The movies make the brooding guy the hero – the guy with problems the guy who carries a gun, the gun with unresolved anger, the guy with a chip on his shoulder, the guy who’s a vampire – and they tell you that you can have the mythical happy ending with that same brooding guy. But in reality, the brooding guy is cranky. He doesn’t reply to emails. He doesn’t call. He’s only half there when you’re talking to him, and he doesn’t chase you when you run. You feel insecure all the time. You get needy and sad and you hate yourself got being needy. If you don’t know why he’s brooding, you’re shut out.And if you do know why he’s brooding, you’re still shut out. (Because he’s busy brooding.)

He greeted me in his usual attire - pajama pants. "Hey stranger!" he said, hugging me for a few long seconds. "I've already set up the board. Can I get you some rose"I nodded, overwhelmingly relieved to be with another human being - even if he was really a wolf in grandma's clothing. Or was he just a wolf in wolf's clothing? After all, he wore pajamas... Hmmm. I contemplated all this as he poured me a glass of wine."Mind if I smoke?" he asked as he lit up a joint and motioned me over to the sleek brown couch. Italian, of course.Through the three windows that faced south, north, and west, I saw the Statue of Liberty, and Ellis Island, where I had paid to have my parents' names inscribed in the immigrant wall of honor. Some American Dream this was!

Sooo, I'm tired of people thinking I'm a freak. I know you can't relate to that but -""Get over it already, will ya?" Candace stood. "You're not Smellody anymore. You're pretty. You can get hot guys now. Tanned ones with good vision. Not geeky hose jousters." She shut the window. "Don't you ever want to use your lips as something other than veneer protectors?"Melody felt a familiar pinch behind her eyes. Her throat dried. Her eyes burned. And then they came. Like salty little paratroopers, tears descended en masse. She hated Candace thought she had never made out with a boy. But how could she convince a seventeen-year-old with more dates than a fruitcake that Randy the Starbucks cashier (aka Scarbucks, because of his acne scars) was a great kisser? She couldn't.

Happiness is part of being whole. It means having an understanding of your identity and purpose, an established feeling of acceptance and value, and a sense of destiny, joy, and peace -- all of which produce overall well-being. It is impossible to be consistently happy without these characteristics. All people need to know who they are, why they are here, and to whom they belong. Having an understanding of who we are in Christ is foundational to the belief system that allows us to possess these qualities. The Bible says in Romans 14:17 that the kingdom of God is righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. You find in this passage all these characteristics that grow out of being in right relationship with God. His presence is always accompanied by peace and joy; in other words, a sense of total well-being.

Tommy asks where Carolyn is."She's at Cindy's.""They live together now," Salvador added."Didn’t they just start dating?" Tommy asked.Tiger answered, "Yeah... A couple of WEEKS ago."Unhappy about the news, Tommy objects to Carolyn moving in with Cindy."That's how it happens in our WORLD," Salvador said. "One night you MEET, the next night you MOVE IN, and before you KNOW IT- you're digging a GRAVE IN THE BACK YARD FOR YOUR LOVER DURING A FREAK THUNDERSTORM.""THAT IS HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE," Tommy said.After Salvador apologizes, Tommy asks how Raven's doing in prison."Fucking GREAT." Tiger answered. "How do you THINK?""No longer on suicide watch?""NO... FUCK...""Speaking of fucking. Is he still with BULL DOG?""I REALLY don’t wanna TALK about RAVEN right now- AND WHO HE'S FUCKING. Talk about INAPPROPRIATE.

Henry drew a shaky breath. “Do me a favor, Meg.”“Anything,” I whispered.“Don’t fall for Quinn O’Neill. If you’re going to do this thing with him…go to this dance, don’t fall for him.”“Never,” I said. “I promise.”“Because I’m all filled up on sad right now.” He sniffed again and I could tell he was more in control. “And you can’t ask me to sit by and watch you get all caught up in this guy. I can’t handle that—thinking he swept you off your feet because he bathed in body spray and dressed up.” His voice sounded rough. “I know you think I’m being funny right now, but I’m completely serious. Don’t make me watch that happen.”“You know my heart,” I said. “It’s yours.

Dating is all about getting to know somebody, without wasting a lot of time or money. What is the price of love? You’ve got the cost of dinner, a movie, and cab fare for you and your date, as well as the entire film crew documenting your evening. So you add all that up, and subtract various coupons and bulk discount rates you might qualify for. But what about time? You can make more money, but you can’t make more time if you waste it. That’s why you have to be efficient with your dating. Don’t date one on one. Take 10 women out at once, assembly line style, and forget the small talk. Focus on hard-hitting topics, and give them all questionnaires to fill out. I think the women will appreciate your honest and novel approach. Of course it’s possible that nine out of ten women might be offended. But who cares? All you need is one.


I've sequenced the questions for maximum speed of elimination,’ I explained. ‘I believe I can eliminate most women in less than forty seconds. Then you can choose the topic of discussion for the remaining time.’ ‘But then it won’t matter,’ said Frances. ‘I’ll have been eliminated.’ ‘Only as a potential partner. We may still be able to have an interesting discussion.’ ‘But I’ll have been eliminated.’ I nodded. ‘Do you smoke?’ ‘Occasionally,’ she said. I put the questionnaire away. ‘Excellent.’ I was pleased that my question sequencing was working so well. We could have wasted time talking about ice-cream flavours and make-up only to find that she smoked. Needless to say, smoking was not negotiable. ‘No more questions. What would you like to discuss?

