Thought Catalog

Thought Catalog


How Masturbation Can Save You From Yourself

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 07:00 PM PST

masterbation

You want to ask out someone you recently met? Masturbate first, then see if you still want to spend six hours wining, dining, and entertaining her, desperate for an outcome that's not only going to disappoint you if it doesn't occur, but may even disappoint you if it does.

You want to call an escort? Masturbate first, then see if you really want some junkie who looks nothing like her decade-­old Photoshopped images to give you a lazy hand job.

You want to call a former fuck buddy? Masturbate first, then see if you still want to invite her over, have sex that isn't as good as you remembered, then spend the rest of the night figuring out how to politely get rid of her without hurting her feelings.

Masturbate when you want to break the rules of your relationship or your celibacy agreement—­and you'll soon discover that once your desires are fulfilled in your imagination, the need to live them out in real life suddenly doesn't seem so urgent. Once the brain's reward center has gotten its hit of dopamine, it doesn't need another one—­at least not for a little while.

They say that viewing porn correlates with depression. I'm not sure whether it's a cause or a symptom, but now I understand why it's so appealing: It's not just a world where sex is easy, but also where sex doesn't involve dealing with someone's emotions before, during, and after the experience.

She doesn't yell at you if you aren't faithful and you start watching another porn clip. She doesn't shame you for your taste in women, your fetishes, your performance, or your body, income, and faults—unless being shamed happens to turn you on, in which case she's glad to do it all night. And she doesn't mind if you come before it's done, then roll over and go to sleep and never talk to her again. It's just instant sexual gratification with no waiting, no rejection, no emotion, no commitment, no obligation whatsoever—plus infinite variety.

The strict sexaholics and sex addiction therapists definitely wouldn't agree with the jerk-­off solution, and it's delaying my entry into the pleasureless world of anhedonia, but it serves its purpose as a Band-­Aid keeping me faithful to myself and my promise to Lorraine before seeing her again.

The only problem is that after the orgasm, I'm still stuck with myself—­and my mistakes. I think about Ingrid's footsteps clomping outside the front door, her mocking shouts of freedom, the glee she took in blocking my path when I tried to enter a room, and the warmth of her body, heart, and spirit. All she tried to do was bring joy and laughter into my life. And in return, I gave her the best of what I had to offer: resentment.

One lonely evening, after my porn pity party, I bring a stack of unopened mail and random bills to the bed. That's when I come across Ingrid's wedding invitation again.

Perhaps it's time to come to terms with her marriage and move on to the last stage of grief, acceptance. I turn the envelope nervously in my hands for a few moments, wondering if she's marrying the James Dean–on–steroids guy. Then I slide an index finger along the flap, my heart thudding loudly, my body bracing for the shock. TC mark

I Could Taste Her Broken Heart

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 06:30 PM PST

berlynkomar
berlynkomar

Her hair smelled like sheets in the summertime.

Not like the laundry that comes from your dryer, all tangled and covered in some synthetic imitation of what Tide has decided a mountain smells like. But like the sheets your mom would hang in the backyard to wave in the early July mornings. The sheets you ran between and made forts from that were never quite free from grass stains. Her hair smelled like soap and calm and that kind of heat that makes your heart stop and grasp for memories before they slip away.

I got lost in it beneath lights more red and neon than pure like backyard sunshine. I pushed it behind her ears and tried to soak up as much of that innocence before the cigarette smoke curled around her and tarnished something I knew I’d never have.

Every time she opened her mouth I could watch her singing fabricated stories. With each little sing-song laughter that escaped from behind cheap beer and flirty eyes, I could see each little white lie dancing.

“No, I’m not thinking about my ex.”
“Yes, I appreciate the drunk guys flirting with me.”
“Of course I’m unaware and oblivious about how we keep staring at each other.”

But I kept batting my lashes from behind pint glasses of my own, and humming along with her songs comprised entirely of lies. She could have said anything and I would have pretended to know the words, belted along until my lungs blew out, agreed with every word until my neck grew sore from nodding.

As long as she kept talking, and I could be all ears.

So there we were. Just the two of us under a winter moon, watching our breath connect in that below zero air. All huddled up beneath layers and jackets and the heat that we could feel emanating from our skin when she grabbed my hand and took me to her car. We were full of last call laughter and unfinished sentences and when my fingers shocked the sides of her face I blamed it on Target mittens, but really I like to pretend it was chemistry.

