Thought Catalog

She Was Sexually Tortured Until She Confessed Where Her Murdering Boyfriend Was Hiding

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 08:00 PM PST


The young woman heaved and tested her bindings on the bed. She was completely naked. Her breasts were flat against the bed covers and her bare bottom was raised to prominence. The girl's arms stretched between her kneeling legs and were fixed in leather cuffs attached to a spreader bar binding her ankles next to them. As a result the crease between her buttocks was forced to open exposing the vulnerable dark puckered hole for penetration. It also provided a tantalising glimpse of her ripe vulva. She wore a blindfold over her eyes and quietly she whimpered.

The bed was the only object in the small room. A solitary tall man in an immaculate dark grey designer suit stood in the shadows of the dimly lit space stood over her. In his hand he held a curled leather bullwhip ready to extract the information he needed from the imprisoned woman in the cell. It was time to begin her interrogation.

Dylan Blake rested his large manicured male palm on the girl's bottom and stroked it almost lovingly. He peered in to her small anal hole trying to judge its size for the object he was to insert. The girl had proved difficult to interrogate stubbornly refusing to tell him of her boyfriend's whereabouts and where he planned to kill the Government Minister. An environmental activist who was prepared to kill rather than achieve his objectives in a peaceful manner and the luck of the devil in avoiding the authorities, Dylan believed the only way to find Jonas was through his girlfriend and he'd picked her up that afternoon.

She'd proved a handful and resisted arrest. He'd tackled her to the floor of the kitchen after she'd thrown several pots and pans at him and dragged her hands behind her back. That was when she turned and bit his wrist. Grimacing with blood staining his white cuff he decided to show her he meant business. Pulling her up off the floor with one hand holding her wrists together behind her back and the other tugging her long dark ponytail, he had raised her from the kitchen floor and slammed her front ways against the wall. Making sure her pretty face didn't smack the wall he pulled harder on the ponytail until her head stretched uncomfortably back.

"Where is he?" Dylan demanded pulling her hair hard.

"I am not telling you anything?" she screamed at him.

He couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, you will by the time I am finished with you."

He glanced down at the blood seeping from his wound staining his cuff with a frown. The shirt was ruined.

The girl was wearing a short dress and as he thought of his ruined shirt and the throbbing pain coming from his wrist he ached to spank her backside. The quick flash of her white thong as he slammed her against the wall again exposing her partially bare bottom was too inviting not to smack. To calm her he let go of her hair and lifted the cotton strappy white summer dress to her waist and bunched it there. She squealed and fought but his lean athletic frame was far too strong for her to fight. With lightening speed he moved his fingers down inside the top of her thong, just above the covered crease between her buttocks and in one motion pulled it down over her bottom.

Two juicy plump pale globes bounced free from the restraining hold the thong had placed around it. Admiring their pertness, the spy pulled the thong down over her thighs snapping the delicate straps at the side until the flimsy material came away in his hands. He tossed it to the floor and cupped the side of her rump.

"Open your legs," he commanded squeezing it painfully tight.

When she refused he bent his head to examine her pouting vagina. Slipping his deft fingers between her thighs he found the small bud protruding her labia and squeezed it. She gasped and a tell tale trickle of moisture sluiced his fingers making him grin. So the suspect liked to be firmly handled. He raised his hand and softly curved it before spanking her pussy hard to encourage her to move, careful to catch the tip of the clit.

The girl yelped and he repeated the action and his order.

"Open your legs, now."

The second whip of his palm across her vulva, a little harder this time induced her to spread her legs.

"Move away from the wall and bend over."

Now her legs were open it was difficult for her to move and it would keep her restrained. With his help she managed to move away from the wall but she refused to bend over and he was forced to slap her pussy one more time. She obeyed quickly and when he removed his hand he could see it was damp with arousal.

Holding her hands behind her back, Dylan decided she was ready for the first part of her interrogation, a spanking.

"I don't like being bitten, Gemma. Nor do I like getting blood on my shirt. You deserve to be taken to task for it," he told her with humour.

"You are going to spank me like a child," she retorted.

"Yes. I am."

"What? Ow."

He delivered the first slap to the right buttock enjoying the way it jumped and quivered with the force he used. He struck the left just a touch harder making her howl before picking up the pace.

"Where is Jonas?" Dylan demanded above the sound of her flesh being smacked echoing around the small room.

He stood over her curved form strongly spanking her bare bottom, each blow reddening her buttocks until they burned and stung with an artful swing of his hand. Each strike lifted her blushed bottom in to the air with increasing force when she refused to answer him.

"We will find him. If you tell me now I can save his life. Do you want him to die, Gemma? I thought you loved him."

Another slap rained down upon her, this time on the tender backs of her thighs. Dylan had noticed she had been biting her lip to steel herself but now she opened her mouth and let out a loud sob. The tears she had been defiantly holding back spilled from her eyes to run in a torrent down her cheeks.

"I won't tell you," she shouted.

Dylan whipped his hand neatly across the back of one thigh making her howl like a baby.

"But you know where he is. That's a start."

"He is going to kill that man and stop the animal experimentation. People will listen then."

"Tell me where he is."

Dylan glanced down at her red thighs and bottom. She wasn't giving anything up yet and it appeared she needed further persuasion of a more firm kind. If he continued to spank her he wouldn't be able to apply any other method to interrogate her with. He wasn't a cruel man, only when he needed to be.

