Thought Catalog


What It’s Like To Be With Someone Who Both Destroys You And Makes You Whole

Posted: 13 May 2016 08:00 PM PDT

apricotberlin
apricotberlin

Sometimes I think about when we first met, and I laugh.

Who would have thought that almost two years later, that we would be here? This place that is neither here, nor there. How do I even explain our relationship anymore? Better question: how do you, expert of avoidance, how do you explain any of this? In some ways, it feels like more than a relationship; in other ways, I remember the day you yelled at me through the phone from hundreds of miles away, how furious you were over one of my friends innocently referring to you as my boyfriend during your first visit. I guess the mystique of our relationship is just how inexplicable it's always been, and always will be.

Sometimes I can't believe I've let myself allow you to irrevocably change me, and that I've changed so readily into something you can so malleably use.  Sometimes I get furious at myself for all of the things – tangible and intangible – that I've wasted on you these last two years. Sometimes I think about all of the things I could've experienced – other adventures, other people, other loves. Sometimes I wonder how much of myself I left in you, and in the wake of us.

But at the same time, it thrills me that I’ve experienced someone – because you were an experience, not just a person to be met – that has made such an indelible mark on me. On those days, when my hindsight perspective is 20/20, I feel lucky. Those days are far and few between, though.

I think I'm having one of those lucky days. Although, it might just be me missing you yet again.

I once read a quote that said, “I spend my sleepless nights talking to God about you.” It’s nice to know I’m not alone in that, and that other people also have a “You” that they talk to God about. I’m just sorry that my biggest form of loving you these days is praying for you. I'm not an entirely religious or spiritual person, but God is the one person I can talk to about you anymore.

I’m also feeling sorry for God, because He must be really tired of your name and mine, intertwined, coming across His desk every day.

Sometimes, I wonder what kind of direction my life would’ve taken if I had never met you that night down by the water. I can’t decide if it would be better or worse, and that’s what scares me most about all of this. For all of the alternatives and potential situations I give myself about what could've happened had I never agreed to meet you that day the US team lost in the World Cup two summers ago, I still can't decide if I actually, truly wish I had never met you. I think there's a part of me, no matter how badly we hurt each other, that will always be so grateful to have had the chance to know you. For as much as you broke me, you made me whole in different ways.

And yet, even still, every single time I think of you, even on the good days, even right now, my heart is just like, “For the love of God, could you just fucking stop?”

I think this is me realizing that my broken pieces aren't so broken anymore. I think this is me finally realizing our inexplicableness had its time, and that time is over. There will be parts of me that cry whenever I think about how beautiful we once were – that first night, drinking a bottle of wine on the rocks looking out into the ocean, telling silly high school stories as we first started to know each other; the first time you told me your family asked about me; kissing underneath blossoming fireworks on a rocky beach cove; driving aimlessly through desolate beach towns at night with you – and then I realize how doomed we inevitably always were: the day you left without any goodbye; that phone call you made from the Jersey Turnpike to try and explain yourself the first time you left me; the time you couldn't understand why I was drunkenly crying over my dog who had just died; or all of those times you simply disappeared without a word, much less an explanation.

All of those fragments have made up the incongruous, messy pile of memories and experiences of whatever we are, whatever we have been. However, as broken as it seems sometimes, as harsh and dangerous as it looks from a distance, there's a beauty to it upon closer inspection. Much as there is a method to the madness, there's a beauty to the destruction.

For in destroying me, I was given the chance to become that much more whole. In destroying me, I got to see the depth in which you can love someone, how closely you can tangle yourself within someone, the ways in which love can inevitably change you, and how much someone can truly mean to someone else. For as much as it felt like you ruined me, that 20/20 hindsight I talked about has really gotten crystal clear. I'm glad you were what broke me, so I can now be better. You were a beautiful destroyer, but the beauty doesn't have a hold on me anymore. For all that you stole from me, for all of the ways you ruined me, and the ways you so subtly hurt me, I get to learn from them. I can be better in the way I love, in the way I live, in the way I now know I deserve better. I get the chance to be whole again, because of the ways you destroyed me.

Maybe our love's purpose was designed to destroy, after all. The quiet, calming sense of peace found in some love stories was never meant for us. We were meant to be a love that ruined and wrecked, that inevitably led us to grow and change, though we fought it every step of the way. Our love went hand in hand with pain, masochism at its finest. Pain is the greatest teacher, as it instructs us what not to do in the future, so as to avoid that harsh experience in another, similar instance. And as much as the broken pieces of our love agonizingly drag across my mind and heart sometimes, it has still taught me the ways in which I can be whole now. How I survived this warfare of love, wherein I came out both broken and whole at the same time. It hurts to think about sometimes, but in hurting, that pain still teaches me, and heals me.

Even though it hurts, I will still keep those memories of sitting in your (stupidly elevated) Ford F150 truck passenger seat, listening to Van Morrison on a summer night, close to my heart. The taste of vodka cranberry will always remind me of you. Exit 8 will never be just an exit off the highway for me. They break me, sometimes, thinking about those memories, but like I said, that pain of remembrance both hurts and heals.

If you've taught me anything, it's that loving you was both my destruction, and my salvation. You might have broken me into pieces, and you may have very well destroyed part of who I used to be. But in the end, I saved myself. I put myself back together. In all the times, the innumerable times that you left me shattered by myself, I made a mosaic of our broken memories, and that's what I talk to God about now. This mosaic of contradictions and love and hatred is how I love you now, and the way was I able to heal.