She felt like nostalgia mixed with déjà vu.

When my hands were working their way along her sides, up her back, cupping every last inch of her in my palms I could have sworn they’d been there before. She was like coming home for the first time after college and feeling out of place, but flooded with memories. Every curve of her body held pieces of me I’d forgotten. Every shake of her head and toss of that hair was something I wanted to immortalize.

She was like remembering all of the words to your old favorite song without looking up the lyrics. As if we’d clicked on the radio and had just been able to sing along.

She tasted like heartbreak and desperation.

With every kiss I could feel the, “Please love me.” With every parting of her lips she was begging, “Please make it stop hurting.” Each time she pulled me in as much as I wanted it to be about me, I think it was more about filling something that was empty. Tossing my dress off of her bed wasn’t about getting me close so much as it was about making the space someone else left behind full again.

But she tasted like the wine I swam in when I was freshly broken, and like the confusion I once called my best friend. She reminded me of the huckleberries we’d eat before they were fully ripe, but we liked the way they bit our tongues so we kept coming back for more. So even though there was hurt, there was pain, there was an aftertaste I couldn’t shake, I thought that maybe I could ease the ache even if only until the sun rose.

She was shattered glass and I was sure, so sure, that maybe I could help put her back together.

Or maybe it was just sex, and I simply have a knack for becoming obsessed with making art out of broken people. TC mark

I Tell My Therapist I Don’t Want To Die Today

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 06:00 PM PST

Mike Monaghan
Mike Monaghan

“No, I don’t want to die,”

I tell her.

She clears her throat,
asks for clarification.

I try to explain.
My words seem stuck somewhere I can’t reach.
I sound sticky,
like I swallowed five marshmallows whole,
didn’t even stop to chew.

I try to tell her how I wanted to stop living.
Once,
back then.
Which is why I’m here,
I suppose.
My low has leveled out,
for now.
I try again.
No,
not die, exactly.
Just not be here.
Be in this body that requires so much ache.
A sickening difference that doesn't make sense,
Something I have tried to explain
in conversations with different therapists,
Beautiful women with multiple degrees
hanging on porcelain walls.

"But I don't want to die, today."
I tell her.

"Why?"

And realize I don't have a very good answer.
I want my disease
to show itself
in some sort of logical way.
But instead,
I just feel okay
when I feel okay.
It’s like she’s still wanting something.
And I’ve never known what it is.
So I start talking.
I tell her about my ex,
or Pop-Tarts,
My dead father,
Anything.
All of it.

Because I just don't have a good enough answer.
I don’t have the right things to say. TC mark

A History Of Trying To Be Cool

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 05:30 PM PST

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I remember the first time I realized something was cool.

I was sixteen years old, poking around on Livejournal—for those too young to know, Livejournal was a site of semi-private diaries that worked kind of like Twitter and Instagram in the sense that it was actually possible to be popular and have lots of followers if you posted cute enough pictures of you and your friends—and I stumbled upon the diary of a girl I'll call Julie.

Julie was my age and lived in Malibu. On her profile, her interests were listed as "toothbrushes. tofu. sleepovers." I clicked on her diary and found entries upon entries of her posing in hazy polaroids with her girlfriends in Marc Jacobs coats and ripped leggings. The journal entries themselves were always vague and typed in lowercase to give off a more whimsical vibe.

Sample entry: "today i made sam come to lunch with me & jacques at le petite four. we then found the best vintage store in hollywood & bought lots of stuff. then beck was sold out so we went to a party where people were wrestling & peeing in their pants…& now im here, drinking milk. IM SO HAPPY!"

Looking back this post is v. v. innocuous and snooze-y but at the time my thought process was

"OH MY GOD. THIS GIRL IS SO COOL. LE PETIT FOUR AND A FRIEND NAMED JACQUES???!. PARTIES? VINTAGE CLOTHES?! AGGHHHHHDFNBGHFEJMFJNBGJFD!!!""

Inspired, I decided to model my Livejournal Indieadolescent (lol) after Julie's. I ditched capitalization (too obvious and desperate!) and bought a Polaroid camera so I could take hot pictures of all my friends. This was in 2004/2005, the beginning of Myspace and scene kids, which were like hipsters but with worse hair and an unclear emo vibe. Scene was NEVER chic.