We were sitting outside at our favorite Italian restaurant, Callini’s, one Friday lunch when Sam revealed to me what his ideal female looked like. A few women walked by and Sam used words like “big legs” and “too big up top” to describe women that barely weighed over 100 pounds. The following bomb then pried its way out of his mouth, “I’m still in love with Winny Cooper.”I replied with shock in my voice, “Winny Cooper from The Wonder Years?”Sam glowed, “Yeah, Winny is my ideal woman.”“You do realize that she was a little girl in that show,” I said trying to awaken Sam’s better judgment.He started laughing, “Winnie was a babe. I had a huge crush on her.”I needed clarification: “You do realize that you were in your 20s when that show was on. So, that would mean that you had a crush on a 12 year-old.

That kiss you gave me was the hottest kiss i've ever had. I pulled away because i was afraid i wouldn't be able to stop myself from ripping off your clothes. And that didn't seem like the right way to end a first date. I didn't want you to think that was all i was interested in."She stared at him. There was silence again, but this time she didn't worry about how long it went on."Why didn't you tell me?" She said finally."I tried to, but every time i saw you afterward you disappeared. I got the feeling you were avoiding me.""i didn't want things to be awkward.""Yeah, there was nothing awkward about you hiding behind a plant when i came into the dining hall at lunch on wednesday.""I wasn't hiding. I was, um, breathing. You know, oxygen. From the plant. Very oxygenated, that air is.""Of course. I should have thought of that.""It's a healthy thing. Not many people know about it.

Maybe this was a male-female translation problem. I read an article once that said that when women have a conversation, they're communicating on five levels. They follow the conversation that they're actually having, the conversation that is specifically being avoided, the tone being applied to the overt conversation, the buried conversation that is being covered only in subtext, and finally the other person's body language.That is, on many levels, astounding to me. I mean, that's like having a freaking superpower. When I, and most other people with a Y chromosome, have a conversation, we're having a conversation. Singular. We're paying attention to what is being said, considering that, and replying to it. All these other conversations that have apparently been going on for the last several thousand years? I didn't even know that they ~existed~ until I read that stupid article, and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one.

The three of you were pretty cute last night, with all that touchy-feely crap.""Yeah, that lasted for about two minutes before you dragged Evan back over to the bar.""Dude, we were hunting Turkey. [drinking bourbon] it was important." Chris grins. "That boy can drink, I'll give him that." "That's big of you. From the way you were hanging off each other by the end of the night, I was thinking I might get Jeff all to myself." Chris shoots him a look. "Is that what you want? If you had your way? Just Jeff?" Dan Isn't really ready to answer that question, not even from Chris. "Wow, you'd switch teams just for me? You'd steal Evan away just so I could take his boyfriend? That's sweet man, really."Dan knows that Chris recognizes the deflection, but he lets Dan get away with it. "That's the kind if friend I am, Dan. Maybe you should take a lesson - the next time I need a wingman in a straight bar, it wouldn't kill you to step up." "Yeah, okay, I'll keep that on mind.

You hardly know me and yet you invited me out on a date,’ said Miss Dearheart. ‘Why?’Because you called me a phoney, Moist thought. You saw through me straight away. Because you didn’t nail my head to the door with your crossbow. Because you have no small talk. Because I’d like to get to know you better, even though it would be like smooching an ashtray. Because I wonder if you could put into the rest of your life the passion you put into smoking a cigarette. In defiance of Miss Maccalariat I’d like to commit hanky-panky with you, Miss Adora Belle Dearheart… well, certainly hanky, and possibly panky when we get to know one another better. I’d like to know as much about your soul as you know about mine…He said: ‘Because I hardly know you.’‘If it comes to that, I hardly know you, either,’ said Miss Dearheart.‘I’m rather banking on that,’ said Moist. This got a smile.‘Smooth answer. Slick. Where are we really eating tonight?

It was Valentine's Day and I had spent the day in bed with my life partner, Ketel One. The two of us watched a romance movie marathon on TBS Superstation that made me wonder how people who write romantic comedies can sleep at night. At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall all-the-time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer. Then, within the two hour time frame of the movie, the couple meet, fall in love, fall out of love, break up, and then just before the end of the movie, they happen to bump into each other by "coincidence" somewhere absolutely absurd, like by the river. This never happens in real life. The last time I bumped into an ex-boyfriend was at three o'clock in the morning at Rite Aid. I was ringing up Gas-X and corn removers.

He firmly pulled her body against his and he brushed her lips with his. Staring into her eyes, he lightly slid his tongue across her bottom lip. She drew a deep, staggered breath in response to the wave of heat she felt flushing through her. Derrick smiled at her. Then, he softly kissed her. He lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers. He slid his hands up her body and cradled her face with his hands. Then, he passionately kissed her, tickling her tongue with his. He sucked her lips, gently, as though he was sampling nectar on a delicate petal. Then, with an intense urgency, he dipped his tongue past her lips, caressing her tongue with his. She felt fluttering inside. Anne’s body craved him. A shallow hum escaped from within her in response to how he was making her feel. She could feel his body responding to her. He was breathing heavier which was waking Anne’s primal needs. The tidal wave of lust that had just churned within her was slowly calming as his kiss became more subtle and tender. He gently pressed his lips against hers. He pulled back a little and looked away, exhaling.