The spy gave his prisoner one more slap across her bottom and ended her spanking. For his own curiosity, he moved his hand across her sex and to his satisfaction found her soaking wet. Despite her cries of pain the woman was deeply aroused by her punishment. He could use this to his advantage.

Laying his palm on her flesh he rubbed one mound to soothe the burning.

"I am going to take you in and we are going to discuss this further," he told her. "You will tell me. It is just a matter of time."

He ignored her cursing and lowered her arms keeping hold of one. Quickly he dipped his tall frame and lifted her neatly over his shoulder preventing her from her fist making contact with his face.

The spy had carried his prisoner to the car half naked. The act designed to weaken her will. Neighbors looked out of their windows and up from their gardening shocked to see her fiery red bottom on public display. He was satisfied when she began to whimper with her embarrassment.

Depositing her in the back of the car he leaned over her and took hold of the dress at the front to brutally tear and rip it from her body. To his surprise the girl barely protested and as he stripped her naked she let out a pleasured gasp.

The man sitting in the driver's seat grinned and turned around to admire Blake's handiwork sweeping his eyes over the prisoners voluptuous naked breasts as Dylan undid the catch of the girl's bra and pulled it down her arms allowing them to bob free from their confinement.

"Did she talk?" the man asked him.

"No but she will."

"I love watching you work," he grinned again.

"Spread your legs, Gemma," Dylan ordered giving her large breasts a couple of expert slaps to encourage her obedience. She took a breath and arched her body forward to meet the third quick strike to her left breast apparently eager for more chastisement. Dylan smiled to himself. He had her just were he wanted. Aroused and pliant. He would manipulate this to his advantage in the interrogation. As if to prolong the punishment she kept her legs closed prompting another slap. Dylan watched her breast flush with the strike and wobble deliciously from side to side.

"That girl needs a pussy whipping," the driver encouraged. "She will learn to be obedient at the centre. Lets go."

Dylan decided to oblige his colleague. Quickly he cupped Gemma's sex and squeezed it hard and then pushed the lips together tightly. He did it once more making her moan as the pink fleshy wet mounds rubbed against each other. Involuntarily she opened her legs taken with the pleasure, unable to help herself. The moment she spread her legs Dylan raised his hand and whipped her sex with his palm four times hard. The girl never closed her legs again.

His hand was wet with her creamy juice when he moved it away to place her hands behind her back and the seatbelt between her blushed breasts. He'd sat in the back of the car as it drove through the London traffic watching the way she rubbed her wet pussy across the black leather dampening it to ease the ache dwelling in her sex. Her labial lips were heavy and swollen and her nipples were taut with their erectness. His fingers twitched to stroke her damp vulva, play a little but he remained still and cold until the car dipped down the ramp to the underground building in Interdefense's London office. Loosening her seatbelt he'd pulled her back over his shoulder and carried her in to the building and straight to one of the interrogation cells where he'd arranged her in the spreader bar.

It was his first intention to take the bullwhip to her bottom after she'd still refused to answer his questions but now he believed a stronger method was needed. Convinced of the correct size of plug he would need to use to fit in her exposed anus, he put down the whip and covered his hands in a pair of latex gloves before coating his middle finger in lubricant. Time to get her stretched.

Dylan plied open her buttocks a little more so that the girl felt uncomfortable and then holding the cheeks painfully spread, he circled his wet finger around her hole. The girl cried. The hole appeared tight and virginal.

"Please, what are you doing?" she panted with anxiety.

"A quick examination of your anus. Has a man ever taken you here?"

"No. I've never . . ."

"Then this will be a new experience for you. If you don't want me to proceed tell me where Jonas is?"

His English voice was formal and perfect in its delivery of the threat and more than adequately sinister.


Dylan didn't ask her anymore. He circled the dark puckered entrance thickly sluicing it with lubricant. Then he began to ease his middle finger in to the tight hole. The girl gasped but said nothing. He felt her frame tighten and rubbed his latex hand over one globe as though to soothe and eased his finger in deeper forcing the cavern walls of her anus to stretch and accommodate his invasion. Again she whimpered but said nothing allowing him to go further. He wasn't quite at the hilt but with a sudden sharp wet thrust he embedded his finger making her body jolt on the bar. The cry she gave was of surprise but was also tinged with a renewed arousal.

Dylan simply held his finger there for a moment allowing her to get used to his dominance guiding her in to surrender but the girl was stubborn and remained silent. With a tinge of cruelty he began to thrust his finger in and out of her body forcing the channel to stretch and widen to accommodate the enema tubing and the plug he would insert to force her to hold the warm water he pumped in to her stomach.

"Ok, Gemma, you leave me no choice."

Dylan removed his finger quickly brushing her sex to check if she had dampened further and found he was correct. She was a natural submissive and was obviously used to a firm hand from Jonas. He needed to push her boundaries. Anal penetration was the best way to start and he was doubtful she had experienced the dual pleasure pain of an enema. It could be her undoing.

He turned to the large mirror in the room knowing his colleagues were behind it viewing the whole interrogation.

"Prepare an enema," he instructed removing his gloves with a snapping motion.

Gemma cried.

"No, please."

Dylan leaned over her and softly cupped his hand over her sex from behind. Once more he squeezed it and caressed the small bud, kneading it between his fingers, tugging it back and forth until her cries turned in to moans.

"Have you ever had an enema before, Gemma?" he asked gently.