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I wanted to be a hipster. I wanted to live my life like it was a Sofia Coppola movie and listen to Velvet Underground records and have dance parties to a band you've never fucking heard of. I didn't have the vocabulary for it then but I was, building my "brand" as a hip teenager and using Livejournal as my medium.

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A sample entry from my journal during this time: "i ran around los angeles & got my outfit for prom: a white marc jacobs suit. i sat in silence on the cab ride home & was almost content. then i went to a party where i see the same people do the same boneheaded things. but i like it anyways. that night, i got drunk for the first time in awhile. champagne flowed freely. & i dont remember much but i guess i sang that romeo void lyric “i might like you better if we slept together” to my mother. things have been off-kilter since. my stomach is now hairless & im still loveless so i guess its for thine eyes only. which i thought i didnt mind about. but i guess i am aching for a companion. i want it to go away. i have no inspiration for a companion. i dont desire anyone. so why must i be so lonely? oh grace slick, somebody to love."

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On top of writing twee and melanlolllllllllly posts on my Livejournal, my friends and I would have photo shoots in random meadows in Ojai so we could post the pictures to Myspace and have everyone think we lived cooler lives than we actually did. The hilarious thing about all of this is that it fucking worked. I became a cool teenager!!!

So smash cut to me living, laughing, and loving in college. The party photographer The Cobrasnake was gaining steam and catapulting people like Cory Kennedy (Edie Sedgwick but with seemingly even less brain activity) to Internet fame. I'd scroll through the photos from my dorm room, seething with jealousy.

"WHEN THE FUCK AM I GOING TO BE ON THE COBRASNAKE?" I'd scream. "WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO LOOK DISAFFECTED ON THE WORLD WIDE WEB?":

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That summer I lived in LA and went to every traj hotspot imaginable, including a place called Hyde that served milk and cookies for fifty dollars. I met The Cobrasnake IRL and he looked like a literal goblin. I also tried to have a conversation with Cory Kennedy while she was wearing a nightgown and clogs but forming words proved to not be her ultimate journey.

During this time, I'd also befriend crazy rich girls with terrible personalities who looked GREAT on camera. I was still so obsessed with this idea of being cool, even if it meant surrounding myself with psychos I had nothing in common with. And why was I doing this? Why was I paying the bouncer fifty dollars to get into Dim Mak Tuesdays at Cinespace?

LOW SELF-ESTEEM, duh!!!! I have a mild case of cerebral palsy and —quell surprise—it made me feel like a total undesirable loser. I guess I thought that if I wore enough deep V's from American Apparel it would somehow all go away???? Crazy, I know, but I was 21 and when you're that age you don't have a thought in your brain that isn't batshit insane.

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That year, I moved to New York for school. Desperate for friends, I started hanging out with these fashion kids who had bouillon cubes for brains. I got the feeling they kinda hated me because I wasn't super thin and my limp was fucking up their steeze. They would constantly ditch me or ignore jokes I made. I learned pretty quickly that having a sense of humor was NOT considered cool. Their version of lols was pushing a close friend off their Myspace top 8.

The low-point came when I was sitting with these two people at a club called The Annex. The girl looked like Lux Lisbon and the guy was just some waifish sociopath with a vintage line. We were "friends' though and I started to tell them this HIGHLARIOUS story about god knows what. Right when I began talking, they looked at each other, got up and walked away. No explanation. Just bye.

Lesley Arfin once tweeted "Being cool doesn't keep you warm at night" and man do I wish that tweet existed for me in 2007 because I probably could've saved myself from having countless boring dinners with nightmare people.  I was a gay gimp, for fuck's sake!

By the time I graduated college, I abandoned my Livejournal, ditched my Polaroid, and started exclusively hanging out with funny weirdos. It's cheesy but when you stop fighting against your real personality, you actually let yourself become…cool. Seriously, being cozy in your own skin is the chicest thing you could ever do for yourself.

Confidence is cooler than a dreamy picture of two babes taken by a vintage camera.

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And, by the way, everyone my age seems to have given up on this idea of "cool" too. All those club kids from 2005-2007 live normal lives now. Even Julie from Livejournal went to rehab and just posts pictures of her dog on Facebook!!

It's a relief to know that it was just a phase for all of us. It's a relief to realize that all of us were just playing a part, waiting until we had the courage to be the person we really were.

