Thought Catalog

12 Little (But Important) Signs That Prove You’ve Found Your Forever Person

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 08:00 PM PDT


1. You both can be completely yourselves around each other. You're never ashamed to be who you really are. No matter who the crowd is around the two of you you're both the same people, maybe just minus a little affection for the sake of those around you.

2. Neither of you feel embarrassed being naked. You can both be naked around each other and you're not constantly insecure because you're so comfortable around each other. It's truly a great feeling.

3. You can talk about anything. Your relationship has no barriers; they don't make you feel dumb or stupid for your thoughts or questions. They are open to talking to you about your doubts, fears, dreams and wants in every possible aspect of life.

4. You eat whatever and whenever you want in front of them. Neither of you have any shame in eating out of the cartoon of ice cream at 1 AM when you can't sleep. You're both down to go out for pizza or stay in and cook a home cooked meal, you have no shame in your diets because you don't feel restricted or embarrassed in front of them because salads surely aren’t always on the menu.

5. You can sing like a fool in front of each other. Whether you have a favorite duet like Party For Two – or not – you both can sing your hearts out in front of each other and laugh when one of you doesn't know the lines or messes up the words.

6. They aren't embarrassed when you make a fool of yourself. Instead of being completely embarrassed that you fell over a curb when you were drunk or sang the wrong lines to a karaoke song they just look at you and laugh. They're proud to call you theirs, no matter how embarrassing you can be.

7. He'll carry your bags. I say he because lets be real, females usually hand their boyfriends their bags. He won't complain when you hand him your purse to hold instead he throws it over his shoulder and asks how he looks. He will hold your shopping bags, even when he clearly does not shop at Victoria's Secret, but he does it because he loves you.

8. They surprise you with little things. You'll each take turns surprising each other with little treats and finding reasons to celebrate each other. Whether it's concert tickets, flowers or chocolate you know how to make each other smile.

9. The silence is never awkward. There is never awkward silence between you two, even when you've been silent for a while. It's more comforting than awkward and it makes you just appreciate the moments you share with each other.

10. You fully support and encourage each other. You are each other's own biggest fans. You're constantly backing each other up and making big plans for the future. All you want is the best for each other and it's a great feeling to have that approval and support.

11. You can laugh at each other. You are all about laughing at each other and yourselves. It's a lighthearted humor that isn't mean, but brings you closer.

12. You can fart in front of each other. This might single handedly be one of the most important factors in relationships. If you can fart in front of each other then you have completely found your forever person. Nothing says "I love you" like ripping ass on the same couch.

These Two Friends Agreed To Get Married At 30, But What Ended Up Happening Will Break Your Heart

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 07:30 PM PDT

Toa Heftiba
Toa Heftiba

A comment thread on the internet was talking about whether anybody actually went through with any of those “marriage packs” that we joke about so often.

You know the ones: where you and a mutual friend joke that, “Oh if we are still single at 40-years-old, we’ll get married!!!”

As it turns out, there was someone who did have an experience with a marriage pact. And it was a heartbreaking one:

via Imgur
via Imgur
via Imgur

Life is so fragile, and sometimes there is no way to truly understand why certain things happen. I guess all we can do is remain strong and keep going. TC mark

She Was Captured And Then Forced To Become The Hunt Master’s Submissive Sex Slave

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 07:30 PM PDT


Richard sat on top of his black stallion and used his enhanced binoculars to see across the large meadow and in to the trees on the other side. The infrared picked up thirteen women hiding in the trees. He raised his hand and beckoned forth the other riders made up of his own men and ten clients.

"They are hiding in the trees. I don't think they believe they have been spotted. We need to move quickly but remember what I said I don't want them frightened and use the technique I showed you to subdue them. If you capture a woman make sure she is reassured that you will take care of her. If I find one overly distressed woman I will take the matter further with you," Richard's warning was stark. He meant every word. The men nodded solemnly and convinced they could be relied upon to execute his orders as hunt master, he moved his horse off in to a gallop.

The thrill of the chase was upon them. Richard checked his rope and headed straight for the trees. As he entered them the women were scattering in a panic. Again, many of them looked half starved. The hunting party dispersed in all directions to chase them down but Richard locked eyes with a dark chestnut haired beauty who glared back at him with defiant turquoise eyes. She was a beautiful creature. Her body was curved, her breasts plump and her bottom was pert and round in the grey jumpsuit she was wearing. From the moment he set eyes on her the woman's innocence and defiance intrigued and captured his attention. He made her the object of his chase. Raising his rope he swung it as she ran in front of him and prepared to bring her down to the ground. But she was cunning.

She moved from tree to tree dodging the rope he prepared to lasso her with forcing the hunt master to swerve his horse and negotiate the natural obstacles. But fortune was to be on Richard's side. Glancing around to grin with triumph at her success, the woman lost her footing and tripped over a tree root and fell to the forest floor.

Richard was quick to take advantage. He trotted his horse up beside her as she tried to recover her position and perfectly arced the rope to bring it around her waist trapping her hands and arms around her body. The effect was to push her back on to the soft ground. He pulled the rope tight and as she began to kick and scream with anger at being caught. With a smile he dismounted his horse and kept the rope tight in his hand watching the helpless female struggle to evade her bindings. She looked like a small child having a tantrum.

The Hunt Master stood dominant and proud over her in his shiny black riding boots, close fitting tight white jodhpurs covering his muscled thighs, red jacket, the rope that held her captured form in one hand and a riding crop in the other. He bent down in front of her.

"Calm yourself and accept your fate. You are safe and will be well taken care of. I promise you that. If you do not I shall have to take my riding crop to your bottom until you do."

When the woman cursed him Richard took hold of the thin material of her wretched outfit and ripped it open over her bottom. Then he tore the brief white panties until her bottom was bared. On his haunches he brought the tip of the crop down across her bottom in quick succession making her yelp. This was a battle he would win.

Richard swatted the woman's bottom with his riding crop once more noticing with satisfaction that her pale skin was flushing a light shade of pink. She was sobbing but she still furiously cursed him. Her hands flew around her back trying to stop the riding crop from striking her bottom as she lay on the ground prompting Richard to grasp hold of them in his free hand and pin them down in the middle of her back.

"I wish I could gag you. Every time you swear at me, little one I am going to give your bare bottom another lash," he told her firmly.

He raised the riding crop and brought it down harder. So far he had been lenient trying to encourage the woman to calm rather than punish but she was giving him no choice. She yelped loudly and the swearing ceased on the second strike of equal force.

By the fourth the fight in her and been quelled and she was panting with her exertion. The owner of The Manor brought the woman's chastisement to an end. He put down the crop and rested his large male palm over one burning buttock listening to her cry quietly.

"Hush. It is over, little one," he said gently pleased with her stillness and acceptance of the power he held over her. "Now, keep calm while I inspect you. I promise I won't hurt you," his tone was firm but soft and coaxing as he moved his free hand between her buttocks to cover her pussy.

She shifted against the ground but did not attempt to struggle. She was still breathing hard. He cupped her sex and felt the brush of the dark curls spring and then squash against his palm. He waited, allowing her to be comfortable with the intimate hold he placed upon her then slowly and carefully he inserted his middle finger between the plump lips of her vagina.