So maybe I won't stop talking to God about you; at least, not anytime soon. I'm just hoping you find someway to break (and to heal) yourself someday too. TC mark

Masturbation Mishaps: 24 People Share Their Personal Horror Stories

Posted: 13 May 2016 07:00 PM PDT

Flickr / jakestrongphotog
Flickr / jakestrongphotog

1. I fell backwards and broke the light bulb I’d shoved in my ass.

"I came home drunk one night and started masturbating in the bathroom. Because I was drunk, I wasn’t getting good sensation. I squatted and screwed a burned out light bulb into my ass. When I came I fell backwards and broke the light bulb. It took a lot of straining, digging and tearing to get the metal out of my ass. I bled for two days. I don’t use anything breakable anymore."

—Name Withheld


2. I took me two weeks to get all the wax out of me

"The only thing I could find to masturbate with was a candle, and I was using that when my parents walked in. I faked being asleep, and after a while I feel asleep for real. When I woke up the candle had melted in me and it took me two weeks to get all the wax out of me."

—Name Withheld


3. I accidentally shot myself in the face several times.

"The worst I’ve done is accidentally shoot myself in the face…several times…."

—fuhrerhat


4. MY DAD WAS IN THE ROOM

"I was about 14 or so, and a regular self-diddler. One day I woke up from a nap on the couch & felt a little horn-ay & since I thought I was alone I decided to go at it, using my patented middle-finger technique. I finished with a huge moan…then suddenly I heard something, like a person clearing his throat. MY DAD WAS IN THE ROOM, sitting in his recliner—he had been there the entire time! I pretended I was sleeping and stayed there for at least an hour on the couch until my dad left the room. I was so utterly and totally mortified I have never even spoken of this until now. My dad, thankfully, never mentioned it, either."

—Name Withheld


5. I decided to see if I could fit my entire hand into my vagina.

"I was a 16-year-old girl visiting my very old-school grandparents while on summer break. I had also recently discovered the joys of masturbation. For some reason, I decided to see if I could fit my entire hand into my vagina. Well, I managed to fit it, but I couldn’t get it back out. I had to call my grandmother for help. She couldn’t get it out, either. I wound up wrapped in a blanket, sitting in the emergency room. The nice doctor managed to lube me up and stretch me enough to finally get it out."

—Handy-Work In Canada


6. I was masturbating with a Ken doll and the head came off inside me!

"This is mortifying. I still shiver and block it out when the memory arises: I tended to use whatever was available at the age of 16; in my case, my little sister’s Ken doll was just the right size. Being widely uneducated about how it all worked down there at that point, I would just sit on it and rock.

Well, we all know how easily those Ken heads popped off…yep. Into the vajayjay. The problem was, I could not get it out myself. I flipped completely out, thoughts of it going up into my uterus and damaging my internal organs (again, not properly educated!) flying through my panic-induced brain.

What did I do? I told my mother. Took a deep breath, then blurted, “I was masturbating with a Ken doll and the head came off inside me!”

The look on her face was a mixture of anger, disappointment, and embarrassment. But she took me upstairs, and attempted to get it out. I was crying, mortified to the core.

It got worse. She couldn’t get it out. So she: got. my. FATHER…who then got his pliers. That worked.

Dad never talked about it again; mom walked out of the room, scolding me, saying, ‘Come talk to me next time you want to do that!’

At least I didn’t wind up at the hospital?"

—Name Withheld


7. When I tried to get the sausage out of my pussy I couldn’t; it had broken off inside of me.

"When I was 19 I got drunk by myself. I was feeling really horny, and since I did not have a boyfriend at the time, I went to the fridge to look for something to masturbate with. All I found was a sausage, the kind that is about one-and-a-half inches around. I used that in both my vagina and ass and then passed out. The next morning I woke up and could tell I had something inside of me in both orifices, the back was easy to clear, I just used the bathroom. But when I tried to get the sausage out of my pussy I couldn’t; it had broken off inside of me. After much trying with my fingers, I finally got scared and went to the hospital. So embarrassing—it just had to be a male doctor taking it out. Well, now I only use my fingers."

—Name Withheld


8. I thought it would be fun to insert a cucumber all the way into my anus.

"I am a 19-year-old guy, and one afternoon I thought it would be fun to insert a cucumber all the way into my anus. I had done this before and was always able to pass it back out easily. Well, this time it went in, and I couldn’t get it to come back out. I also had a previous engagement with a friend that afternoon, so I reluctantly went with the cucumber still in my anus. I was fine for most of the afternoon until I felt it coming! Needless to say I had to rush for the bathroom, but nobody was the wiser. That experience scared the hell out of me, but it was still fun."

—Name Withheld


9. The orgasm was so powerful that I slipped over and hit my head.

"I was beating off in the shower one time. I don’t know why, but whenever there is water around it takes me forever to cum. Anyway, I was going hard for about 45 minutes. When I eventually came, the orgasm was so powerful that I slipped over and hit my head. Obviously I didn’t learn from the experience because I still do it all the time."

—Lunchbox7


10. I rubbed a hole in my penis with a chalkboard eraser.

"Oh, fuck. Don’t ask me how or why, but I used an eraser once (twice maybe a dozen)…chalkboard, not pencil. Oh so softly under ye ol’ head…crazy wicked feeling doing it that way. All was fine and dandy until one day I couldn’t bust. So fast and fast I erased until….OWWWWWWWWWWWW holy shit I rubbed a hole in it. Rubbed myself raw, literally, bled, sore ouch."