Except for Cory Kennedy. I think she's still trying to be "cool." TC mark

Read This If You Just Need Someone To Give You A Chance At Your Dream Job

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 05:00 PM PST

basakt
basakt

It's 1983, and an up-and-coming comedian named Jerry Seinfeld is scheduled to do an interview in his apartment with a journalist for a New York radio station. He opens the door to find pretty much the opposite of what he expected—or frankly, what anyone doing an interview would reasonably expect. Not a seasoned reporter, but literally a child: a 16 year old Judd Apatow, in fact.

Slightly abusing his privileges as a 10th grader working at his high school radio station, Apatow had the idea to call publicists of his favorite comedians and simply ask if their client would be interested in being interviewed for "WKWZ radio on Long Island." He neglected to inform them that, you know, it wasn't a real station and he wasn't a real journalist. But it worked!

Apatow desperately wanted to be a real comedian. He had no idea where to start but figured that getting close to comedians would help. That way, he could learn. You can hear this in the questions he asked Jerry Seinfeld. One of them is literally "How do you write a joke?" That is not "How do you" but "How do you write a joke?"

It was through these interviews that he received his crash course in a business that there really is no school for. In some cases, he formed relationships with people he would later work with after he became a writer, producer and director. He kept doing the interviews as he got older too, using it as an excuse to meet really important people who otherwise probably wouldn't have taken the time (eventually, he turned it into a bestselling book).

I know a bit about this hustle myself. When I was in college—and not a particularly good one—I did more or the less the same thing. I wrote opinion articles about people I wanted to meet and then I used the articles—which I would post on my blog since the paper didn't have its own site—as an excuse to email them and get feedback. This is how I got my first internship with an author who would put me on the path to becoming a writer myself. I used it as a way to meet Dr. Drew, who I'd grown up listening to, and ask him a question I'd been dying to ask: What books should I read? He turned me onto the Stoics, which changed my life and eventually inspired a book of my own.

It's common for young people to complain: "I never get any opportunities." "I just need one shot!" "Will somebody just help me?" They see themselves as stuck in the middle of nowhere. They see themselves as cut off from the action because they're not at a great school or their parents weren't connected enough to help them get an internship. These are the same complaints that older people use. That they don't have a strong enough resume. Or they wish they had a mentor. Or an audience.

Maybe you've heard yourself say something similar.

The Civil Rights activist Booker T. Washington gave a famous speech in Atlanta in 1895 where he told a little story.

"A ship lost at sea for many days suddenly sighted a friendly vessel. From the mast of the unfortunate vessel was seen a signal: "Water, water. We die of thirst." The answer from the friendly vessel at once came back: "Cast down your bucket where you are." A second time, the signal, "Water, send us water!" went up from the distressed vessel. And was answered: "Cast down your bucket where you are." A third and fourth signal for water was answered: "Cast down your bucket where you are." The captain of the distressed vessel, at last heeding the injunction, cast down his bucket and it came up full of fresh, sparkling water from the mouth of the Amazon River."

His message was that both white people and black people were ignoring the many opportunities that surrounded them. White business owners were so prejudiced that they were importing labor from overseas even though one third of the population in the South was black. Meanwhile, successful blacks were seeking their educations overseas or striving for high political offices when there were institutions right next door that desperately needed and wanted them.

But put the racial context of that message aside, the line is one that any and every person ought to remember. It's something that we should be repeating to ourselves on a daily basis: "Cast down your bucket where you are." That is, not where we want to be, not where we wish we were, not where we used to be but where are are, right now.

Use what is around you, however meager, to make something—to make an opportunity for yourself. Certainly, this is what Booker T. Washington did. In fact, this is how he got into college. Hearing about a nearby school in Virginia called the Hampton Institute, Washington traveled some 500 miles, often on foot, and sleeping under a raised sidewalk along the way to make it there. He showed up without a recommendation or even an appointment. He was 16 years old too.

Sitting in a waiting room, he watched as students and faculty came in and out of their meetings. Eventually, he noticed a broom in the corner. He walked over, picked it up and began to sweep. He swept until the room was spotless, and then he kept sweeping until he had done the room three times. Then he found a cloth and dusted everything in the room multiple times. Finally, he approached the head teacher and reported what he had done. She inspected the room, discovered how immaculately clean it was, looked at him and said "I guess you will do to enter this institution."