Richard found his dark haired captive wet. Softly he stroked the pad of his finger the length of her pussy with a satisfied smile. Whipping her bottom had aroused her and now she was deliciously moist. Clearly she was a natural submissive and so beautiful. He'd never seen such a deep turquoise colour in a woman's eyes before. They were intelligent, haunted and sad but there was a strong defiance in them when she turned her head to the side and looked at him. He admired her feisty nature but the challenge to tame it was even more alluring. Richard continued to stroke unable to help himself. His cock hardened and jumped wanting him to mount her.

The woman was half starved and looked exhausted. She must have been living in fear of the breeding hunters. The girl needed rest and a bath. He found the small hole to her channel and circled it with his finger. The action produced a gentle moan of pleasure that appeared to annoy the young woman. She moved her body restlessly following the moan with a growl of defiance. Richard grinned to himself knowing just what to do to subdue her again and bring her in to submission. Firmly he thrust his finger impaling it inside of her body, using it to hold her still and in place.

He held it there moving another finger inside to enjoying the feel of the silky smooth internal vaginal muscles stretching with his dominant invasion as he tightened the grip he used to restrain her hands. She was so damn wet and growing more moist by the moment despite herself.

"Relax and keep calm. You are safe with me. I am not one of the breeding farm hunters. You will be well looked after at the Manor and a suitable husband will be found for you . . ."

But when he said the words he felt a pang of disappointment cloud his judgment. Since mounting Keiko to impregnate her last evening and through the night he had been lying awake thinking about his future and what he wanted out of life.

The Hunt Master wanted what his best friend had found with Keiko that had already been decided in his mind but when and how he was going to take action had been opened for debate until now. Why could he not just keep this woman for himself? Coax her in to accepting him as a mate if she was willing and in to perfect submission under his rule? But her sudden angry voice seemed determined to thwart his plans.

"The Manor?" there was contempt in her delicate fragile voice. "I do not want to be sold to an old man with a harem. I want to be free. I won't let you take me."

She began to struggle fiercely again despite the sudden pulse of his fingers in and out of her pussy. Richard decided to get her on her feet so he could face her and command her to listen to him.

"Get up," he said pulling her to her feet leaving his fingers inside her, using them to direct her back against him. He turned her in his arms wishing one of his hands was free to rip her shoddy garments from her body to expose her. Being naked had a calming effect on a woman captured in the hunt. It subdued her. But he did not want to remove his fingers from inside her body. He wanted to feel her come against them, wanted to see pleasure dismiss her anger and ride her face.

Richard did not know why when by rights he should have bound, gagged her and simply thrown her over his horse to carry her back to the cages but he liked tussling with her trying to prove she was safe and he could be trusted.

Why this woman after all of the ones who have passed through your hands and your bed. Why her? You've just captured her and she's difficult. Maybe that's what it is. You want the challenge of training her and seeing her kneel willingly before you even though she will fight against her need to do so. But she will want to by the time I have finished and she will enjoy it as much as I will watching her submit to my dominance over her. She is perfect.

"Stop fighting me. You know you would have been caught sooner or later. You can't evade the rules. Women like you should be under protection not out in the woods starving and trying to evade the breeding farm hunters."

She moved against him, trying to free herself. He thrust his fingers in and out of her body faster determined to quell her need to free herself. His thumb played with her clit, flexing it back and forth.

"I won't be made to be a slave to a man," she told him fiercely but this time her angry words were panted. "I . . . won't be forced . . ."

The woman's words trailed off in to a helpless moan as Richard increased the rhythm of his fingers even more thrusting in and out of her channel. She was soaking wet now despite her protests. He couldn't help wondering when she had been last held and taken by a man. She trembled against his body clearly annoyed and disturbed by her arousal at the hands of the man who had just hunted and captured her. It provoked every protective instinct Richard possessed.

"Shh, embrace your pleasure. Don't deny your feelings. You are safe with me," he whispered in her ear moving his hand to her throat to stretch her head upwards and back against him.

He stroked it lovingly as well as carefully using it as a restraining hold. Something made him brush her hair with a kiss.

The girl persisted with her struggles a while longer but she was succumbing to his touch and a second later she began to squat down on to his fingers moving her hips up and down to perfectly match the pace of his penetration. Richard's captive's body relaxed and surrendered in to his dominant hold allowing him to support her as she rode his fingers. The Hunt Master tightened the grip on her throat and she gave a pleasured cry.

"That's it. Let me take you. I will keep you safe. Let me take you," he whispered again feeling fighting her need to give him the satisfaction of seeing her come.

He smiled admiring the way her will not to submit him warred with her need to experience a forgotten pleasure with a man. But he was stronger and eventually she would realise that and surrender. She was clearly submissive in her nature by the way she had melted with his firm touch and her bare bottom whipping. He would not deny himself the pleasure of training her. The girl was too delicious a prize to pass on to the trainers at The Manor.

She was close to climax. She couldn't catch her breath and her sex was flooded, swimming with warm wetness.

"Hold it, little one until I give you permission to come."

"I can't, I can't. What have you done to me?"

"You will or I will whip your pussy. Now obey me. I am your Master now. There is no freedom except with me."

She gave a strangled cry trying to hold back her pleasure. But then a look of defiance crossed her eyes again. Her defiant will and her need to keep her independence reasserted with vigour and without waiting for his permission she came wantonly.

Richard raised one eyebrow but did not deny her climax. Her punishment would soon follow and he was looking forward to it. She was a vixen that needed to be firmly tamed. He watched the intensity of her orgasm flush her face and warm her body. She was even more beautiful in the throes of passion. He couldn't help himself, he kissed at her ear and nibbled on her lobe aching for his cock to be inside her riding her down.

Her swollen breasts pushed at the thin material of the grey boiler suit on her body. She was braless and he could distinguish the tantalising shape of the large curved mounds through the material, the nipples pushing to free themselves through the garment. He couldn't wait to expose her body and examine her closely. But the woman needed to be punished, collared and leashed before her temper would allow him to fully and intimately inspect all of her body. Finally she slumped spent against him.

"That was breathtaking," he said continuing to pulse his finger in and out of her enjoying the feeling of her body jumping with the after shocks of satiated pleasure. "But you have to learn some discipline, little one. You will be mastered whether you like it or not. This is the rule of law now and it for your protection."

"I will never bend to your rule," she almost spat the words at him prompting him in to action.

He grinned and tightened his hold on her throat just a little more before lifting his hand from her pussy to press his wet fingers at her lips. With a whimper she opened her mouth and enabled him to thrust them in hard and firm forcing her to taste her own juice.

"See how wet you were when I took you with my fingers. You were wet after I had taken the riding crop to your bottom as well. That tells me that under all of that angry temper of yours you are a natural born submissive, little one. It is impossible to hide from and I will teach you how to embrace it. When you finally let go and allow yourself to accept you want to be ruled by a man you will find great pleasure in serving me."

She tried to struggle and whimper against his fingers in her mouth to show him she would not be tamed. Her leg kicked at his own making him wind one of his booted legs around one of them to hold her in place increasing her feeling of helplessness in his grasp.

