I've always thought of dating, marriage, romance as having a beginning, a middle, an end. Like everything else in life.
I hate overhearing that conversation: - Ah, we broke up ... - Really? They were together so long ... - Five years ... what a shame ... it's finished ... - Yeah ... it just didn't work out ...
But it did work! It worked for five years, then it ended. And the beautiful thing about life is you can have many loves. Yes, many loves!
I don't believe in people who complement each other. I believe in people who add up. Sometimes you can't even give a hundred percent of yourself to yourself—how can you demand it from another? And that complete thing doesn't exist.
Sometimes she's faithful, but cold in bed. Sometimes he's tender, but unfaithful. Sometimes he's considerate, but struggling. Sometimes she's beautiful, but unmoved. All of it together—we'll never find.
Decide what matters most to you and invest in that. Desire is a wild creature. When you have desire with someone, you can be the most ordinary thing with someone wonderful.
And sometimes you have that acrobatic passion, but it leaves you cold ...
I think the kiss matters ... and if the kiss lands ... the ending begins ... if it doesn't ... another chapter, please ... yes, let's walk.
If they don't want you anymore, don't force it. They have the right not to want you.
Don't fight, don't care, don't rage. If they're uncertain, that's their burden, and you must choose—to wait or walk.
Some people need your absence to remember your presence. Let them feel what you are. A human being is never absolute.
He wavers, doubt and fear gnaw at him, but if someone truly wants you, he returns. No theatre. How strange it is to have someone stand with you when the world presses in!
The beautiful thing is finding someone who chooses you — just you. And you, them. Don't settle for pity's bed. Don't cling to someone to outrun loneliness. We arrive alone. We leave alone. We can dwell alone... For that, dear God, I am grateful.
Our thoughts belong to us alone — they are not borrowed. And when you wake, the first light falls on you, the first thought is yours... your gaze, your mind.
There are those who leap from one story to the next. What is this terror of solitude, of your own company?
Loving wounds. You will taste anger, jealousy, hatred, despair... These are its colors. You live beside another soul, another world, another universe entirely.
And things rarely bend to your will... The cruelest are those who fear the risk of involvement.
If someone arrives bearing these words, flee — you are no one's healer. If you won't risk yourself, date a plant. It asks nothing, promises nothing.
In love, in life, there are no guarantees. Not everyone who asks you out wants forever. Not every kiss carries romance. And good sex need not be scattered ashes... or ignite love... or leave you ashamed... Love... Sex... Marriage... Three fierce things that may dwell together or apart.
Anyway... who promised being grown was simple?