In other words, he wasn't bullshitting when he said you can and should cast your bucket down where you are. Wherever you are.

Even if it's a waiting room. Even if you're 16 years old. Even if you're under-qualified or happen to live in Podunk, USA, just showed in Los Angeles without a single lead. Even if you're a founder who is looking to grow their startup or a successful musician trying to find their next bit of material.

There's something for you. It's right around you.

Cast down and pick it up. TC mark

This Is Why People Break Your Heart According To Your Zodiac Sign

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 04:30 PM PST

Twenty20 / Btop
Twenty20 / Btop

Do you ever wonder why you keep getting your heart broken by people who claim to love you? Do you wonder if it’s you, and not them? Well, it might be both. According to our zodiac sign, we possess dominant personalities that make us an ideal partner for someone. But these personalities aren’t always our best.

When it comes to relationships, our personalities explain why you’re easy to fall in love with, and easy to fall out of love with. WNQ-Astrology shares why we sometimes fall short in our relationships, based on our zodiac sign.

However, this doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of being loved as who you are. No, it just shows exactly how much someone loves and cares about you, by embracing both your best qualities and your flaws.

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

Aries are independent and self-involved. They’re initially cute, but later on their partners will find this attitude annoying and very frustrating. Aries impulsiveness, especially, becomes a problem when their partner is trying to compromise.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Taurus has stubborn streaks that make them hold grudges far longer than necessary. This means that even after someone has apologized, they still aren’t content and prefer to remain angry until they’re satisfied. This is very draining to the other person.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)

One dominant trait of Geminis is that they’re free spirits who refuse to be pinned down, even in a relationship. They would still flirt and openly show an attraction or interest to another person. They thrive in open relationships, but if their partner is monogamous then the relationship probably won’t last very long.

Cancer (June 21 – July 22)

Cancers are independent and can rely on themselves. But when they do enter a relationship, they tend to show their clingy side. The deeper they care about their partner, the more possessive they become, and thus, they end up smothering their partner in love instead.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Although Leos are the most loyal of partners you can ask for, their vanity and ego sometimes gets in the way of a successful relationship. They would continue to argue and prove their point to win, no matter how small the argument. For Leos, this is satisfying, but for their partners, very tiring.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)

Virgos are analytical and skeptical, a dangerous combination. They tend to not only analyze and doubt their own feelings, but also their partners’. Even just a small sense of doubt has them giving up and concluding the relationship impossible, even if there’s a slight chance of fixing the problem.

Libra (September 23 – October 22)

Libras are one of the most idealistic of the zodiac, as well as vain. They seek challenges, someone they believe they can “fix” to fit their ideal partner, so they can boast about their success. However, this normally doesn’t work because their partner refuses to be “fixed.”

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)

Scorpios are loyal and passionate, which are ideal in a relationship. But like Cancer, they can be possessive and jealous when it comes to their partners; they smother them to the point of being controlling of their partners.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

Sagittarius are the most adventurous and carefree of the signs. They love fun and excitement, and have ridiculously high expectations of their partners.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)

Capricorns don’t trust easily, and you have to earn that trust for them to let you completely into their lives. It takes a very patient and strong partner to break through this, which proves your dedication to the Capricorn. Unfortunately, not everyone is willing or strong enough to do this.

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)

Witty and clever, Aquarius is the type of partner who is blunt and unafraid to speak their minds. Though endearing at first, it can get annoying and discouraging as time goes on.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

Pisces are one of the most emotional of the signs. It’s difficult for someone new to date a Pisces because they sometimes still long for an ex or an unrequited love. At times, they project these fantasies into their new partner, which isn’t the most pleasant feeling for the new partner. TC mark

This post originally appeared at YourTango.

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Listening To Hollaback Girl And Trying To Not Text You (Because I’m Not A Hollaback Girl)

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 04:00 PM PST

Franca Gimenez
Franca Gimenez

Gwen Stefani blasts through my ears
so I start singing in unison,
In solidarity.
I ain't no hollaback girl,
I ain't no hollaback girl.