"There is no escape from who you really are. Believe me I have tried, little girl. It always fails. I am a Dominant and you are a submissive. It is the way we were made. Why deny it? You can continue to fight me but I know that by the time I have disciplined you for taking your pleasure without permission in these woods I will have you kneeling naked at my feet awaiting my command."

He couldn't help but laugh when she moved furiously against him. Taking his fingers out of her mouth and ignoring the curses and denial she spat at him he took hold of the front of the boiler suit and began ripping it away from her body refusing to wait any longer for her to be naked and subservient before him.

Richard made short work of her clothes and soon the boiler suit lay in tatters around her. Her breasts bounced free leaving her only in her panties and laced up white sand shoes. He lifted her around her waist and carried her struggling form to the nearest tree.

It was an ancient beech tree with a wide trunk and perfect for disciplining her against. The bark was not too rough and her skin would not chafe. He pressed her up to it and held her shoulder while his free hand reached for the black silk tie that he wore under his red Hunt Master's riding jacket. He pulled it out and loosened it ducking to avoid the slap of her hand. Once it was free he roughly brought her wrists together and tied her hands. He stood in front of her to dissuade her from running even though her hands had been bound and undid the buckle on his belt.

She looked at him alarmed. He smiled.

"I won't ever hurt or rape you and I will not allow anyone else to either. I am not just your Master but your protector, little one. But there will always be consequences for bad behaviour. You will be punished if you break my rules," he told her firmly removing the belt from the loops in his jodhpurs to thread it around her bound hands forcing them to rise above her head.

He watched her breasts strain to flatten themselves against her chest as he placed the belt around the thinnest branch on the tree above her. Richard secured it and stood back to admire his handiwork watching her test it in an effort to free herself from his makeshift prison.

Her sexy cherry lips pouted like a naughty girl when she found she could not remove her bindings. The girl narrowed her beautiful eyes at him and for a moment he saw vulnerability and fear glow in them. His heart leapt. This show of bravado she kept up was unnecessary with him. He wanted her to understand she was protected but gaining her trust and guiding her to relax in to her need to submit was going to be a long journey. Living wild in the woods for so long unprotected, without love and care from a man in a harsh violent new society was bound to have taken its toll on her and every defence she had would be on hyper alert especially around men. He had no choice but to break every one of them down, steal inside and storm the castle.

Richard went to retrieve his riding crop and came to tower over her. He placed the end of the crop between her breasts making her breathe hard.

"What is your name?" he asked in a smooth velvet voice turning his head as he inspected the attributes of her small exposed curved body.

Wetness still glistened on the dark springing curls of her sex making him harden again. She was beautiful and she would no doubt fetch a handsome price but he wanted her all for himself.

"I am not telling you."

Richard's lips curled in to an amused smile as he trailed the leather end of the riding crop over one pert dark puckered nipple and used it to flex the teat back and forth. She bent her head and watched it become tight and erect with its forced manipulation.

"Oh you will, little one."

"No, I won't."

A small cry of pain erupted from between her lips when he surprised her by raising the riding crop to swat the end neatly and expertly over the tight nipple twice.

"I will ask you again? What is your name? And this time I expect you to answer me and not give me any more arrogant cheek, little girl," he demanded in a fatherly tone.

She stared at him, eyes wide as he moved the crop to the second breast and suddenly struck it with the whip. Another cry came from her lips but this time there was a startled aroused tone to it. Richard found himself grinning even more and having to force his face back to being stern before she looked up from studying her nipple and the way it pulled taut with need.

The woman clearly felt wet between her thighs once more because she rubbed them together as though trying to appease some strange aching need. She appeared confused by her feelings and once more she pulled at his heart strings. The girl definitely could not understand her need to submit to him.

"I am waiting."

"Rose," she answered timidly. "Rose Hartwell."

"That's a lovely name," he informed her softly trailing the crop's end down her gently curving abdomen until it hovered over the top of her wet pussy.

"Now, Rose open your legs as wide as you can get them. Do it," he commanded in an even voice keen to begin her punishment before the men who accompanied him on the hunt began to wonder where he was.

Richard wanted to keep Rose separate from the other women and from the prying eyes of the client's looking for prospective brides. The only way would be to declare her a problem to the other women with her defiance and separately cage her. But first there were other matters to attend to.

Rose hesitated looking at him. She shook her head and clamped her legs shut together.

"What are you going to do to me?" she breathed.

Richard moved closer to her until their bodies almost pressed together. She was so small and fragile next to him. The urge to hold her in his arms and soothe her was the strongest he had ever experienced with a woman. He wanted to protect and care for her but she had to be made to understand he was Dominant and he would have his rule over her and the other women entrusted in to his care in the Manor respected and obeyed. Punishment was now to be a way of life for Rose as a submissive when she was disobedient and it was one she would eventually come to respect. Punishments would provide her with the safe boundaries she needed to live a happy healthy and protected life in his care.

"I am going to whip your pussy and make you hold your orgasm until I give you permission to come," he whispered watching her lips moisten and part with anxiety and anticipation.

"But it will sting and hurt," she said nervously.

He did not miss the pleading and the curiosity in her voice. It was as though she wanted him to confirm how it would feel. The quick sudden strikes across her breasts by the crop had confused her. Rose hadn't known whether she was feeling pain or pleasure or both at the same time.

"Yes, it will," he told her in a low velvet voice stroking his fingers along her jaw. "But when you learn to appreciate the lash of the whip against your clitoris and become open to embracing the pain then pleasure will automatically follow." TC mark

27 Men Confess The Times They Were Completely Clueless To A Girl’s Flirting

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 07:00 PM PDT

via Lookcatalog
via Lookcatalog


I was on a plane ride back from vacation one year when I was 16-ish. I went to the front of the plane to use the restroom and as I’m walking back to my seat, this girl hands me a piece of paper and goes, “You dropped this.”

I’m one hundred percent confident that I didn’t have any paper in my pocket beforehand, so I politely say, “No, I didn’t, but thank you.”

“Yes. You did. You dropped this,” she says firmly.

At this point, I’m irritated that this girl clearly doesn’t realize that I’m more aware of the contents of my pockets than she is, so I tell her once again, in front of increasingly bewildered passengers, that I did not drop any paper.

Her mom (I assume) laughs, and the poor girl, exasperated at this point, says “Just take the paper!” So I say, “Fine!” And return to my seat, where my parents laugh at me while I open the paper with her phone number on it and realize I’m the dumbest person I will ever meet.



She showed me her nipple piercing, by removing her entire shirt and bra.

I said, looks nice.

She said, did you get a close look?

I said, yup they did a good job.

Shirt went back on.



Years ago I was crushing on this girl HARD, for months. She worked for the same company I did, but in different building, so we rarely had the opportunity to interact. We’d probably only spoken a couple of times in passing.

Well, a few days before Christmas one year, she comes waltzing up to me unexpectedly at work, wearing one of those party headbands with a springy plastic mistletoe bouncing around over her head. Says something like, “Hey, whats up. Like my hat?”

“Uh…yeah, cute,” I say.