“Well, I insert a tube in to your bottom. The warm water flows along the tube in to your anus and through to your stomach. Your abdomen will swell with water until you feel as though you are carrying a child full term. Then the pain will start. Some women are deeply aroused by the pain when they are made to hold the water inside their body for a while. Others beg for release. I like to plug the anus to force the person to retain the fluid. I wonder how long I can force you to endure the discomfort. Perhaps I will until you tell me of Jonas's whereabouts," he told her in a dark whisper.

He only heard small cries of fear in between the moans as he continued to caress her pussy teasing her by circling the entrance of her channel but never penetrating it with his finger.

"Please don't."

"Tell me where he is."

"I can't. I can't betray him."

"Yes you can. He is a murderer. You aren't. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail for helping him?"


"Then tell me where he is," Dylan persisted keeping a tight rein on his impatience.

"I can't," she suddenly sobbed.

"Then you will take the enema," he said glancing up at a man bringing the prepared enema in to the room and a stand to hold the bag. "When your stomach is cramping you will want to tell me."

Dylan put on a fresh pair of latex gloves and coated his fingers in the lubricant once more along with the end of the tube. The girl sobbed as he prepared it. Taking the tube from the assistant he stretched open the small anal hole and began feeding the tube in to her bottom. She moaned and tried to rear bucking her bottom backwards in an attempt to expel the tube making Dylan increase the speed with which he used to push it inside her. Holding her down with one hand to keep her in place, the spy turned the valve on the tube to allow the water to flow from the soft plastic holder resembling a small hot water bottle hooked on a stand like a drip.

The water coursed fast along the tube up inside her anus in to the girl's stomach to flood her colon and begin the cleansing process. She gasped feeling the warm water begin to fill her insides. Dylan loved giving enemas to a submissive woman. It was the ultimate way to dominate her. He slipped his hands between her legs and up to her stomach intoxicated by the way her it was swelling and enlarging in to his palm. She was completely in his power. He lightly caressed the surface.

"Good girl, take it all," he cooed.

Eventually he determined she had taken sufficient water and turned off the valve. His assistant had gloved his hands and handed him a steel butt plug lathed in lubricant. It was large and would pull open the small entrance causing Gemma to experience a new sense of discomfort and to feel unbearably full. He wondered if it would bring more pleasure for her.

Dylan pressed the cool tip of the plug at Gemma's anal entrance and circled it allowing her to anticipate the insertion. She bleated a little but still did not answer his question about Jonas. Dylan carefully penetrated her entrance with the plug and pushed it inside. She moaned and tried to rear again but he persisted watching the small hole stretch and widen to accept it. When the plug was deeply embedded he stood back and took off his gloves. Gemma was beginning to groan with pain. The cramps from the fluid had come quickly. It was time to get the information he needed.

The assistant left the room and Dylan scraped a solitary chair across the floor to the bottom end of the bed to face Gemma's bottom. He sat down and waited.

"Those cramps are only going to increase, Gemma," he said in a matter of a fact crisp English tone watching her move restlessly on her bindings in a futile attempt to free herself. "You will endure them until you give me the information I need."

"I can't betray him."

"Why not? He doesn't care for you, Gemma. He isn't here trying to rescue you. He is probably in bed with one of the many women he fucks every night while you wait at home for him. We know he likes to fuck when he's killed someone. It was the first thing he did when he murdered that girl who crossed him. He isn't a fighter for your cause. He has form and he likes the thrill of killing. He is going to kill Paul Strand for the leader of your group for money. He is just a hired assassin. He has been fooling you that he cares about your cause."

"You are lying."

"You know I'm not. You've been fooling yourself because you love him."

"Please I have to go to the bathroom and release this water."

"No, you can't. Hold it."

"I can't."

"Then tell me where Jonas is?"

"Please," she screamed.

Dylan stood and held her stomach again pressing it down to increase her discomfort. At the same time his free hand pressed down on the plug. The girl sobbed uncontrollably.

"Tell me."

The girl moved from side to side. Dylan pressed harder as she cried out.

"He is at a flat in Tremayne street preparing to shoot the Minister when he makes his speech in the Guildhall tonight about the medical advancement of the new cancer drug."

"What number?"

"44. Now please."

"Not yet. You've been a good girl," he said moving his hand from her stomach to her pussy to stroke her clit allowing pleasure to war with the cramp for supremacy in her mind. "You deserve a reward."

Dylan glanced at the mirror and nodded knowing agents would have already been sent to arrest Jonas the moment the girl gave the information. He inserted his finger inside her heavily damp pussy and pulsed it in and out. Her cries turned to helpless confused moans. Now she was plugged in every orifice apart from her mouth. Feeling her begin to buck down on to his finger he curled it inside her velvet soft channel until it hit the rough back wall of her vagina and forced her orgasm to erupt. Rocking on his fingers whimpering and sobbing trapped in the pleasure pain paradox the prisoner came hard to Dylan's satisfaction. As soon as her exhausted tortured pants ended he undid her wrists and ankles. Carefully he allowed her to sit up and called for an assistant to take her to the bathroom.

He smiled when his boss, Tina Andrews came in to the room.

"Well done," the older woman said.

Dylan nodded with respect and walked to the sink on the other side of the room away from the mirror to wash his hands.

"I have another job for you in Venice." TC mark

17 Real Guys On What They Would Like To Change About Women

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 07:00 PM PST

Thought Catalog Tumblr
Thought Catalog Tumblr


Probably the whole birthing process and make it as easy as taking a shite (which actually happens during some births). My sisters was absolutely horrible and seeing her look absolutely exhausted made me feel so bad for her. I can only hope my future kids if I have any will go easy on my girl.