—GSRIDER


11. I had 30 stitches in my cock.

"Well, I did a real dumb thing about 11 years ago. I had this flute-style glass flower vase, and it looked perfect for masturbation. The right width and length. So, I opened this old trunk I had and put it between the open lip and the lid. When I got on my knees it was the perfect height. Well, it was working great until I put too much pressure on the lid and it crushed the vase with my cock inside it. I put the pressure on it right when I was cumming, and it severely severed my dick. There was blood everywhere, and I had to have emergency surgery. The wounds were superficial and I had 30 stitches in my cock. It was extremely painful, and I contemplated suicide many times, and almost did it once. I have lived with the terror and humiliation beyond all description. I realize that others think it’s funny, but I have very painful flashbacks and I’ve never been able to have another relationship or sleep with a woman since. I doubt I ever will. My cock has a barely visible scar on it, but it is there. Often I think back to it and I can barely overcome my shame. I can’t even talk to a counselor; maybe the anonymous sharing of my story is the first step."

—Name Withheld


12. I was crawling around in the shower for at least 20 minutes trying to wash it all out of my eyes.

"The first time I masturbated in the shower I didn’t really expect my cum to shoot out so fiercely, so I wasn’t aiming and I let myself ejaculate freely. Unfortunately my accuracy was way off and it shot straight into my left eye! I was crawling around in the shower for at least 20 minutes trying to wash it all out of my eyes."

—Name Withheld


13. I had a sex with a glass Coca-Cola bottle. It became stuck and wouldn’t come off…

"I had a sex with a glass Coca-Cola bottle. It became stuck and wouldn’t come off and I realized it was because of vacuum pressure in that bottle caused it to seal inside my pussy. I had the ambulance come to drill a little hole on the pop bottle for it to let some air release and it came off. Never would fuck the damn bottle again. I love any toys beside something like this!"

—Name Withheld


14. After 3-4 hours of effort, I dialed 999 with my heel.

"Until last year, I practiced self-bondage. I got off on the thrill of the struggle to escape. One evening while my boyfriend was working abroad, I got carried away and irreparably bound myself, wearing my tightest corset, nylons, 7″ heels, nipple clamps, and a ball-gag. I managed to knock the phone onto the floor and after 3-4 hours of effort, I dialed 999 [England’s version of 911] with my heel. I couldn’t say anything but the police broke in and rescued me. The sergeant said he’d never seen anything like it in 40 years on the force. I live in a small town, so I moved shortly thereafter due to the embarrassment."

—Name Withheld


15. What I had thought was cum was actually blood!

"So, this happened to me a few nights ago. I was super horny, so I started going at it when my roommate was out. I had my vibrator and some music going and everything. I can’t orgasm without penetration, but usually I can’t get wet enough to lubricate myself enough to actually have amazing orgasms. But somehow, this night, I was. I did my thing, and I had about 5 orgasms, one right after another! I’d never had that many before. Needless to say, things were a little messy on my sheets. I turned on the lights to look for the box of baby wipes to clean off my hands, and put my pajamas back on, when I noticed I had blood all over my hands! My period had started about a week early. What I had thought was cum was actually blood! And to make matters worse, it was all over my sheets and bedspread! Now, normally I wash my sheets the day after a heavy masturbation session, because I’m usually too tired to strip the bed right then, but I had to get them in the wash before the blood set in and stained. It was around 3 in the morning, and I had to wait for my sheets to wash and dry before I could go back to bed. The worst part was that I had just washed them and put them on the bed the day before! I felt so embarrassed for myself afterwards, even though nobody else knew about it."

—fairytalekiddo


16. The dildo went too far up.

"4 months ago. I had anal masturbation.

The dildo went too far up. When taking it out, I saw some blood (not in a ‘drop0like manner,’ is was more like mixed with some other stuff).

Since that happened I experience anal pain once in a while. My fecal matter does not contain blood.

The pain stopped a month ago, but it was replaced by a lower back pain. And today…it’s pretty painful (except when lying down on the bed)."

—Name Withheld


17. ‘I’m sorry the little sinner’s late, he was playing with himself in the bath.’

"My tale of woe was at the ripe age of 13. I was running late for school, and would have to get a lift in anyhow. I decided as I had the time and the night before had been particularly…arousing, dream wise, I’d enjoy myself. As I was reaching climax my mother burst through the door, having heard the noise, raving and screaming. This could have been the end of it, but oh no. She dragged me out of the bath (first incident of blue balls to boot.) Grabbed me by my arm, had me get dressed, and drove me in to school. Lecturing the entire way (Catholic family.) Once we reached school I thought it was over. How wrong I was. She marched me into school, into the morning assembly and up to the deputy headmaster, declaring, ‘I’m sorry the little sinner’s late, he was playing with himself in the bath.’

Suffice to say, I died a little that day."

—Name Withheld


18. Wanted. To. Die.

"I had just finished the deed when my four-year-old decided to wake up, open my bedroom door, and ask to come up into my bed. I toss the vibrator under my pillow, natch, and pull the covers a little tighter around me so the little one doesn’t catch mommy without her bottoms on.

He curls up next to me, slides his arm under my neck and lo and behold, grabs my vibe. He slides it out from under my pillow, holds it up like the Statue of Liberty torch, and says, ‘Mama, wut’s dis?’ Trying to think quickly, I replied, ‘Oh honey, that’s just something for making headaches go away. Give it to mommy.’

With that, my beautiful, mop-topped, brown-eyed baby boy finds the ‘on’ switch and starts running my big ol’ dildo all over his head. ‘Like this, Mama? You do it like this?’