“It’s mistletoe…,” she says, with a big shaky grin. “People have been trying to kiss me, can you believe it!”

My dumbass responds with. “Yeah. That sound’s pretty inappropriate,” like I’m damn Dwight Shrute from The Officeor something.

She says, “Oh, ok” and hightails it out of the building without looking at another person.

At the time I was a little heartbroken that the girl I thought I liked was the type to just randomly go around asking coworkers to kiss her, and I resented being lumped in with them (arrogance). Didn’t occur to me until later that I was probably the only person she approached. Shit, she probably went out and got the silly hat specifically to set up that scenario with me because it was clear that I didn’t have the balls to make the first move beyond giving her puppy-dog eyes for half a year. The way she shuffled away was like someone punched in the gut.




I had a girl ask me once if I wanted to sleep with her. It was nearly a year later that it occurred to me that she might have been serious.



Honestly, girls being forward is even more confusing than girls giving hints. I’ve had a conversation like this more times than I would like to admit (two. I’ve had it two times)

Me: I’m bored, what do you wanna do?

Her: we could have sex

Me: haha very funny. Grand theft auto?



I used to flirt with one of the female bartenders at a bar I worked at. It was really fun and there were so many signs.

The biggest one that I should have obviously taken was when we left work at about 4am and I tried tickling her. No reaction and then she says:

“I’m only ticklish in one place.”

She then began to rub her inner thighs near her lady parts. Basically giving me permission to go in and “tickle” her.

I laughed and said:

“Oooo now I know how to torture you with tickles. I’ll get you next shift.”

Drove home. On the way home wow did I realise what just happened. She did not like the denial and that door was closed forever. :(



Was watching a movie together on a couch and she went to lay her head on my lap. I got up to get her a pillow and blanket and set her up on the other end of the couch.

In my defense it was the first time watching The Matrix.



A girl once said to me “did you know that if people look you a lot in the eyes, it means that they either want to kiss or kill you?” and then she stared me down. I was very confused about why she would want to kill me if she had spend so much time talking with me.



Her: want to share a taxi back to my place?

Me: sure I can drop you off then go home myself.

Woke up in the middle of that night and knew exactly what I’d done.



High school, 9th grade (aka freshman year). Super hot girl, my friend, and me are hanging out. We go back to her place because nobody is home. After a little bit, my friend says he has to go home and leaves. Me and hot girl are sitting on couch watching some crap on TV. She turns to me and says “wanna see my new swimsuit?” I thought for sure she meant she was going to go get it, bring it back, and hold it out to show it to me. That didn’t sound interesting to me, so I said “no thanks.” A little while later I left. Realized what happened about 5 years later.

Another time, I’m 22. Playing on a recreational sports team. I would usually drive this one girl on our team home afterwards. On one of the drives, I mentioned that my hands were cold (it was winter). She says “when my hands are cold, I usually put them between my legs… it’s always warm down there.” I thought about this for a moment, and concluded that my pants were too thick to meaningfully warm my hands. “I’ll just put on some gloves, I guess.” Thought nothing of it for years. A couple weeks later she tried again with “Do you have a girlfriend?”


“I can help you with that ;)”

She got through to me that time.



Went to see a band with a girl in my teen years, she invited me to stay at her place afterwards. She then told me I could sleep in her bed, then she got undressed.

I went to sleep fully clothed and oblivious.



My best friend and I are talking on the phone.

We spend a couple of hours that day talking about stuff that turns us on, and her various sex toys. One of the things for her is the smell of cooking garlic.

She then tells me she’s cooking something with garlic in it. She eats whatever it is, making yummy noises while we’re still on the phone.

She then tells me she’s going to get undressed and take a shower. She went out of her way to tell me she was leaving the front door unlocked.

I said ok, talk to you later, and hung up the phone.



First weekend studying abroad, it’s the end of one of the best nights of my life, and myself and a girl from the program are wondering around trying to get one more beer before packing it in. Walking down a quiet side street she starts talking about how tall I am (a topic i am very used to) and she confesses “I’ve never kissed somebody as tall as you.” My response, “huh, I guess neither have I.” I didn’t realize until two weeks later when we took a weekend trip together that she had any kind of feelings for me. That was an awkward trip.



We took anatomy and biology in college. We used to study together. I mentioned that I had an inguinal hernia that I was having surgery on in a few weeks.

She asked to see. I explained that it was right down beside my scrotum. She said she didn’t care, and was curious to see what it looked/felt like.

I undid my pants and pulled my underwear aside enough that she could see. She reached in and cupped my balls and had me cough so she could feel the effect. She palpated around my junk feeling the hernia.

The whole time I was concentrating very hard on other things, I assumed this was a “professional” curiosity.

Okay, you’re thinking. She could’ve just been a curious, and wanted nothing more.

Then she asked if it got better or worse during a BJ. I replied that I hadn’t been lucky enough to have my condition and a girlfriend simultaneously.

She replied that I didn’t need a girlfriend, just the right girl, all while gently cupping my scrotum.

I looked at her, buttoned up, and said something about wishing I could find that person.



I was 17, and not worldly-wise. Went back to her halls (dorm) fairly late at night. I was examining her CDs (it was the nineties, this was one of the ways you assessed if someone was okay) and turned back round to find her sat on her bed in her underwear.

I said “Oh, sorry, you need to go to bed?”, and left.

About two years later I was walking down the street when it finally clicked.



A girl (my crush at the time) and I were at my cabin alone for a night and all of our friends were coming out the next day. When we first arrived she said, “I call that bed” and I told her, “But that’s my bed” she then jokingly said, “Well then I guess we’re sleeping together.”

Sure enough, she throws her pillow on my bed and lays down. I then lay down beside her on my side away from her (I was incredibly awkward and uncomfortable about the whole thing). I can hear her moving and shuffling and then I twitch my leg a little bit and touched her leg, she had gotten very close to me, I immediately apologized and moved closer to the edge of the bed. I felt like she was just messing with me because she knew I liked her.

About 3 years later she told me she kinda wanted to mess around with me but thought I didn’t want to.

Fuck. Me.



On two separate occasions, girls have bought me drinks at the bar. And on both occasions, my dumb brain gets me to say “oh thanks!” then proceed to take the drinks and walk off…



She complained about how long it had been since she’d been eaten out.

It was 15 years ago and the memory still makes me cringe. I friendzoned my damn self.



I was 22 and working as a cashier at Target. I rang out a VERY beautiful older woman. I scan her items, pitch a RedCard, all the usual jazz. After I give her the receipt, I turn around to restock bags. When I turn back, she hands me the receipt, smiles, and walks away.

I look at the receipt and she has written her phone number. Immediately, I yell “Why did you write your phone number?” She comes back, takes the receipt, crumbles it up and says “If you have to ask, you’re not ready.” Walks away.

I explained to one of my co-workers, and he hit me.



We were at my house studying for an organic chemistry exam. Both of us were sitting close at the table with my laptop in front. I was talking her through the mechanisms and such, and she would lean on me and lay her head on my shoulder. As I kept going, she wrapped her arms on mine as I kept blabbering on. I thought I was massively friend-zoned, which is why I didn’t think much of it.