— BigIrishBalls


So they could turn off (and back on) their period and their fertility as they want by wishing for it alone, without any detriment to their libido.

— middaysun


Out their boobs up to eye level.


— SirLenzalot


I’d change the way they’re socialized. Women have a ton of different competing agents/forces in their lives that try to control their behavior, their dress, their security, their sexuality, their social interactions, and more, for a variety of different justifications.

They’re frequently expected to meet all of these expectations at once, even if they’re contradictory or against their nature, or be shamed or ostracized if they don’t, to a degree that I don’t think most men are aware of or understand. If I could change it so that they wouldn’t have to deal with all that bullshit, especially teenage girls who have to deal with all that while going through puberty, I would do it in a heartbeat.

— adventures-of-iron


Hmmm…. I’d make them taller. And I’d make them have the capacity for greater physical strength- equal to men.

That way, the mismatch, on average, between a man’s physical intimidation capacity and a woman’s is erased. And women would have an easier time of fighting back against things like sexual assault.

Basically, a lot could be solved that way. Men not being taken seriously if a woman physically attacks them. Women being seen as helpless too often. Men having greater risk of being physically intimidating. Women having a harder time fighting back against assaults, etc.

— poopbutt2012


Prehensile vaginas. Like, imagine vaginas had as much muscle control as lips and tongues. Combine the best of PIV and blowjobs!

— 0xdeadf001


More self agency honestly.

— Accardi_Don


Maybe, bigger boobs or if they already have big boobs make it so their back doesn’t hurt as much.

— Conchobair


There aren’t many slim girls with large boobs :/ . I would make it so that boobs are the first priority for fat distribution, then ass, then everything else.

— rememberalderaan


I’d make women’s clothing lines with functional pockets. We’re tired of carrying your shit.

— boolean_sledgehammer


I’d make them taller, constantly bending down to kiss is annoying :D

— gilbatron


This question shouldn’t be as interesting as it is, but here’s what happened.

  • I go to say “Make their sex drive match our own.” Then realized this would lead to immediate overpopulation, or a massive spread of STD’s that would end humanity. (Bonus)
  • I go to add “And also make them more equal in terms of beauty so they don’t’ have such a glaring advantage in mating” but then realize that means women would be ugly…. (Fail)


— slendersalamander5


I like them to be willing to put as much into a relationship as they want to get out of it. Surely there are exceptions, but most of the women I know feel like they get to “allow” a man to have a relationship with her if he offers her enough in return.

— AlwaysABride


More aggressively sexual. And not intimidated by a big, tall guy like me.

— Whatsthedealwithair-


More readily able to understand male perspectives and communicate their perspectives in a way that is accessible and clear to men.

— Coidzor


I would completely remove their ability to lie. Little white lies, lies by omission, big fat lies, nothing but the truth out of their mouths.
And then I would spend the rest of my life wishing I could do the same to all the men.

— Dr-Dinosaur


I’d get rid of that bitchy, catty, snarky side.

Not everyone has it of course… but when a group of them get together and start going off on one it’s like being stuck in a chicken coup with all the squawking going on.

— quartilius

This Is Why I ‘Casually’ Slept With You

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 06:01 PM PST

Thought Catalog Tumblr
Thought Catalog Tumblr

I slept with you, because I thought you were lying when you said you didn’t want a relationship. That you were trying to protect your heart, just like I was, by spilling falsities. I thought that — even if you were telling the truth about keeping it casual — that you’d eventually change your mind. That the intimacy we created during sex would rub off, redefining your perception of me. That you would fall as hard as I had.

I slept with you, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Because, if I couldn’t enter a real relationship with you, then sleeping with you was my best alternative. I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to touch you. To have you all to myself. Even if that meant I had to do it casually. Even if that meant I only owned you for the night.

I slept with you, because I thought I could handle the sensation. That, even if nothing came of it, I’d get some experience. Have some fun. Inject a little excitement into my dull life. I didn’t think I’d lose complete control over my emotions. That I’d tumble deeper and deeper into the idea of dating you. That I’d make it even harder for myself to deal with not having you. With being just another number to you.

I slept with you, even though you openly admitted you weren’t looking for something serious, because your actions said otherwise. Your actions said you were ready. That you wanted me. That I was going to be your girlfriend, even if it took a little time for me to earn the title.

I slept with you, because you led me on with mixed signals. You told me you didn’t want me, but then you texted me and cuddled with me and whispered secrets into my studded ear. How could I believe I meant nothing to you after all that? How could I keep telling myself that I was just a sex object, something for you to play around with, when your actions said otherwise? Your actions convinced me you liked me as much as I liked you.

I slept with you, because I was absolutely crazy about you and I hoped that the sex would make you crazy about me, too. Because fucking actually means something to me and I can’t understand how you could intertwine your naked body with mine without developing feelings for me. Because I thought sex would be the answer to my problems, that it would transform you from a friend to a boyfriend.

I ‘casually’ slept with you, because I thought I had a real chance with you. TC mark

60 Six Word Sentences That Will Break Your Heart

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 06:00 PM PST


1. "I just want to get away."

2. "I should have stayed with you."

3. "Leaving you was the worst decision."

4. "I will never regret walking away."

5. "My pulse now echoes your name."

6. "I wasted my time missing you."

7. "I'm sorry, I can't love you."

8. "I feel so completely alone now."

9. "I can't find myself without you."

10. "All I wanted was love back."