Wanted. To. Die.

Next day, his father comes to pick him up for the weekend. (We’re divorced). Comes in and says, ‘Cher, you got anything for a headache? My head is killing me.’

With that, my son runs into my room, dives under my pillow, finds my vibrator again (I had shoved it back under there after regaining control of it the night before) and comes running out, waving it.

‘Here, Daddy! Mommy showed me this last night! She said it helps for headaches.’

Wanted. To. Die…Again.

Apparently, my little boy has forgotten this story over the years (he is 15 now), but I do believe that when he hits 21 or becomes engaged to that special someone, I will break out the story at the most inopportune and inappropriate time in his life.

Call it ‘Mama’s Revenge.’"

—Name Withheld


19. I never tried anything sexual with my brother again.

"My kid brother was only around five years old at the time of this incident. I was around seven, which will hopefully spare me any accusations of being a horrible child molester. The incident unfolded as follows: I was lying on the couch with my pants down, rubbing myself with my security blanket. My kid brother walked in the room and didn’t notice anything weird going on. There was a palm frond on the floor (it was shortly after Easter), and it struck me that the frond would feel very nice tickling my anus. So I asked my brother to do it for me, since I couldn’t masturbate and perform palm-frond tickling at the same time. He complied for about three seconds before his freak-out mechanism kicked in. He sprinted upstairs and told my mom what I was doing. She spanked me and took away my security blanket, which I never saw again.

In my own defense, I never tried anything sexual with my brother again, and have found him fairly repellent for many years now. And it wasn’t about my brother, anyway. I just needed someone to manipulate the palm frond."

—Adopted, So It’s Not Incest


20. My stepfather comes down the stairs and says, ‘Who used my toothbrush?’

"When: I was 12. Where: Bathroom. What: Stepfather’s electric toothbrush. With the subtle purring of that device, I rubbed it up and down, all around, until I was close, oh so close, to cumming. (Didn’t actually achieve the big O until I was 15.) My stepfather comes down the stairs and says, ‘Who used my toothbrush?’ How did he know? Well, it was wet (yes, I washed it), and it was dead. It needed a new charge! I said it wasn’t me, but he looked me deep in the eyes. To this day, I think he knew."

—Diane


21. My Spanish teacher never called on me or made eye contact with me again.

"I was in school and really horny (probably had my mind on some guy). So I got a pass for the bathroom, went into a stall, pulled down my pants, and started fingering myself. Suddenly the stall door opened. I hadn’t carefully locked the door in my rush to finger-fuck myself. But it wasn’t another student at the door—it was my Spanish teacher! Needless to say, I cut my Spanish class that day. My Spanish teacher never called on me or made eye contact with me again. She would, however, glance at my hands and make disgusted faces."

—Ain’t No Bedtime Story


22. I decided to put some of the chicken bones in my ass.

"I have always been sexually active with myself. When I was 13 my parents had ordered a big bucket of chicken. It was the extra-tasty crispy recipe, and I got a Dr. Pepper. I used to think the Colonel was a black guy for some reason. LOL. Anyways…I used the chicken grease as lube for touching myself and my balls. It felt nice. I sometimes would touch my butthole too and it felt good so I decided to put some of the chicken bones in my ass. I got 4 of them up there and I stopped. One of them was too pointy and stabbed me in my smelly hole. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone so I didn’t tell anyone. After a week it got really sore and I had blood shits made me cry. Pus started to come out sometimes. I had to tell my mom about it and we went to the doctor’s. The doctor thought the Colonel was a black guy, too. LOL"

—Michael


23. One night, I decided to put the garden hose up my ass.

"When I was a teenager, I got off on sneaking out of my parents’ house naked and wandering around in the woods. (We lived in the middle of nowhere.) I really dug masturbating in the darkness of the forest. One night, I decided to put the garden hose up my ass instead. I had always wanted to know how an enema felt. I was a twisted kid.

My parents were away from home, so I was outside naked earlier than usual; I stuck the garden hose up my ass and slowly turned on the water. Then I heard a car coming up the driveway. I panicked and ran into the woods. Running naked is uncomfortable. Running while squirting water out of your ass is really uncomfortable. The vehicle belonged to an uncle of mine who stopped in to check on me at my parents’ request. He had to have seen me, as it was dusk when he arrived. I hid in the woods for five and a half hours while he hung out in the house, waiting for me to come back. There were other clues around the house (a pile of clothes by the door, my porn mags), so he knew what was going on.

I went back to the house when he drove off. He had put the hose back and cleaned up all my porn stuff. He also left a freaky note promising that he wouldn’t tell my parents, and telling me that he was bisexual, I was totally freaked out."

—Woody Woodpecker


24. My dick got stuck.

"Used to work for a prosthetician, assisting in the making of false limbs. In order to make a fake leg for a client, we had to make an accurate mold of the stump. To do this, we used a powder called Co-Alginate. You mix it with water for five minutes before you apply it to a patient’s stump. It then rapidly solidifies into a hard and gel-like yet pleasantly slick substance, which can easily be removed from the patient’s stump with a firm yank.

I thought a good Co-Alginate fucking would be a great way to spend a bathroom break. I took a decent-sized jar and some Co-Alginate powder to the bathroom with me and locked the door. I mixed a little water in with the powder, got it to a nice slimy semi-hard texture, and stuck in my dick. You can probably guess what happened next: My dick got stuck. I tugged it and tugged it, but I couldn’t tug it as hard as you would to get it off of somebody’s leg, because it hurt and I didn’t want to pull my dick off. I actually had to yell for someone to bring me a cast-cutting saw."