We took a break to watch a movie and she suggested we spooned on the couch. “I’m so friend-zoned that she’s comfortable spooning with me” I thought to myself. She probably grew impatient that I wasn’t picking up the signs, so out of nowhere, she does a 180 and starts making out with me. Been together for 2 years now.



Went to a party, was hitting it off with a girl I knew through some social circles. She was cute and a ton of fun, but I had to take off after a few hours.

The party was in a friends apartment in the same building I lived in at the time. She was following me out, saying she needed to leave as well. We both called the elevator, and just kept small talk/flirting going on in the elevator.

I got to my floor, and she said that she thinks she forgot her jacket at my apartment. At this point I didn’t catch what was going on, so I told her that she’s never been to my apartment.

I only realized what the hell was going on after the elevator doors closed.



Cute girl in college sent me an IM (I’m old) that she heard I had a cool room and wanted to see it.

I looked around at my Pier One decorations with pride and sent her a picture.




I was at a bar last weekend.

Closing hours came around and the bartender asked us to drink up and get going. So she downs the rest of her beer, and i ask.

“And how did that taste”

She answered, “Why dont you come find out”.

I just thought to myself, well you already drank it all, and left. I am not a smart man.



Watching a movie at her place on her couch..she put her feet in my lap.. I moved them off because her heels were slowly rubbing my dick and balls and it was uncomfortable.

I remember her sighing very loudly…



A girl once told me that out of all the guys she knows I would be the only one she would date and I responded saying “sweet.”



We were just chatting on the he phone and she said “we should go see a movie sometime”

Me: I’m not a big movie guy.

Her father owned an oil company



Was laying with a girl I liked. She told me that it was “cold in here.” Instead of taking the cue and cuddling with her, my oblivious ass says, “well, I can go check the thermostat!” She sighed and said, “no, it’s okay.” I didn’t realize my incompetence until at least a week after.

Jeffrai TC mark

The Aftermath Of Being Raped (Twice) And How I’m Getting By

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 06:30 PM PDT

tertia van rensburg
tertia van rensburg

2015, Los Angeles.

5am: I wake up, crying. I’ve had an all too realistic dream that’s left me terrified, heart racing. This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up crying, and it probably won’t be the last.

It’s incredible what the mind can do to protect itself after trauma. I had all but forgotten his face entirely–up until recently. On the other hand, it’s horrifying what can be unleashed when you’re most vulnerable, most at ease: when you're asleep. Truthfully, they shouldn’t even be considered dreams, and yet nightmares doesn’t seem harsh enough a label either. They’re forceful, vivid, and raw.

Most nights I wake up drenched in sweat. Sometimes it’s the same one over and over, like a bad Hulu commercial that plays every break. You know every second of it like a memory–and sometimes they’re just that. I’ve dreamed of bad memories more times than I can count, but I can’t remember a single time when I’ve dreamed of happy memories. Isn’t that interesting? Are the bad dreams easier to remember? Is it a form of punishment I'm subconsciously inflicting upon myself? I wonder every time I wake up.

5:03am: I wake up, for seemingly no real reason. The house is quiet, and I feel inexplicably sad. Let me go back. When I was 18, I was raped by a guy I had just started seeing.

2008, Chicago.

It was my freshman year in college, and he seemed like everything I wanted at the time. I lived in an apartment building, not dorms, and quickly made friends with the two apartments beside mine. He was laid back, funny, with a floppy mess of curly hair on his head. He was a total hippie, and we'd have intellectual conversations over big bowls of cereal at 2am. He wanted to join the Peace Corps, and he thought my compulsive need to crack each finger five times in a row was "cute."  I thought, Man, is he great

I woke up, pantsless, confused, and uneasy. I left without waking him or his roommates, and hurried next door to my home. Sitting in the shower, I cried. I didn’t even really know what happened until about two weeks later, when the nightmares started.

And then, after that, when I saw the pictures on people’s phones.

I felt angry, betrayed, confused, humiliated, ashamed, scared, depressed, but mostly, broken. To be involved, yet completely uninvolved…Physically present, but unconscious…Violated. It felt like someone had destroyed me, but I couldn’t even remember most of it.

I hadn’t been included in my own destruction; I had had no control or say in the matter. It felt as if something had been stolen from me–and I mean much more than my virginity. Don't get me wrong, that still bothered me, but I had never cherished my virginity. It was as if an entire chapter of my story had been written by someone else and, like Sharpie on a dry erase board, I could never erase it.

I wanted everyone to know what he’d done, but at the same time, I didn’t want anyone to know anything. In accusing him, I'd be inviting scrutiny on myself. I was well aware that this was the only crime in which people turn on the survivor and not the attacker.

Ask anyone who knows me well and they’ll tell you that I’m a feminist to my very core. I studied Gender Studies in college, and have proudly used “feminist” as an identifier since an early age. I knew deep down that it wasn’t my fault, that I shouldn’t feel ashamed, but I couldn’t shake those feelings. This disappointment in myself, for not being able to shake those feelings, only compounded with them. I, of all people, knew I shouldn't feel this way, but I couldn't help it.

I knew all too well what people would say and ask. I knew, because even some of the friends I confided in had asked me the very questions I had been dreading. Why didn’t you go to the police? Why were you drinking so much that night? You're a feminist, you of all people should want to raise hell! Are you sure that's what happened? He seems like such a sweet guy.

The fact of the matter is: unless you’ve been through it, you don’t understand.

The overwhelming rollercoaster of emotions was unbearable. I didn’t want to have to fight to prove what happened to me actually happened. That sounded exhausting, and I was already so exhausted. Exhausted from reliving it, exhausted from talking to friends, exhausted with my own crumbling sanity. The way I saw it, I would either be known as the girl who cried rape, or the girl who was raped. Neither sounded appealing.

I got angrier. The piece of me that he took had left a hole, and that hole was rotting inside of me like an infected wound.

We never spoke of that night, he and I. When I saw him, I would lash out. Our mutual friends just thought I was being a bitch to him for no reason, but ultimately, I decided I’d rather be known as a bitch than that girl. I didn't want to have to explain to them why. I didn't want to open that door of questioning again, and again, and again. In the end, we had a big blow out, in which he called me an "anorexic bitch" in front of all of our friends. It was a nice cherry on top to the end of my first semester.

I lived next door to my rapist for a whole year.

I dreaded the walk from the elevator to my apartment, abandoned friendships, and decided altogether that my schooling in Chicago had been tainted. The home that was my life in Chicago had asbestos, and if felt like there was no way of saving it.

When I moved away, I thought I had closed the door to that chapter of my life. However, I was just navigating the beginning of a new (ever-present) chapter: PTSD.

I moved somewhere new; somewhere where I didn't know a single person. Although I had removed myself from Chicago, I soon realized that Chicago hadn't removed itself from me. I tried dating, but every time a guy touched me, I felt him. I got back together with my high school boyfriend. He was one of the few people I had confided in about the previous year. I cared deeply for him, but he was also familiar; safe. That was what I needed.