11. "Why could not you accept me?"

12. "Things are not getting any better."

13. "I'm sorry I cared too much."

14. "I'll keep pretending everything is fine."

15. "Your voice became my favorite song."

16. "I feel so alone without you."

17. "I'm still in love with you."

18. "We went from everything to nothing."

19. "Nothing matters now, but you did."

20. "I should never have believed you."

21. "I still think of you sometimes."

22. "I don't want to feel lonely."

23. "You deserve someone better than me."

24. "I'm completely burnt out and empty."

25. "Timing was never on my side."

26. "Nothing hurt as bad as you."

27. "You are all I'll never have."

28. "I used to feel so happy."

29. "Please tell me I meant something."

30. "Why didn't you ever call back?"

31. "You never came back – you promised."

32. "I hope you regret leaving me."

33. "I hope you feel my absence."

34. "Pain's better than nothing at all."

35. "I can't fill the emptiness inside."

36. "You ruined my hopes and dreams."

37. "I should've never given you power."

38. "Maybe I am wasting my time."

39. "I destroyed myself so you couldn't."

40. "I was stupid to believe you."

41. "I should have walked away sooner."

42. "Your love heals my broken parts."

43. "Please promise you will remember me."

44. "I want to feel less alone."

45. "Ignoring you only makes it worse."

46. "What we had wasn't true love."

47. "We crave what we can't have."

48. "And then it was too late."

49. "I know I deserve better now."

50. "You're worth more than you think."

51. "Blades hurt less than your memory."

52. "I'm pathetically in love with you."

53. "I'm always an option to you."

54. "I want to be wanted deeply."

55. "I can't make you love me."

56. "I don't know who I am."

57. "Her silence was the loudest noise."

58. "I'm terrified of falling in love."

59. "They said time heals – they lied."

60. "Don't lie, I know you'll leave." TC mark

How To Know If It’s The Right Time To Break Up With Someone

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 05:30 PM PST

Toa Heftiba
Toa Heftiba

How do you know when it's the right time to break up with someone? The confusion around this question has caused me lots of frustration. As a single guy, it stopped me from really loving someone deeply, because I was afraid of getting stuck.

In relationships, my uncertainty led to anxiety about how to deal with times when I felt disconnected. Was it a sign we should break up? How would I know when enough is enough?

After years of inner struggle, I started to gain clarity. The pieces started to fit and pretty soon, I felt I could make sense of this seemingly impossible question. Today, I feel at peace. I see my relationship struggles for what they are and I don't spend time questioning whether I should be in or out of my relationship. It's such a relief. These are my biggest insights on the subject of breaking up.

1. You May Not Be Following Your Truth

One of the hardest pills to swallow was seeing that when I felt like ending the relationship it was almost always because I wasn't following my truth. For me, following my truth means living my life in a way that feels aligned with who I am. It means making my interests a priority and not selling out for the sake of pleasing others.

When I don't live this way, I feel trapped. I begin to panic and my relationship takes the blame. It's as if I'm in an ocean, I can't swim and I'm gasping for air. Nothing else matters but breathing, or in this case, feeling free.

For example, I have a need to be alone and write. Sometimes my weeks get so busy that I feel like I've neglected my writing, and it starts to take a toll on my mental health. I feel frustrated and blame the relationship for not "letting me" write.

If I was single, I'd have more time to myself.
 I would take time off but Paula won't like that.
Being married is too much work.

If I believe those stories, then my only option is to consider ending the relationship, since it's clearly holding me back. What I discovered after going through this over and over again is my desire to end the relationship was a desperate gasp for air, not a sign that the relationship should end.

Now, I recognize my desire to end the relationship as a sign I'm neglecting myself. When these negative thoughts arise I return to the truth of who I am and what I want. Maybe I go to my calendar and plan a half day by myself, maybe I schedule a night out with friends, maybe I take a week off for a writing retreat.

Are there things I want and ways I want to live that my partner wouldn't be comfortable with? Yes, and I've found that the majority of the time, I can meet my needs in a way that works for both of us, but only if I'm willing to share vulnerably and not blame her for the way I feel.

2. Breaking Up Happens Gradually

When I really understood this idea of following my truth and not blaming the relationship, it helped me in times of upset, but philosophically it led me back to the original question.

How do I know when it's time to break up with someone?

Clearly, not every relationship should last, so if I'm following my truth and not blaming the relationship, will there ever come a time when the relationship should end? How will I know?

What I noticed when I pondered this was it didn't matter. If my partner and I were both committed to living our truth and our values weren't aligned, we would naturally grow apart. The break up would ultimately be something we acknowledge is already there.

That made sense, because healthy break ups seemed to already operate this way. Two people would naturally drift apart as they lived what was true for them. As I thought more about this, I realized that if we are really taking care of ourselves, the concept of breaking up is something that we notice has already happened, not something we force upon the future.

This was a huge realization for me, because I stopped having to worry about making a decision to break up or not. All I needed to do was live a life that felt good to me, encourage my partner to do the same, and if we weren't meant to be together, we would notice.

This sounds simple of course, but it's not easy. We get attached to being with people so it's hard to be ok with a relationship ending. There is an important value here that makes this all possible.

3. Happiness > Longevity

For most of modern history, we've measured the success of a relationship in longevity. We hear about a 50-year marriage and think "that's wonderful", then hear about a divorce after three years and think "oh, that's too bad". It doesn't take us long to see that the default setting for a long marriage isn't happiness. That's not to say that there aren't wonderful marriages that last a lifetime, there are, but the connection between how long you stay married and how happy you are is simply an old story that we cling to.