—Cock Stuck in Jar TC mark

What Each Myers-Briggs Personality Type Means When They Say ‘I Love You’

Posted: 13 May 2016 06:00 PM PDT

the_bird_dodo
the_bird_dodo

ENFP: I’m enthralled by you.

It’s not that their love lacks depth, intensity or commitment – quite the opposite, in fact – but when an ENFP says they love you, you can guarantee their heart is turning a thousand miniature cartwheels every time you enter the room. This type loves the way they do everything else – passionately, fully and enthusiastically. The thought of you drives them wild and their ‘I love you’ roughly translates to ‘My heart is basically BURSTING OUT OF MY CHEST every time I think about you, which is approximately all of the time.’

ENTP: I’m fascinated by you.

ENTPs view relationships the way they view everything in their lives – as an exciting puzzle to be explored and investigated. This type falls into fascination with the people in their lives – wanting to learn as much as they can about them and piece together their intricacies. When this type says ‘I love you,’ they are not just promising to care for you, they are letting you know that they are absolutely fascinated by you – and that they want to spend a significant amount of time trying to figure you out.

ISTJ: I will maintain my commitment to you come hell or high water.

When an ISTJ loves you, he or she is in it for the long haul. So long as both of you are on the same page, this dedicated type is willing to put in a seemingly endless amount of effort to make a relationship work. ‘Love’ truly is a verb to the ISTJ, and when they tell you ‘I love you,’ they’re preaching their unshakeable commitment to you.

INFP: Loving you has become a part of who I am.

Love is a deeply personal experience to the INFP and they take the feeling anything but lightly. When an INFP loves you, they aren’t just concerned for your wellbeing – they feel all of your pains, your struggles and your triumphs as their own. Loving you becomes a part of their core identity and part of the way in which they define their very selves. When this type says ‘I love you,’ they are letting you know that the way they feel about you has infiltrated their most intimate thoughts and emotions.

INTP: I will never stop trying to understand you.

INTPs may not be the most showy or romantic lovers, but they display their devotion subtly – by consistently trying to understand their partner (and their needs) better. This type enjoys analysing and dissecting what makes their loved ones tick – and the more they love you, the more invested they will be in this process. When an INTP says ‘I love you,’ what they’re really saying is that they’re committed to getting to understand you better and better every day.

ESTJ: I will spend my life striving to provide for you.

ESTJs are extremely invested in the wellbeing of their loved ones. Though they may not be gushy or showy when it comes to their affection, they make sure that the people they care about want and need for nothing. When an ESTJ says ‘I love you,’ they are telling you that they plan to work hard to make sure your needs are met – in whichever way they’re able to – for as long as they possibly can.

ESFJ: I want the world to know that you’re on my team.

To an ESFJ, love means being in sync with someone – and committing to tackle life together long-term. This affectionate type adores showering their loved ones with care and attention. They want to shout it from the rooftops when they’re deeply in love – and when they say ‘I love you,’ they’re really saying that they aren’t afraid to tell the world that you’re together – because they plan to be in it for the long run.

ISFJ: I value your happiness as my own.

ISFJs are selective about who they fall in love with – but once they fall, they fall deeply and completely. This huge-hearted type takes on the needs of their lovers as their own. They genuinely find it difficult to be personally happy if their loved ones are distressed, and therefore take it upon themselves to provide diligently for the people they care about. When an ISFJ says ‘I love you,’ they are telling you that they are incredibly invested in your happiness – and that they want to help you achieve it at any cost.

INTJ: I see a future with you.

To the future-focused INTJ, saying ‘I love you’ is not just an expression of affection – it’s a promise. This type is highly selective about who they invest themselves in emotionally – and if they have allowed themselves to fall in love with you, you can bet they’re picturing you in their future long-term. When an INTJ tells you ‘I love you,’ they’re telling you that you’re someone they hope to have in their lives for a very long time.

INFJ: I trust you with my heart.

INFJs are both overwhelmingly caring and notoriously skeptical of others – which results in them being highly selective about whom they place their trust in. For this type to fall fully in love, they need to feel completely comfortable with their partner – and to believe that they are someone they could fit with longterm. If an INFJ says ‘I love you,’ they are letting you know that they trust you – and that they see a future alongside you.

ENFJ: I will never stop trying to make you happy.

There is nothing the ENFJ type loves more than fostering deep, supportive relationships with their loved ones. When this type truly cares for someone, there is nothing they will not do to make that person happy. If an ENFJ tells you ‘I love you,’ you can rest assured that what they really mean is, ‘Your happiness is my happiness from this point onward.’

ENTJ: I would do anything on earth to protect you.

ENTJs may not be particularly expressive when it comes to their emotions, but the truth about this type is that they would absolutely take a bullet for the people they are devoted to. When an ENTJ says ‘I love you,’ what they’re really saying is that there’s nothing they wouldn’t do to help you succeed and to keep you protected from harm.

ESTP: I want to be your superhero.

ESTPs are notoriously adventurous and daring – but what is underrated about this type is their protective and softhearted side. When an ESTP loves you, they will eternally want to swoop in to save the day when things are falling apart for you. This type shows love through action – and when they tell you ‘I love you,’ what they really mean is, ‘I will be here to care and look out for you.’

ESFP: I choose you.