I still struggle with feelings of guilt for that relationship. I was a sailboat with no sail, and he was navigating uncharted waters all alone. I couldn't understand how someone would want to be with me, when I didn't even want to be with me. But he did, and I took it for granted. One day I depended on him, the next I would shut down altogether. By my senior year in college, he decided he couldn't be in my life anymore. He helped me so much, but I had to try and finish what he started. It was smart for him to move on.

I still think of him often, and hope some day we'll run into each other and be able to say hello. He kept me going, and I will forever be grateful to him.

When I graduated, I was finally beginning to feel in control of my life again. I was starting fresh, and moving to Los Angeles. Once again, I felt like I had closed a door to that painful chapter, but for good this time. And I had, until 2 years later, when I went to dinner with someone I met on OkCupid.

5:07am: I wake up again, for no reason. Empty is the only way to describe it. I’m not sure why I keep waking up in the middle of the night, but it’s becoming routine lately.

2015, Coachella.

It was my third year going, and I had been looking forward to it since I got my ticket the previous June. 2014 had been a rough year, for myself, and just about everyone else I knew, and I needed the break. Most of my friends would be there and, despite some drama, it’s always a good time camping and seeing live music.

After a few hiccups, a bunch of new friends, and tons of amazing shows, it was almost over. It was Sunday, and we were heading in for the last time. It was around 5pm, and we were dancing at Sahara Tent when I saw it. Just up ahead I could see him. I knew it was him before even seeing his face because of the tattoo on his back. The tattoo I had seen so many times in my nightmares was as real as could be, and was right in front of me.  It’s unique in size, content, placement, and about 10 other ways. It was him, and it felt like every ounce of joy had been sucked out of me.

Nauseated, it seemed as though someone had turned all of the surrounding sound off, like some cheesy moment in a movie. I could still see all of my friends, dancing and having a great time, but I couldn’t move. I could feel my eyes filling with tears. I kept blinking, thinking it was all my imagination; thinking the picture would change, like a Viewfinder, each click a new image. But it just stayed the same. And that tattoo just stared me in the face like it knew; like it was daring me.

I had spent the last 5 months trying to erase him from my memory. After all, this wasn't freshman year; I wasn’t going to see him every day, like when I was 18. I could forget; put it behind me. And that's what I had intended on doing, but there it was, taunting me. I was supposed to be on my break, but now I know we have the same taste in music.

The rest of the day I was in a kind of fog. I did drugs, lots of them, in hopes that I could force myself to forget; to enjoy those last shows of the weekend. For better or worse, nothing I took worked.

Fortunately for most of my friends, they didn’t even know he existed.

Fortunately for me, two of my friends did.

At the time, neither knew why I was upset. He had already tainted my weekend, and I didn't want to taint theirs. So, unknowingly, they both made it their goal to help make the most of our last night. She dragged me to an incredible performance by Florence Welch, and he sat with me in the Turn Down Tent.

They are the only two reasons I didn’t go back to camp right then and cry the rest of the night.

5 months earlier, Los Angeles.

5:05am: I wake up, confused. I’m in bed, but it’s not mine.

I’m naked, and laying in my own urine. He’s angrily getting a towel. What was his name?

I was so confused. I try to retrace the footsteps of my night. I had just gone to dinner with a guy I met on OkCupid, but I couldn’t think of his name. The dinner had been great…but why couldn’t I think of his name? I was so embarrassed.

I had had a couple of glasses of wine at dinner, but I hadn’t been drunk. Why did I wake up in urine? I got up and hugged him from behind, his tattoo touching my forehead. I said, “Sorry.”

I was so confused.

I felt weird. He didn’t even acknowledge me. Not a touch, not a word, not a glance. I got dressed in silence, still trying to piece together the night. He was so good at ignoring me that I wondered if I was dreaming. I left his apartment like a ghost passing through a wall, unnoticed. It was cold. I didn’t know where I was, so I called a Lyft.

I was so confused, but this other feeling was too familiar.

I got home and did everything you’re not supposed to do. I deleted his number. I deleted my OkCupid. I sat in the shower and cried, just like I had 6 years earlier.

It’s been almost 2 years since that night, and it's been almost a year and a half since I ran into him at Coachella, but the wound still feels fresh. I realized pretty quickly that I had been drugged and raped by my OkCupid date that night. I still can’t remember his name, but I remember bits of what happened, like movie clips that play in my mind.

I remember the outfit he was wearing. I remember the outfit I was wearing. I couldn't wear it anymore after that night, so I threw it out. I remember what we ate at dinner. I remember how he used my Chapstick, and how I made myself use that Chapstick every day after, until it was empty, like a punishment, or a reminder that he was real and that it really happened.

I remember how angry I felt when I started to forget what his face looked like, and how I created another OkCupid just so I could find him again. I remember he messaged me, "Hello beautiful, how's your saturday going?" and clearly didn't remember me, which made me feel even worse. I still have a picture on my phone, so I can always remember what the monster's face looks like. I remember feeling embarrassed. I remember thinking, Who gets raped twice? I remember feeling the glue that held my pieces together coming undone.

For 4 months, I woke up at 5am every night. Some nights were bad, but mostly it just felt routine. I’m not sure the exact day it happened, but I finally slept through the night. That is, until Coachella. My sleep has gotten better since then, but I still wake up. Sometimes I can even tell when I'm going to have a rough night. But I've noticed I sleep best when I spend the night with a close friend. I guess it makes me feel safe; safe to dream. I take pride in being able to take care of myself, but I guess even I can't control my mind when I'm asleep, so I'll take all the help I can get in that department.

When I was 18, I was raped by a friend. When I was 24, I was drugged and raped by a stranger.

I'm still hesitant to tell friends about my experiences. It feels like handing someone a grenade with the pin already pulled out. There's never a "good" time to bring it up, yet every day that passes seems like a missed opportunity. My rapes have both shaped me into the person I am today. In some ways, it feels like the people who don't know, don't really know me. But at the same time, I don't really feel like everyone deserves to know.

I still shudder when guys unknowingly touch me in certain places or ways that take me back to those nights. Sometimes they notice, and I always think to myself really intensely, please don't ask, please don't ask…Maybe if I think it three times, Beetlejuice will appear and scare the question out of his head. Wishful thinking, but the last place I want to discuss my rapes is while I'm having sex. Sex and I have a very love/hate relationship, as it is.

I have never felt a greater loss of self than my life after rape.

I still struggle with feelings of shame, with feelings of brokenness, with feelings of guilt. I still find myself blaming myself–for what happened to me, and for not doing more to prevent it from happening to others.

But the truth is, I’m tired of feeling all of these things. I'm tired of feeling every emotion all at once, because that is what it feels like. It shouldn’t be the responsibility of assault survivors to prevent sexual assault. We are not the perpetrators, yet somehow we get prescribed all of the blame and responsibility. When soldiers are wounded in war, we don't chastise them for getting injured, or for not ending the war single-handedly. We call them brave for surviving.

I've had my character, my beliefs, my strength, and even the event of my rapes questioned. I've been told they don't believe me (which is just a nice way of calling me a liar). I've been told that I deserved it. I've been told I've handled my rapes in the wrong way; that I should've done more.