The reason I bring this up is it was really important for me to not be afraid of divorce. In fact, being afraid to break up with my wife was one of the main factors that kept me from living my truth.

Instead of trying to keep our marriage together at all costs, we were better served by understanding that our happiness was more important than how many years we accumulated though a marriage punch clock. It turns out focusing on your own happiness is also a great way to be happy in your relationship, which lead me to the last point.

4. My Happiness Is Up To Me

So often we break up with someone because we aren't happy, then we become single and the truth is we're not really any happier, and now we have no one to blame. Then we get into another relationship and repeat the same pattern over and over and over again.

There is one phrase I love, and I say it to myself whenever I'm thinking that changing my situation will make me happier.

Wherever you go, there you are.

It doesn't matter where I go, whom I'm with or what my circumstances are, at the end of the day, my happiness is up to me, and blaming my relationship for that will only make it worse.

So often we break up with someone as a deluded attempt to fix what's really going on inside of us. It doesn't have to be that way. Separating in love may not be something we hear about in country songs, but it's something that happens every day among people who would rather not carry resentment and bitterness into their next relationship.

5. The Freedom of Not Knowing My Future

Do I know if Paula and I will be together in ten years? I don't. In fact, I have no idea what my relationship will look like. We could grow apart or one of us might die. We never know what the future holds.

Resting in the truth of this allows me to do something wonderful. It allows me to experience my relationship here and now. If I have worries about the future, I can simply return to the reality of my present situation. Am I following my truth? Am I selling myself out for the sake of what I think Paula wants? Am I doing my best to be happy, independent of what's going on for her? Can I really know that breaking up with her will give me the freedom I desire?

Being present and able to enjoy my relationship in this moment is the greatest gift these questions have given me, and I hope they do the same for you. TC mark

Here’s Why You’re Struggling In Relationships, Based On Your Birth Order

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 04:00 PM PST


First Born

You are used to being in charge, and rarely get told what to do by other people. You’re used to doing what you want, when you want, exactly how you want to do it. You’re bold and unapologetic in going after things, no matter how much that might effect people or rock the boat. While in your professional and social life this can be a great advantage, in relationships it can be a huge problem.

For a relationship to be successful, there HAS to be compromise. Even though you’re used to being the boss, you can’t expect that in a partnership you’re the only one with a say. If you’re constantly trying to control your relationship and, subsequently, the other person, eventually you’ll not only lose that control, you’ll lose them.

Somewhere In The Middle

In growing up in the middle, you’ve learned to keep the peace. While your older sibling(s) and younger sibling(s) don’t balk at confrontation, you would rather stay far, far away from it. It’s just not your forte, or something that you feel comfortable dealing with. You’d rather just wait for something to blow over, and then continue living your life with no drama, and no unpleasantry.

While to a certain extent, this makes you incredibly lovable and easy to get along with, it can also be your fatal flaw. You’re prone to ghosting on situations and people that make you feel uncomfortable, and rather than expressing how you actually feel, you’ll resort to bottling it up in favor of keeping the peace. This leads to even BIGGER fights, where everything explodes all at once, and a tendency towards passive-aggression on your part. You need to learn how to disagree, and be okay with things not being smooth sailing all the time.


You’re used to getting what you want, and being able to talk your way out of anything. If you want to do something, go somewhere, have something, get something…you just do it. You can err of the side of impulsivity and selfishness, and while that’s totally fine when you’re single, it’s incredibly unfair when you’re in a relationship.

Relationships, especially truly successful relationships, are a partnership. One person’s needs and wants don’t outweigh the other’s. And playing games, manipulating situations, or just behaving childishly to get your way will always end up actually hurting you, your reputation, and ultimately your relationships (romantic and otherwise) in the long run.


Twins are born with the incredibly unique experience of being bonded to another person literally since before they were on this Earth. Not only does this create a connection unlike any other that is basically impossible to replicate, but it also creates a competition between two people from day one. Whether you’re the more dominant twin, or the more quiet twin, it doesn’t matter. Your relationship with you twin is one, and every other relationship is its own.

You have to remember that no one is trying to compete with you, and also, no one can read your mind. You cannot compare your external relationships with the relationship you have with your twin. It’s unfair, unrealistic, and will (ultimately) be unsuccessful.

Only Child

Only children tend to grow up more quickly than other children, be a bit more “spoiled” than others, form closer more equal bonds with their parent, and because of this can feel superior to other people. Sometimes this superior feeling is more “high and mighty” and sometimes, it’s just an unshakeable special snowflake quality that makes them behave in an unapologetic way that’s more obnoxious than admirable. As an only child, you can have a very “me me me” way of looking at the world, and frankly, you need to get over it.

If you want to be in a relationship that works, you need to remember to look outside of yourself. Much like youngest children, you can be selfish, and that won’t build a relationship that lasts. Put yourself to the side and consider your partner, remember they’re just as special (an important) as you, and that’s when you’ll be able to be in a healthy, functioning relationship. TC mark

There’s No ‘Right Way’ To Be A Biracial Family

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 03:30 PM PST

William Stitt
William Stitt

I can experience the amazing culture of my roots in Japan, and I can experience the revitalizing future that America has to offer me, as well.

On the way back home from college, I had talked to my dad about growing up as a minority. I had just finished my first year of college and had taken away so many lessons and realizations that hadn't occurred to me since I’d left. He asked me how I was feeling after so many racial events had happened on Western's campus. And I, of course, had to start at the route of where I was feeling.

