his pranks. "He'll be back, Jennifer. He's just playing one of his 'games'."

I know all about Brad's "games". He was famous for them as a kid and you'd think he'd grow out of it, a guy in his 20s with a job and car insurance, but no—Brad still found time to pour icewater in my shower or trap my deodorant in a jello mold. I don't know why I moved in with him in the first place.

Yes I do. Because I don't have the money for my own place.

But Brad was nice about it, at first. He said it'd be fun to live together. Even offered to take me out for my birthday. I should've known better.

Mom gave me this journal when I was a little kid. I found it when I moved, thought it was lame and didn't really give it a second thought. Now that Brad’s gone, though, I feel awful and I thought maybe writing about it would help. Anything’s better than listening to the police talking to Mom in the kitchen, telling her that they’re still looking, but more than 48 hours has passed and those are the most important when a person goes missing.

March 12, 1991

Brad is still gone. He's still not home. The police told Mom he's probably just blowing off some steam, he's a youngish guy and he might just be slumming it somewhere, getting drunk or hooking up.
They don't know that we were already drunk when it happened. I should've told them that in the beginning, I guess.

I thought I heard stuff moving around in my kitchen last night but when I got up, no one was out there. The cabinet doors were open but maybe I forgot to shut them.
I haven't been sleeping much.

March 15, 1991

Mom just sits in her bedroom and cries. She won't come out and talk to me so I go back to my empty apartment. It's a lot quieter without Brad.

Brad's been gone for a whole week now. They've been putting up pictures of his face all over town. He'll probably be on the news soon.

I'm trying to make myself write about what happened but it's hard.

We'd been drinking, like I said. Wandering back from downtown because we were celebrating my birthday and we were both too smashed to drive. Got to this sketchy part of town and I knew it was Brad, he'd lead us there on purpose.

I told him it was shitty, he was a guy and he might think it was funny—one of his "games"—but us girls know the bad part of town at night and drunk is just a recipe for disaster.

He didn't care. He said, "C'mon, let's check out this building, I hear it's haunted!"

That's Brad for you. I'm drunk and hungry on my birthday, thinking we might just have a good time as brother and sister for once, and he leads me to an abandoned building at midnight.

I begged him not to go in but he went ahead anyway and I didn't have a choice — if I didn't follow him, I'd be alone, so I went in with him.

He shouldn't have gone there. He shouldn't have made me go.

I don't feel like writing anymore.

March 17, 1991

I keep waking up in the middle of the night. Weird enough it's the same time every night: 2:36 am. It's probably just nerves but I feel like someone's watching me.

Brad's still gone.

March 18, 1991

Why did Brad insist on going in that building? Why couldn't we have just had a nice time for my birthday?

I followed him into that building, this hulking monstrosity that was probably an old apartment complex or something, a place that no doubt wasn't haunted at all but just an excuse for Brad to play one of his "games". I mean, I should've known that, I guess.

He started running up the stairs. Taking them two at a time. I had to take off my heels to catch up to him and was scared the whole time like I might step on a hypodermic needle or something. This place was a real dump.

I almost fell down the stairs and that made me mad, I almost dropped my shoes and when I rounded the corner to tell him so Brad jumped out from behind a big hunk of concrete and yelled "BOO!" Like a stupid little kid.

Except it worked, I screamed and dropped my shoes AND my purse and they went tumbling down the broken concrete steps and Brad just laughed and laughed and laughed.

I got so mad. I started hitting him. I don't think I would've been as mad if I hadn't been drunk but I was.

He was laughing still, backing away and shielding himself with his arms while I slapped and shrieked that he was an asshole, he was the worst brother ever, he was a shitty person and a horrible roommate and the only reason I was even living with him was because I was too broke for my own place and if I had the money I wouldn't bother to see him ever again.

Yeah, it was mean. But I meant it.

What I didn't mean was for Brad to keep backing up while I swatted at him. I wanted him to stand there and take it but he kept laughing and backing up and all of a sudden he was gone.

He was there, right there in front of me, and then gone, down the open elevator shaft neither of us saw. Down all five floors. If I had to guess, it was probably 2:36 am.

I'm only writing this because my apartment isn't so quiet anymore. Brad's still gone but… he's not.
I think he followed me home.

March 20, 1991

Okay, Brad, see? I'm doing it. I'm writing. Stop screaming at me. I can't take the screaming.

When he fell down the elevator shaft I should've gone for help but I didn't. I was scared, okay? I was worried someone would think I pushed him and I don't know, maybe I sort of did, so I didn't go for help. I covered him with rubble and debris and I left him there because I thought they'd find him and maybe think he got murdered for his wallet or something but they haven't found him and at this point it's too late to tell the cops or I'll be implicated.

I can't tell them, Brad, please stop screaming!

March 26, 1991

Brad wants me to go to the police but I can't. I don't want to go to prison. He keeps playing these pranks, stacking all my chairs on top of each other, turning all the pictures on the wall backwards, making the faucets run blood instead of water. It's his stupid games but now they're worse because he's angry and now he has more power.

I hoped just writing it out would help but he's not happy. He wants me to pay but I did, I paid just by being his sister. Something like this was bound to happen, you know? Him and his "games".

I'm starting to get pretty scared but I don't know what to do.

March 30, 1991

This is Jennifer I did it I pushed Brad

Brad is never coming back so I did what I had to do

Consider this my suicide note

Brad is gone and it's all my fault TC mark

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