When people ask rape survivors why they didn't go to the police, why they didn't speak up sooner, it only puts more responsibility on our shoulders. More pain, sadness, guilt, shame. All of the feelings I already have about my rapes are rehashed when my actions after my rapes are questioned. I was raped, twice, and the way I have chosen to deal with my rapes does not make me a bad feminist, woman, daughter, friend or person.

We, as a society, need to stop teaching girls and women how not to get raped. Instead, we need to teach people what consent and assault are, so that people know the definitions of both.

We need to reform our criminal justice system so that survivors feel confident in coming forward. We need to stop passing bandaid-for-a-bullet-wound bills like the one Brock Turner inspired in California, and just convict rapists. We need to stop telling survivors of rape how they should handle their rape, and what they should do.  I'm angry for what happened to me, but I'm angrier for being blamed for it. I admire the survivors that I read about who are standing up to their attackers. I know, one day, I won’t mind telling anyone who is curious. And if you've been through something similar, know this: it is okay if you don't feel brave sometimes, as long as you know that you are.

7:30am: I wake up. My cat is curled up in my arms. I have to get up soon and get ready for work, but I don’t want to wake her. I feel the glue starting to harden in places. I take life one day at a time. Things come up, and some days are harder than others, but I remind myself every morning that I’m still here. I’ve had bad things happen to me, but I’m still here. And I still have so many days ahead. TC mark

25 Toxic Things You Need To Let Go Of By 25

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 06:00 PM PDT

Brooke Cagle
Brooke Cagle


People who make you question yourself, your self-worth, and who you are as a human being.


The fear of dying alone, never finding love, or not being enough for someone.


Any sense that you “deserve” to have something that you aren’t willing to work for.


The people who didn’t love you back, and especially the ones who never will.


An unwillingness to work to get better at something since you’re not in college and a grade doesn’t depend on it.


The idea that asking for help makes you weak.


Considering yourself “not like other girls” and therefore, writing off girls as friends.


Considering yourself “not like most guys” and therefore, writing off guys as friends.


Writing off ANYONE as a potential friend before you’ve actually taken the time to get to know them.


Any anxiety of things that are new to you just because they aren’t like what you’ve always known.


Prejudices that have been established because of the unknown.


Habits that are bad enough that they make you think about breaking them in the first place.


Being uncomfortable with sex and talking about it so much that it affects your ability to have a good time when you’re having it.


The idea that there’s only one person out there for you.


Places, people, and situations that you’ve ultimately outgrown.


The glorification of being a complete disaster, when you could be getting your life to a place you’re proud of.


Any labels that are on you that you don’t 100% identify with.


The thought that life is going to be fair, and even more, that you deserve it to be.


Putting so much pressure on yourself that you’re constantly stressed and tense.


Never letting yourself take a break, or stop, or breathe.


Putting pressure on yourself to look a certain way, instead of loving the body that you have.


The idea that one person “should make the first move” when you could go after what you want if you just sucked it up.


Your fear of failing, because you’re going to and you’re going to be okay even after you do.


Your need to be “perfect.” Because you aren’t and you’re never going to be.


The idea that there’s one “right way” to be a 20-something. TC mark

What Your Generic Girlfriend’s Job Says About Her

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 05:00 PM PDT

Nick Karvounis
Nick Karvounis

Public Relations

Claire has only worked as an assistant for a couple weeks now, but has already deemed all PR employees as ~*~her people~*~. Which is weird, frankly, because despite working in a field that is supposed to be able to effectively communicate to the public, Claire can never actually describe to you what she does everyday. She instead talks a lot about the knitted coffee cozies she seems to spend an exorbitant amount of money buying off of Etsy.

Event Planning

Lindsay has to make everything into some kind of event. Probably useful for her job, but when it comes to fights between you two, it is an absolute nightmare. She is the only person you personally know who is thrilled with the new iPhone not having a headphone jack, because she’s been saying for years that Bluetooth technology is “so chic.” She reacts to mishandled floral centerpieces the same way a cardiac surgeon would react to something going wrong during an operation. “Glossy bangs” are her number one priority at all times—she would probably leave you for dead if she had to choose between your life and spending five extra minutes blow-drying her hair. 

Yoga Teacher

Emily is incredibly out of your league. The only reason why she gave you the time of day in the first place is because she met you when you happened to be tying your shoe next to a golden retriever that was tied up outside of a juice store, and you totally pretended the dog was yours and you just finished a gallon of something called Green Monster (Emily's favorite). But Emily meditates, so she has trouble telling when people are lying or being evil.

Internet Writer

Gabby really loves feelings. A lot. It somewhat makes things weird for you because you try to be supportive about her being a writer (???), but everything she writes about (you’re pretty sure) is some weird, blanketed statement about your relationship. “804 Things You Wish Your Man Did For You In Bed, But He’s Too Scared To Try”? She came up with 804?! Like, damn, Gabby. How many people read this?

Social Media Intern

Erin will stop you mid-sentence so that she can scribble down a clever Instagram caption that she was just thinking about while you were talking. She still has her parents’ credit card in her wallet “for emergencies,” but whenever she gets a certain level of drunk, she’ll whip it out and start buying random people rounds of shots. It’s hard to plan things with her because she is constantly stressed about “postings” and “timeliness” and “boosting posts to the Explore page” and other things you don’t understand. Anytime you ask a question about what she does that toes the line of possibly dismissing it as a real job, she won’t respond to your texts for 48 hours and posts dreamy nighttime cityscape Snapchats with what she calls “internet poetry” as the captions. TC mark

This Is Why People Fall In Love With You, Based On Your Birth Order

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 04:00 PM PDT


First Born

Oldest children just have a knack for bettering the lives of the people who they care about. Once a first born is in your life, it becomes really difficult to imagine it without them. And more than that, you don’t WANT to imagine your life without them. They come into your life and show you how much better you could be living, how much simpler your life could be, how much they could take care of you.

What people love most about about oldest children is the sense of security that comes with being around one. You’re never going to feel more safe, more cared for, more cared about, or more secure than when you’re with an oldest child. Oldest children are natural caregivers, and live for making sure their partners feel safe and loved. People fall for oldest children because they get a glimpse of the potential their life has, and once you see that you never want to let it go.

Somewhere in the Middle

Middle children have had the unique experience of growing up with two opposite personalities on either side of them. Because of this, they really have to dig and work to carve out a place for themselves. They have to establish themselves as their own person in order to not get lost in the shadow or wake of their siblings.

Middle children are often free spirits who don’t worry about what people think of them. They have cultivated a personality and way of being in the world that is 100% unique to them. This makes them captivating, original, and so, so interesting. People love middle children because they’re ultimately so inspired whenever they’re around them. They fall in love with a middle child because they’re unlike anyone they’ve ever come into contact with before, and they can’t wait to learn more about who they are.


Youngest children might as well have “adventure” as a middle name. They’re drawn to new experiences, new opportunities, new people. Just a whole lot of new, new, new. A youngest child never settles for anything, which makes them magnets for people who are intrigued with that adventure, and the excitement that ultimately comes along with it.

People fall head over heels for youngest children because their thirst for life and all of that new is so intoxicating. It’s hard not to want to chase someone who’s constantly running after the things that they’re passionate about. A portion of why people love youngest children is because the they love the thrill of that chase, but even better than the chase? It’s when you actually catch them.