Growing up with a third-generation Japanese-American mother and a completely Caucasian father had opened a lot of doors to different cultures that I am so thankful for. I was introduced to Japan's fashion from 50 years ago by my grandmother who had draped me in kimonos, and by my grandfather who had taught me how to make sushi and ramen. I had gathered around my other grandfather, teaching me the songs to The Wizard of Oz and showing me the spot on the beach of California where he and my grandmother have spent most of their time. I was immersed in these two cultures that had been given to me by my parents, and I love both of them. Where my brother and I have been the only ones of color and being able to fit right in when we were little, and where we were laughing in Los Angeles with the ones that had been visiting us from Japan (with a partial language barrier but not caring at all): these are the memories that I love and will always cherish.

Whenever there is a really good thing that comes out of a situation, there is usually something bad that goes hand in hand with it. For me, there were things that kept me up at night and things that have worried me that I might never experience. Some of those include the fact that my mom is American — her parents have lived here, as well — and she is third-generation. It is great that our family has been here for so many decades despite being in concentration camps or oppressed by their own country, America, but if you are in a place like where I am in life, you will come to realize that you will feel like you are missing out on some things.

For instance, I was never brought up to speak another language. That just was not something that was needed in my house because my mom and her parents have been here for so long. You come to learn that even though you consider yourself Japanese, you are not really from Japan, but you are from America, only of Japanese descent. That is a hard realization for me that I have learned this year — that I am going into my second year of college but I don't know how to speak Japanese, nor have I ever been there, nor can I even cook any Japanese food anymore. But do all biracial families have to be like that? Do we have to be suppressed to be that stereotype of a model minority?

The answer in my opinion is no. From where I am standing in America, it is completely up to me. I can live my life with two doors open that I can walk through anytime of day. I can experience the amazing culture of my roots in Japan, and I can experience the revitalizing future that America has to offer me, as well. Yes, from where I am standing, growing up in a biracial family definitely has its benefits. TC mark

35 Lies Highly Manipulative Narcissists, Sociopaths And Psychopaths Will Say To Make You To Stay

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 03:01 PM PST

Franca Gimenez
Franca Gimenez

Toxic people don’t want to be alone. They aren’t complete unless they have someone they can manipulate into giving them attention. They’ll say anything to convince you that you are crazy and need to stay in this unhealthy relationship. If someone you’re close to uses these lines (especially in front of other people in order to humiliate you), consult someone you trust about coming up with an exit strategy.

1. “The only reason any else would be with you is for sex.”

2. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

3. “You’re being crazy.”

4. “You just don’t want to see me happy.”

5. “If you leave I’ll tell people you….”

6. “If you leave, I’ll hurt myself and it will be your fault.”

7. “No one else will love you.”

8. “You’re going crazy over nothing.”

9. “Other people don’t like you, you’re lucky you have me.”

10. “You’re being childish.”

11. “No one else thinks it’s a big deal.”

12. “No one else would put up with your shit.”

13. “I’m sorry but…”

14. “It’s your fault for making me so angry.”

15. “You’d be more attractive to me if you…”

16. “Don’t you love me?”

17. “I don’t know why you do X when my last girlfriend always did Y for me.”

18. “You’re making a big deal about nothing.”

19. “If you cared about me, you’d…”

20. “Don’t you want to make me happy?”

21. “You should know better than to make me angry.”

22. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

23. “A normal girlfriend would do it for me.”

24. “You must be dumb.”

25. “You don’t realize how lucky you are that I’m with you.”

26. “No one would put up with you like I do.”

27. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

28. “You’re too weak to be alone.”

29. “Other men wouldn’t be attracted to you because…”

30. “Quit whining.”

31. “I can’t believe I’m dating someone so worthless.”

32. “I should have chosen another girl, she would treat me better.”

33. “You’re always ugly and miserable, why would I be happy?”

34. “You don’t know how to do anything right.”

35. “You’re so pathetic.” TC mark

40 Phrases That Would Make Women Melt If Men Would Actually Say Them

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 02:00 PM PST

Twenty20, kirillvasilevcom
Twenty20, kirillvasilevcom

1. Tell me all about your day. Don’t leave out a single detail.

2. We don’t have to have sex tonight. I just want to hold you.

3. I planned out a romantic weekend for us. Pack your bags!

4. I can’t wait to see you in a wedding dress.

5. You’re the only woman I want to sleep with for the rest of my life.

6. I never want to make you feel anything less than perfect.

7. You inspire me to become a better person.

8. I know you’re on your period, so I made you a bath–with scented candles and everything.

9. I appreciate everything you do for me, I want you to know that.

10. You’re the first thought in my head each morning and my first priority for the rest of the day.

11. I want to kiss you, but I don’t want to ruin your gorgeous makeup.

12. I know you could live without me, but I hope you never do.

13. What do you want to eat tonight? I’ll buy you whatever you want.

14. Get undressed, so I can give you a full body massage.

15. I love your stomach.

16. I’ll do whatever it takes to give you the life you deserve.

17. We’re so adorable, it’s disgusting.

18. Love isn’t a strong enough word to describe my feelings for you.

19. Your lips are my favorite flavor.

20. I could listen to you talk for hours.

21. Your boobs and ass are sexy, but I really love that smile.

22. You make me excited for the future.

23. You’re my dream.

24. I know you had a rough day at work, so I’m going to do the cooking tonight.

25. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.