I am shouting…er singing.
Okay, fine!
I guess I'm hollering back,
As I'm always texting back,
or texting first,
or fucking sending three Snapchats.
I don't know how I'm supposed to pretend
you don't turn my stomach into
a butterfly mortuary
that they flew around so fast and frantic,
all of them died.
I'm a graveyard of everything I've ever said to you.
You grabbed my hand in the Uber
like you had never touched another human being,
Like we’re all electricity
without a panic button.
I’m sorry I pulled away.
I’m sorry I searched for a panic button.
I’m sorry I tried to play a part I’ve never been able to master.
I keep wanting to not be in so deep.
For us to just be dirty pictures,
and stolen Los Angeles nights.
Unanswered moments,
and messages I hate reading in the morning.
You smell like generic shampoo
that I’d find on aisle 6
in any store.
You are everything I’ve seen before,
but I want to kiss you in the bar
as soon as you walk through.

What if I told you
everything you did
became the smallest footnote
instead of the chapter heading
that I read when I can't sleep?
What if I didn't tell you anything?
What if I just didn't care?

What if I could just convinced myself
we were always nothing? TC mark

9 Confessions From A Skinny Girl With An Eating Disorder

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 03:30 PM PST

Nikita Gill
Nikita Gill

1. The difference between being thin and being skinny is that when you’re skinny, everyone is constantly trying to get you to eat. As if you are deliberately starving yourself. As if they are soldiers and you are a war they must win, food instead of guns in their hands.

2. Seven years ago, when I first realised that I couldn’t sleep on my side anymore because my hipbones cut like knives into my skin, that I could count every single one of my ribs, I ate everything I found in the fridge till I threw up, and my friends thought I was doing it on purpose. It took me three sessions of intensive therapy to convince the therapist that I wasn’t sick when honestly, I wasn’t sure myself anymore.

3. Girls who look in the mirror and see a collection of bones and stories and thigh gaps and brittle wrists are called beautiful in magazines, so why do I only see hollow eyes and skin that is just barely stretched over a skeletal frame?

4. The first time a boy grasped my wrist too hard because I didn’t want to turn into another one of his trophies, my wrist snapped like a twig in two. And as the pain blinded me, he took what he wanted from me anyway. Till now the slightly crooked way my wrist joins my forearm aches to remind me that of a cold dark alley, a boy with a shark like smile and a body that doesn’t know how to fight back without breaking.



5. The second boy I fell in love with, first loved me for my thin, waif like frame, then left me because he realised I was actually just skin and bones and hospital trips.

6. I only feel beautiful anymore when I am eating and the people who love me are watching me in relief, thinking the problem is solved because look, look at least she is eating, at least she isn’t trying to kill herself anymore.

7. People never fail to tell me how lucky I am. Because somehow, having a body that barely qualifies having enough meat on it to be called one, and is actively trying to die by constantly refusing food that it is offered, is better than being called ‘fat’ or ‘overweight’.

8. My best friend visited me in January and told me she was going to be losing two dress sizes and how all her problems with confidence would be over, just like that. I said nothing. After all, what does a skinny girl know about struggling with weight and insecurity?

9. Today, my body and I are no longer at war with each other. But still, when someone sees me take off my bulky sweater, sees how thin my arms are, how my bones angle out of my skin, they smile at me with worry in their eyes and ask, “Have you eaten anything today?” TC mark

60 Little Ways To Say ‘I Love You’

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 03:00 PM PST

ellostephh
ellostephh

1.

"Be careful."

2.

"Stay safe."

3.

"Here, let me pay."

4.

"I made you breakfast."

5.

"It reminded me of you."

6.

"Have a good day."

7.

"Let me walk you home."

8.

"I'll share with you."

9.

"Can we have two spoons?"

10.

"Take my coat."

11.

"You can have mine."

12.

"How are you feeling?"

13.

"This might make you feel better."

14.

"Watch the ice, it's slippery."

15.

"Can I have this dance?"

16.

"Everything is going to be OK."

17.

"Don't worry about it."

18.

"You make me happy."

19.

"Will you come over?"

20.

"I brought your favorite snack."

21.

"It's my treat."

22.

"What do you want to watch?"

23.

"You can pick."

24.

"I'll drive."

25.

"Buckle up."

26.

"I picked up your favorite coffee."

27.

"I made plans for us."

28.

"Call me if you need anything."

29.

"Are you OK?"

30.

"You can do this!"

31.

"I'll see you later."

32.

"I saved you a seat."

33.

"I made reservations."

34.