ESFPs live in a world of people possibilities – so when they’re willing to settle down with just one person, you can rest assured that they aren’t just blindly falling for you – they’re choosing you. Deliberately and pointedly. An ESFP saying ‘I love you,’ is them saying ‘I prioritise you above other people’ – and for a type as people-focused as the ESFP, that’s no small feat.

ISFP: We are meant for each other.

ISFPs are cautious and slow when it comes to falling in love – but when they do so, it’s because they feel as though they’ve truly found their other half. This type craves a deep, soulful connection with their significant other, and they are not quick to hand out ‘I love you’s.’ When this type tells you those three little words, it means they truly see you as the person their life has been missing all along.

ISTP: I want to prioritise you.

ISTPs may not be showy romantics, but they can always be counted on to tangibly demonstrate their love. When an ISTP truly cares about someone, they don’t mind making a few compromises and rearranging their lifestyle in order to accommodate them. When this type tells you ‘I love you,’ they’re making a promise to prioritise you above the independent lifestyle they treasure. TC mark

8 Scary Movies Streaming On Netflix You Should Watch To Celebrate Friday The 13th

Posted: 13 May 2016 05:00 PM PDT

Every Friday the 13th is a mini-holiday for people who love horror movies as we celebrate a day full of superstitions and the namesake of one of the movie franchises that created the horror world we love today. Here are some suggestions for a lovely scary movie night to have with your partner tonight:

Honeymoon

Honeymoon
Honeymoon

I randomly watched this movie one night without hearing anything about it beforehand, it was a total Netflix roulette — one of the best movie gambles I’ve ever taken. The plot is standard (but still creepy): a couple on a honeymoon at a remote cabin in the woods. However, it manages to feel totally fresh and new (and scary). And as a bonus, the lead actress is my favorite Game of Thrones cast member.

Preservation

Preservation
Preservation

If you liked The Strangers you will love Preservation. The plot is very unsettling as a small group of campers are targeted by masked madmen for no apparent reason.

Children of the Corn

Children of the Corn
Children of the Corn

Growing up in a rural town with a lot of corn fields this entire series was a staple for everyone I knew. All I really remembered was how cheesey the series got as it went on but I recently rewatched the original and holy crap, this Stephen King story is creepy. Definitely worth a rewatch, especially for anyone who knows what “knee high by fourth of July” means.

Killer Legends

Killer Legends
Killer Legends

This is a documentary, not a fiction movie. It details some particularly frightening urban legends and it’s one of the best I’ve ever seen. It’s so interesting and so scary, you’ll end up with the same feeling of worry with every bump in the night.

Hush

Hush
Hush

I LOVED Hush because it’s a totally new idea for a horror movie — and one I’ve often thought about while watching slash movie antagonists stalk their prey: how would the killer adjust if something went wrong?

Kristy

Kristy
Kristy

This movie will unnerve you next time you’re in a public place that happens to be a little bit abandoned. It takes place on a college campus over Thanksgiving break. There are plenty of security officers around, but that doesn’t stop the main character from being stalked by a menacing masked gang who insist on calling her “Kristy”.

Dark Skies

Dark Skies
Dark Skies

I don’t know if I’m the only one out there — but alien movies scare me more than almost any other kind. It’s the fear of the unknown, how do you fight off something you know very little about? This movie is full of jumps and scares, turn off all the lights and hold onto each other during the suspenseful scenes.

Don’t Blink

Don't Blink
Don’t Blink

If you’re down to be totally scared on your movie night, save this for another day. However, if you’re up for a fresh concept served with a little bit of cheese, Don’t Blink is a good pick. A group of friends go on a retreat to a remote lodge in the woods, when one by one they start disappearing… TC mark

Learn To Be Happy Without Them, And Then Let Them Go

Posted: 13 May 2016 04:00 PM PDT

adam.barabas
adam.barabas

There are many people that come and go in our lives. The faces of people in my past sometimes run through my head like a slideshow or pages of a picture book being flipped through quickly. I have suffered heart break with them and shared many laughs, but they no longer need to physically be in my life. I recall events with them so clearly that I could write a memoir and list their names on the dedication page. I am beyond thankful for the lessons and memories, whether they are happy or sad.

I believe that every person that walks into your life is a chapter in your story. They may be a guest character that comes and goes, or they could be a main character that sticks around until the conclusion. Either way, every character serves a purpose. It's crucial to your well-being to know this and to be able to accept when someone is no longer necessary in the plot.

Know that while this person may not be replaced, the void from their absence can be filled in the future if you allow it to.

As you grow older it will come as second nature to know when someone is finished with their part. Your natural instincts will kick in and you will know it's time to let them go. It may not be a sign blasted directly in your face, but you will sense it in the back of your mind. Having a major fall out with a person isn't always the way the relationship comes to an end.

It may be when you have a dead end conversation with a friend and you feel like it is being forced. They may appear uninterested in good things happening in your life and you feel like it is sucking your positive energy out by being around them. Or you may simply feel like spending time with them is an obligation. Have you ever left a person and felt mentally drained? They may not have even done anything wrong. Their role in your life is just not fitting in with the storyline any longer.

Relationships should always feel genuine, even if they are not necessarily easy.

Sometimes it is surprising; a person you think won't play a major role in your life, ends up sticking it out, and every time you see each other you can carry on a conversation as if no time has passed. You should be able to pick up where you left off every time you see each other, and not feel like you are always rebuilding your connection. Time and distance should never prevail over your bond, if it does you will continue to grow apart, and the chapters of your life will continue to be written with or without them.