Twins are deep, highly emotional, and crave connectivity in their relationships. They tend to be slightly difficult to get to know, but it’s more out of self-preservation than actually being closed off. Once a twin gets to know someone, and really trust them? They let them into their heart and form a connection with them unlike any other.

When someone is falling for a twin, it’s because they’ve never experienced a level of emotionally connectivity like that before. Twins have an innate ability to make people feel heard, to empathize with them, and to make them feel understood. The connection that people experience with twins when falling in love is unlike any other, and is incredibly heartwarming and intimidatingly deep. Falling for a twin (and in turn, getting them to fall for you) may be a slower process, but it’s almost always a big love.

Only Child

Creative, imaginative, and (at times) a bit misunderstood, only children impulsively and instinctually keep most people at arm’s length. They tend to keep to themselves, keep their emotions locked down, and don’t open up to just anyone. They’re very content being on their own so letting someone into their world isn’t just an everyday occurrence — it’s a big deal.

People who fall in love with only children aren’t afraid of a challenge, in fact they’re excited by challenges. They see an only child for everything they could be behind their walls and their idiosyncrasies, and love the idea of getting to peel back their layers and get to know them. People fall in love with only children because they recognize how special and dynamic of a person is in there. And the recognize how sometimes, people are more than just what meets the eye. TC mark

The Stressful Truth About Wedding Planning No One Likes To Admit

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 03:30 PM PDT


Remember the movie The Wedding Planner? With the never-aging Jennifer Lopez and the jaw-dropping Matthew McConaughy?

Remember how planning a wedding seemed like a breeze? They went to look at gorgeous venues, pick out flowers, and take dance lessons – and mind you, there was no freak out about any of it?? Well that movie is complete baloney.

Planning a wedding is stressful.

I honestly do not understand the couples who get married in under a year; it took me more than a month to just pick out the perfect bridesmaid dresses let alone get anything else done! Hell – my fiancĂ© and I were already starting to plan our wedding before our engagement, and I still feel like time is limited! How do people do it? Please, for the love of God, direct me towards the women who have declared wedding planning to be “fun” because I would like to smother them with a pillow in their sleep.

I bow down to wedding planners everywhere. They must be like God to the brides who hire them. I’m a poor college student who was hesitant about even hiring a day-of wedding coordinator, but I pulled the trigger and she’s already been a lifesaver thus far. So I completely understand why people willingly dish out thousands and thousands of dollars on someone whose job is handling all this crap. Looking back I probably would’ve sold one of my kidneys on the black market in order to relieve all of the stress and anxiety and panic attacks I’ve endured. Like, really? Shouldn’t planning your wedding be fun?

Don’t get me wrong – there have been moments where I’ve taken a step back to breathe it all in and enjoy the making of what will be the happiest day of our life. But the months leading up to it have been and will be the most stressful months I’ve ever lived through. And I’m an English major. With papers and finals and readings due every week. I’ve lived through hell, but this?! It’s ridiculous. Like HOLY shit there has already been an insane amount of blood, sweat, and tears gone into planning this day and we still have three months to go.

So props to you if you’ve also put your special day together on your own. And congratulations/beware if you have recently became engaged.

Just make sure you put your big girl pants on, have a tub of ice cream near you at all times, have your psychiatrist on speed dial, and brace yourself for lots of tears. TC mark

8 Ways To Know A Guy Is Flirting With You (And Not Just Being Friendly)

Posted: 25 Oct 2016 03:00 PM PDT

Audrey Reid
Audrey Reid

Is he just being friendly, or does he want more?

Figuring out the intentions of a guy you’re talking to can sometimes feel like deciphering Morse-code. You figured he was just being friendly, but the more you spend time together, the more you suspect there’s more to it than that. He touches your arm. He talks about other women. He makes a joke about the two of you as a couple.

Is he just being friendly… or is he flirting?

As a coach, I've noted an interesting pattern. Women underestimate a man's interest, while men overestimate a woman's. So if you have to ask the question, "Is he flirting with me?" the answer is usually "Yes."

But there are exceptions, and the last thing you want is to misread the situation. Today, I'm answering the question: "Is he just being friendly, or is he flirting with you?" by giving you 8 telltale signs his interest is more than plutonic.

1. He makes playful jokes or teases you.

Does he tease you, sometimes taking it a little too far? Almost to the point of offense, before he realizes his mistake and backpedals?

Does he – almost weirdly – seem to want to make fun of you at every opportunity, even for things that really don't warrant it?

"Oh my god… you like bread?!?!? You're a bread fiend! Look at cha with ya bread!"

If he's making fun of you for dumb things (like bread), he's not losing his mind. He's just trying to flirt with you at literally every opportunity, even when it's quite clear there is no such opportunity to be had.

2. He's physical with you.

Men get physical with women they want to be close to. From a subtle touch on the leg or lower back to literally picking you up – physicality – in virtually any form, is a sure sign a guy is flirting with you.

3. He talks to you more than anyone else.

Do you notice, in any group situation, he spends the majority of his time talking to… you?

Men subconsciously put their time and effort into women they're interested in. His feelings for you, therefore, are demonstrated directly by how much he tries to talk to you (especially if other guys are around!)

If you’re noticing he seems to 'get through' conversations with others (especially women), so he can get back to talking to you – there's a good reason, and it's not because he wants to be your friend.

4. His body language goes to you.

Just as powerful as his verbal attention is observing his body language.

Does he spend most of his time with his chest and torso directed towards you, even when others are involved in the interaction?

Does he always turn back to you after his attention is taken away?

Does he always seem to somehow wind up in your vicinity?

If so, it's not a coincidence. It’s so he can flirt with you.

5. You keep catching him smiling or looking at you.

His body language from a distance speaks volumes, too. Do you keep catching him looking at you from across the room? Smiling? Watching who you're talking to? Especially in social settings, a guy who's into you will be constantly vigilant of where you are and what you're doing.

6. He suggests future hangouts or alludes to you as a couple.

Does he make suggestions for the two of you in the future? An upcoming market? A festival? A new bar he insists you join him at?

Perhaps, more subtly, is he making jokes that you're not-quite-sure-if-they're-actually-jokes about the two of you being together? He playfully alludes to the two of you being married or what you'd name your kids?

These relatively innocuous comments are signs that – playfully – he's feeling out your response to the idea of you and him.

7. He prods for lots of information about you.

When a man who shows consistent interest in you across a broad range of areas (especially your relationship status!) he does so for a reason. It's not because he happens to share your passion for plantquariums or astrology. It's because he likes you and wants to build rapport.

8. He makes sexual innuendos.

Sexual innuendos, above all other signals, should make it immediately obvious he’s flirting with you. Such innuendos could mean he’s only after sex, but could also mean he fancies you and is having a flirt (innuendos alone don't separate the two). They do, however, confirm he's interested.

Men are easier to read than you think. If you see the signs listed here, he's flirting with you and is looking for the response from you that constitutes his green light to make a move. Remember: Women underestimate interest and men overestimate it. If you're asking the question, "Is he flirting with me?", the answer is probably "Yes". TC mark