"Want to go on an adventure?"

35.

"I'll come get you."

36.

"Don't worry about a thing."

37.

"I bought two."

38.

"Stay with me."

39.

"I did the dishes."

40.

"Drive safe."

41.

"I'm still up."

42.

"I made this for you."

43.

"We can squeeze."

44.

"You didn't have to ask."

45.

"Never change."

46.

"I miss you."

47.

"I can't wait to see you."

48.

"Just because."

49.

"I picked these for you."

50.

"I hope you like it."

51.

"I put a lot of time into it."

52.

"I'll order pizza."

53.

"Come over."

54.

"I just want to see you."

55.

"I needed to hear your voice."

56.

"Sleep tight."

57.

"I'm proud of you."

58.

"I knew you could do it."

59.

"I love your laugh."

60.

"Hey, guess what? I love you." TC mark

What Every Guy Likes In A Girl

Posted: 17 Jan 2016 02:17 PM PST

Look Catalog
Look Catalog

Ask ten women what they want in a guy and you’ll get ten different answers. For guys, it comes down to one main thing: guys want a woman who will be in their corner and make their lives a better place. If you are pleasant and enjoyable to be around, if you love your life and let that joie de vivre flow into your relationship, if you are happy with who he is, then he will be drawn to you like the proverbial moth to a flame.

There is so much information out there about what guys want and how to catch a man, but that is what it actually takes. It's not about playing coy or being unattainable or making him chase you or wearing this and saying that. Attracting the right man and being in the right relationship comes down to being your best self and letting that flow into the relationship.

Of course, we can’t discount the importance of physical attraction and compatibility. Those are prerequisites; if you don’t have them, it won’t go anywhere. But that aside, it comes down to being the woman who “gets” him, who is his sanctuary, his escape from the world. That is really all any man wants from a woman and from a relationship; everything else is just icing on the cake.

How Men Commit

What you need to realize about men is they don't really think about commitment until they have to. They enter into a situation and it feels nice, and the commitment just kind of happens. It's not the goal, it's the result.

Here is how commitment usually unfolds from a man's point of view.

A guy meets a girl, and they exchange information, maybe they even hook up. They communicate and start hanging out, and he notices he enjoys spending time with her … and he actually really enjoys her as a person. He realizes that he would even like spending time with her if they didn’t hook up.

He feels like his life is better with her around. She doesn’t try to capture him or pin him down, and she genuinely enjoys his company as well. He doesn’t think about how he’ll feel down the line, he just considers how he feels right now, and right now, he feels great. Guys don’t think about emotions; if it feels good when she’s around, he’ll want to be around her.

Guys commit slowly. He doesn’t think about it really, he just thinks about how much he enjoys her company, and the fact that he would like more of it. The reason women struggle is because they get an idea in their head that things are not okay. The moment they start to really believe that, they feel uneasy without knowing exactly why. And it doesn’t feel good … it makes her feel like she has to do something to feel okay again. Preconceived expectations and conditions can ruin happiness. As soon as they come into play, the nice, ready, relaxed dynamic is ruined. This is when a guy will start to have doubts, when he’ll start to pull away, when he’ll feel like the walls are closing in and he needs to escape.

Ultimately, a man doesn't consciously choose to commit … it just sort of happens the moment he realizes that this relationship and this woman fulfill him in ways that being single and free never could.

Another key component of commitment is timing. For a man to commit, it has to be the right girl and the right time, and these two things don't always converge. A guy can be dating the right girl, but it just isn't the right time for him to take whatever the next step is that she wants to take; usually this happens with getting engaged or married. I know guys who were sure their girlfriend was "the one," but they didn't want to propose until they were more financially stable or more established in their job. I also know guys who felt ready to find the one and settle down, but it took time to find the right girl. Some guys have such a strong desire to get married (I see this a lot with my single guy friends over 35), that they will try with all their might to make a relationship that wouldn't have gone beyond two dates in the past turn into a marriage. And finally, when a guy is ready to settle down and meets the right girl, then it's magic. Then you have that seamless coming together, that instant click and realization that this is it. TC mark

Want more writing like this? Read “10 Things Every Woman Needs To Know About Men” on iBooks here.

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10 Things Every Woman Needs To Know About Men is an honest, non-sugarcoated guide to understanding men and cracking their code so you can finally have the love you’ve always wanted.