You have to always remind yourself that it is okay to let people go. It is also important to forgive them if they have acted out against you, and respect the purpose they had in your life. The time you have on this planet is limited and you must continue to make room for more memories and experiences with new people. Refrain from getting stuck in negativity so you are free to constantly change and move with where your life leads you.

Break the chains of obligation that keep you involved with someone that takes more than they give and learn to be happy without them.

It may be easier than you think. You get to decide how your story goes, which characters play a major role, and who you let mentally drag you down. Wouldn't you rather your story be a positive one? TC mark

This Is The Kind Of Fuckboy A Guy Will Be, According To His ‘Love Language’

Posted: 13 May 2016 03:00 PM PDT

Jérôme Licht
Jérôme Licht

1. Quality Time

It's frighteningly easy to be blinded by the ways of a fuckboy who sincerely craves quality time. He'll invite you over to hang out so you can actually watch Netflix and chill for a while before he makes a move. When you wake up lying beside him after spending the night, he'll encourage you to stick around for coffee and breakfast. Naturally, you'll interpret these invitations to linger as evidence that he's interested. It’ll be tough to see his overtures as misleading because he genuinely wants you around. But the fact is that a QT fuckboy doesn't really care who's actually there. Yes, he craves your company, but only so much as he craves the next girl's.

2. Physical Touch

The fuckboy whose love language is physical touch will win you over with masterful expressions of affection. He will take every opportunity to touch you, ever so tenderly, on the shoulder or the upper leg or the small of your back. He will hold your hand tightly whenever he can, and cradle your face gently between his palms as he kisses you in a way that tastes of long-term commitment and everlasting fidelity. He might offer you a massage before bed, or as soon as you wake up. And he will cuddle you all night long. But you are merely a body to him—a pawn in his plan to get what he needs from a fellow human’s physique. In group settings, you'll see how flirtatious he is with so many others, touching them shamelessly as he touches you, right before your eyes.

3. Words of Affirmation

Flattery can be more effective than any other tactic in winning someone over and the fuckboy whose love language is words of affirmation knows this. He traffics in compliments, dishing them out to woman after woman night after night. An expert at identifying just what a person wants to hear, he'll ask you the right questions and shower you with seemingly thoughtful positive comments. In praising people, he's not afraid to get specific or dramatic—about how stunning you look, how remarkably unique every aspect of your personality is, or how startlingly brilliant you are. A quintessential ass-kisser, he will talk his way into making you think he's your certified soulmate.

4. Receiving Gifts

If he's set on sleeping with you, the fuckboy fluent in receiving gifts will show up at your doorstep clutching a giant bouquet of flowers, irresistible old school gentleman style, or a first edition copy of your favorite book. How could you not be totally impressed? He might even surprise you at the beginning of class with a small but quasi-meaningful trinket, or pop by your place of work at lunchtime with your favorite sandwich. He knows how to make an entrance, and you'll marvel at his generosity. But as soon as he gets what he wants, the presents will suddenly stop because he's way too busy gifting his next target.

5. Acts of Service

The fuckboy whose love language is acts of service has a sixth sense for figuring out how to make himself useful. His aim is to get in your pants by easing your daily burden however he can. Sensing when you’re stressed or tired, he’ll offer to help you out in a way that makes you instantly grateful, whether that means running across campus to drop off your paper so you can nap, taking out the garbage, or finishing a load of laundry so you can go to the gym. He'll run errands for you without ever being asked to. Any outsider looking in would mistake this behavior as the work of a man who's husband material, but this fuckboy has no intention of sticking around. He'll be doing another woman's dishes in no time. TC mark

Fuck It, I Choose Myself

Posted: 13 May 2016 02:00 PM PDT

Eleazar
Eleazar

Inside every single one of us, there is a dream. There is a wealthy heart surgeon. A football superstar. A Hollywood actress. There is a best-selling novelist and a head of a beautiful family. There is a businessman and a world traveler. A lawyer, a professor, a musician. There is also something called doubt, a feeling we are bound to from birth to death.

To that, I say "Fuck it, I choose myself".

We live in a society that expect things from us. It expects us to follow a certain path, study a certain subject, marry a certain person and even believe in a certain God. If you happen to disagree with one of these expectations, too bad. You are a misfit; a rebel that has no sense of gratefulness. You are a self-entitled Millennial who, despite being given every opportunity in the world, has chosen to be selfish.

Except you are not.

My biggest fear in life is dying with regrets. Sharks and serial killers are scary, yes, but nothing comes even close to the hypothetical situation of looking back as I am in my deathbed and realizing I did not do the things I wanted to.

It may sound cliché and all, but it's true. And the problem is that if it is up to society, that's exactly what is going to happen. I will go to grad school, get a good paying job, meet a lovely woman, move to the suburbs and start a family.

I don't to want to wake up in a beautiful house with a beautiful family on April 28th of 2026 and realize that I gave up on all the things I believed in.

The idea of settling down and raising two cute toddlers does sound appealing to me (emphasis on the cute, please), but there is more to life than that.

There is more than doing just what you are supposed to.

That is exactly why I have adopted the "Fuck it, I choose myself" philosophy. I want to choose the path of my life, chose who I am and choose who I become. But don't get me wrong: that doesn't make me a selfish greedy bastard. I still want to help and inspire others, serve a community and change the world.

It just means I want to do it my way.

No pressure from my parents, professors or friends. I want to be able to sing like Frank Sinatra did, shouting to the world that, "I've lived a life that is full, I've traveled each and every highway. And more, much more than this, I did it my way."