26. Tonight, sex is going to be all about you.

27. Every morning, you look more beautiful than the last.

28. Your hair smells delicious.

29. Your happiness leads directly to my happiness.

30. You have the best taste in music.

31. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.

32. I’m proud of you.

33. I want to spend forever with you.

34. I want to take you on a date at the place where we first met.

35. I’m so fucking in love with you.

36. Thank you for everything you do for me.

37. Looking at you is like looking at the stars.

38. Do you even realize how talented you are?

39. You’re the reason why I’m excited to get up every morning.

40. I hope I’ve made it clear how much I love you, because you deserve to know. TC mark

Why I Once Bought A House…

Posted: 14 Nov 2016 01:30 PM PST

Unsplash / Gus Ruballo
Unsplash / Gus Ruballo

OK, I admit it: I bought a house because of a psychic.

It started in 2006. I was feeling strange and lonely about not only my circumstances but my entire way of life.

I was in the financial industry. Which is a way to watch people make fools of themselves while making or losing vast amounts of money.

My father had just passed away and I felt like it was my fault. In fact, I wanted him to die at the end and it was a stress in my family. His brain wasn't there anymore.

I couldn't get over the regret of losing money that would have not only fed my children, saved my dad, bought me freedom, but would also have fed all the poor in the world.

Just kidding. I didn't really care then about that last part.

So an astrologer recommended a psychic in Connecticut who said, "for this, I think you need to see someone special."

I took a plane to New Mexico from New York. I visited Santa Fe for a few days. I drove to Albuquerque to visit a friend of mine there.

And then I stayed for four days in a motel where the special psychic would pick me up at 8am each morning, drive me to her house in the suburbs and we would spend all day talking about me.

Maybe you and I can relate on this. Maybe we all do crazy things when stress turns to chronic stress turns to, "I'm at the end of my rope." Maybe we all take planes thousands of miles to see a psychic.

I don't know. But I find I'm embarrassed to admit all of this. I don't even think I told my business partner I was going to see this woman and disappear for half a week.

She had a bag of white chocolate next to my seat each day. I ate the whole bag every day. And we would talk.

"Everyone's life is changed by her," the original psychic said to me. "She's the real deal," said the astrologer about the Connecticut psychic.

As for the astrologer. I met her because a date 20 years earlier wanted to know if we were compatible.

So that's the way things happen. That's how dots often connect. And then suddenly I'm in a suburb in the middle of the desert 2,000 miles away with an elderly woman and a bag of white chocolate.

"You won't feel settled in life until you find roots," she told me. "You need to buy a house."

"It's against everything I stand for," I told her. "The last time I bought a house, I lost it and I went broke."

"You have to break the pattern," she said. "The universe is waiting for you to break the pattern. You have to trust the universe."

I can't remember what else we talked about. But it was four days. At the end of each day she'd drive me back to my little motel. Finally I took a plane home.

A year later my then-wife and I walked into a house that we heard was for sale. It was empty except for one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen sitting there. She was the seller.

There was another house on the property. A Putlizer Prize winning journalist was living there. We became great friends although I think now she doesn't like me because of my stance on college. But friends come and go.

I bought the house.

Two months after moving in, my wife and I separated. I moved to NYC. The day after I moved to New York was Thanksgiving.

I ate a turkey sandwich by myself in a diner. Because I was in a dark mood and maybe I knew I would later write, "I ate a turkey sandwich on Thanksgiving."

I put an ad on Craigslist claiming, of all things, that I was a psychic. I was 40 years old and sometimes I'm always a pimply and awkward 13 year old.

I responded to a lot of emails that day. And at least two of the people who responded to my ad remain my friends to this day.

I went broke again. We put the house for sale. We lost it.

And on and on. I started to date a girl who would ask me every day what my net worth was. Then she'd break up with me and leave. Then she'd come back later that day. We went out for four months.

I lost my one source of income. I stopped getting calls from anyone. I had no opportunities.

"Why don't you introduce me to your friends ever," I asked the girl who always broke up with me.

"Because you're crazy," she said.

I would wake up in the morning and look out the window of the Chelsea Hotel. Men and women in suits rushing to their jobs. Going left and right according to their path in the maze.

I didn't know where to go. I had nothing to do. Nobody liked me and they were all right. I didn't like me.

I started writing every day.

2,000 blog posts later everything is different for me. Maybe everything is better. But does it matter? Will people 100 years from now think it matters?

She was right. The psychic was right. I bought a house and my entire life changed almost immediately.

Before we moved into the house I had a bit of a breakdown. Which means bad things happened while drunk in the middle of the night.

My then-wife was scared for me and called 911. It was about 2 or 3 in the morning and I hope my kids were asleep.

I pretended to be asleep and then I pretended I was fine. But the police took me away.

They dropped me off at one of those one floor motels in the middle of the highway. "Don't let him leave until morning," they told the manager.

In the morning the room was spinning. If I just lay still, I felt like I was on a roller coaster going up and down at high speed. Where am I?

I walked outside. The morning sky was bloodshot with sun. I couldn't find the manager and the main office door was locked. There were no people around at all. I felt all alone and lost.

An hour later my wife and two kids picked me up while I was walking on the highway. "Why were you there?" my youngest wanted to know.

The only reason I write this is because I bought a bar of white chocolate today. Suddenly I remembered.

The psychic. The desert. The white chocolate.

And the entire airplane ride back from New Mexico, looking out the window, excited for the day when everything would change. TC mark