Since realizing that choosing myself allows me to make a greater contribution to the world, I have chased after every dream I have ever had. I left home in Brazil and moved to the United States for college. I backpacked throughout Europe for a whole summer by myself. I finally finished writing my first novel. But there is still much to do. There is New York City this summer, Switzerland in the fall and Washington D.C. in the spring.

And then there is the year after. And 2018. And the rest of my life.

To you, who still need to be convinced, I propose you a challenge. Define what happiness and success means to you. After that, name three people who best match your description. You will most likely find that these people were brave enough to say "Fuck it, I choose myself".

They were brave enough to battle against the status quo and say "NO!" to society's expectations.

This is not a rebel's rant. I'm actually quite the opposite of a rebel. If you look at me, you will just see a normal looking (although my mom says I am cute) college student. Average height, average weight. I have an average job and get slightly above average grades. I am average in most aspects, to be honest.

Not on the ones that truly matter, however.

The mindset is not average and the attitudes are definitely not ordinary.
And that makes all the difference. TC mark

40 Hilarious Cartoons That Explain Exactly Why Your Life Is So F*cked-Up  

Posted: 13 May 2016 01:00 PM PDT

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TC mark

I Know Enough To Know That I Like You

Posted: 13 May 2016 12:00 PM PDT

BYONELOVE
BYONELOVE

I don't know your favorite movie but I know I want to watch it with you on Sunday night, laying on your couch sharing a blanket and a bag of popcorn.

I don't know your favorite restaurant but I know I want to go there with you, sipping wine and talking about our past, our adventures, our family and our friends. I want us to exchange stories as we exchange looks across the table.

I don't know your favorite country but I know I want to go there with you, so we can explore its culture and its beauty as we explore the beauty within ourselves and get to know each other as we walk through the crowded streets holding hands and as we tour all the museums getting lost in their art. I want us to discover our art too; the strokes of our own beauty and the marks of our own pain.

I don't know your best friends but I know I want to meet them and listen to their stories about you and your memories together. I want to see how much they love you and what kind of influence you have on them, I want to know what kind of friend you are and if you will be my best friend too.

I don't know your favorite book, but I know I want to read it. I want to understand what inspires you, what moves you and the words that touch your beautiful soul. I want to know what stimulates your mind and what captures your heart and I want to read it all that and memorize it.

I don't know if you prefer running or lifting weights but I know I want to run with you wherever you want to go and I know I want to lift some of the weight off your shoulders if you would let me. I want to show you that you don’t have to run or lift alone anymore.

I don't know how you act when you're upset; maybe you throw tantrums or maybe you just lock yourself in your room isolating yourself from the world, but I know I want to be there for you when you're upset, I want to do whatever it takes to make you feel better, I want you to trust me that even if I don't understand your pain, I'll try to make it go away or I'll stay beside you until it goes away.

I don't know who you loved before and how they loved you but I know it wasn't right. I know it left you wounded, I know it left you bleeding and I know that I may not be able to stop all the bleeding but I can make you smile again, I can make you believe again and I can show you that love doesn’t have to be so painful or cruel. 

I don't know much about you but I know that I want to spend my time knowing more. I want to spend my days learning about your brilliance and spend my night learning about your darkness.

I don't know much about you but I know a lot about me; I know when my eyes see something that makes them sparkle and when my heart feels something real. I know when my hands touch something precious and when my soul connects with something heavenly.

I don't know much about you but I know enough about love and this looks a lot like love or maybe it's not, but I want to find out. I know enough to know that I want to dig deeper and find the hidden gems in your soul. I know enough to know that somewhere in your depth, I’ll find my treasure. TC mark

The First Time Kind Of Sex

Posted: 13 May 2016 11:00 AM PDT

haley
haley

One, two, three.

I would exhale slowly each and every time you left the room. Even if it was only for a second I felt like it was the only time I could breathe normally. Whenever you were around my shoulders would strain and jump to my earlobes, my chest would tighten and every nerve would stand at attention.

I had to pause when you were near me. Had to hold my breath and count in repetition. It was a balance. If I breathed too loudly I knew you’d feel it on your skin and my secret would be out, and if I held it longer than necessary it would be obvious how desperately I wanted you to touch me.

I dreamt about you.

Too many nights there you’d be. Creeping, cruising, and crawling inside my psyche. Whispering, “I’m here,” even when no one asked.

I would wake up with fingers under my waistband, sweaty and anxious. I would text you with hands that needed to be washed, hoping, praying that you could come over and finally scratch the itch that I could not seem to reach. I would wait for your response with anticipation, still holding my breath for you.

And then one day, we both finally gave up the act. I exhaled and you gave me CPR.

We stopped pretending to be so full of self control that neither of us actually possessed, and we gave into everything both of us had been craving.

I’ve never been the first to a finish line but I was underneath you in record time. I’ve never thought so much about needing another person or wanting someone near me until you closed the gaps between our thighs and I saw stars. You pinned my wrists above my head and even as I pushed against the weight of you I knew there was nowhere I would rather be.

I could pretend to fight it, but we both knew I would kiss the bruises the next day.

We were desperate, needy, and hungry. I was drunk off of wine and even more intoxicated by the idea of exploring every inch of your skin with my tongue. I licked up every trace of you and was still dehydrated for something I never even knew I needed. I arched and move and bent and screamed and even when my voice was hoarse I still couldn’t get enough.

For months my lips were stained like blood.

Maybe it was merlot or maybe it was you. TC mark

Read about ‘The Last Time Kind Of Sex‘ here.