The Price of Admission -Dan Savage
August 28, 2014, 6:39 pm
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There is no settling down without some settling for. There is no long-term relationship not just putting up with your partner’s flaws, but accepting them and then pretending they aren’t there. We like to call it in my house “paying the price of admission.”

[...]

 

You can’t have a long-term relationship with someone unless you’re willing to identify the prices of admission you’re willing to pay — and the ones you’re not. But the ones you’re not — the list of things you’re not willing to put up with — you really have to be able to count [them] on one hand…

 

People, when they’re young, have this idea… “There’s someone out there who’s perfect for me”… “The one.”

 

“The one” does not fucking exist.

 

“The one” is a lie. But the beautiful part of the lie is that it’s a lie you can tell yourself.

Any long-term relationship that’s successful is really a myth that two people create together … and myths are built of lies, and there’s usually some kernel of truth…

 

When you think about it, you meet somebody for the first time, and they’re not presenting their warts-and-all self to you — they’re presenting their idealized self to you, they’re leading with their best. And then, eventually, you’re farting in front of each other. Eventually, you get to see the person who is behind that facade of their best, and they get to see the person your facade, your lie-self — this lie that you presented to them about who you really are. And what’s beautiful about a long-term relationship, and what can be transformative about it, is that I pretend every day that my boyfriend is the lie that I met when I first met him. And he does that same favor to me — he pretends that I’m that better person than I actually am. Even though he knows I’m not. Even though I know he’s not. And we then are obligated to live up to the lies we told each other about who we are — we are then forced to be better people than we actually are, because it’s expected of us by each other.

 

And you can, in a long-term relationship, really make your lie-self come true — if you’re smart, and you demand it of them, and you’re willing to give it to them… That’s the only way you become “the one” — it’s because somebody is willing to pretend you are. “The one” that they were waiting for, “the one” they wanted, their “one.” Because you’re not — nobody is. No two people are perfect for each other, ever, period — No two people are 100% sexually compatible, no two people are 100% emotionally compatible, no two people want the same things. And if you can’t reconcile yourself to that, you will have no relationships that last longer than two months.

 

And you know what? It’s not going to be their fault — it’s going to be your fault.



Gravity and Center -Henri Cole
August 26, 2014, 8:22 pm
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I’m sorry I cannot say I love you when you say

you love me. The words, like moist fingers,

appear before me full of promise but then run away

to a narrow black room that is always dark,

where they are silent, elegant, like antique gold,

devouring the thing I feel. I want the force

of attraction to crush the force of repulsion

and my inner and outer worlds to pierce

one another, like a horse whipped by a man.

I don’t want words to sever me from reality.

I don’t want to need them. I want nothing

to reveal feeling but feeling—as in freedom,

or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond,

or the sound of water poured in a bowl.



Mr. Darcy -Victoria Chang
August 19, 2014, 6:34 am
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Then we are in the back seat of a car kissing
           not the light kind but one where our
    hands are on each other’s cheeks holding
                 each other’s heads as if they will fall

off why does so much love come at the beginning
           then disappear then once again at the moment
      before death why can’t the same kind exist
                  in between in the breaths in the

afternoon in the sitting room in a place of costumes
            little girls dress like princesses one pink one
      blue one yellow they wear plastic heels because
                 they still think they will never fall



& another
August 11, 2014, 7:43 pm
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“Love, being in love, isn’t a constant thing. It doesn’t always flow at the same strength. It’s not always like a river in flood. It’s more like the sea. It has tides, it ebbs and flows. The thing is, when love is real, whether it’s ebbing or flowing, it’s always there, it never goes away. And that’s the only proof you can have that it is real, and not just a crush or an infatuation or a passing fancy.” — Aidan Chambers

 

this quote changed me. CHANGED ME. sometimes i feel like i’m not “in it” to the point where i should be, or not “enough” like his enough, or am left wondering why i am thinking about other things, like what to eat for lunch, when maybe i should be thinking about him, and how maybe he’s hungry. but this quote is the truth. we ebb. we flow. but it’s constant AND THAT’S PERFECT.



August 10, 2014, 3:22 pm
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“we’re recovering together” -b



thanks, lucy
August 9, 2014, 2:26 pm
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cheesy, but appropriate. why 2018 is worth it:

Lets face it, you did steal me. But you saved my life too. And somewhere in the middle, you showed me a place so different and beautiful, I can never get it out of my mind. And I can’t get you out of there either. — Lucy Christopher



streamin’
August 5, 2014, 6:07 pm
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wrote this sunday afternoon. it was raining, i’d just eaten way too much pasta, and realized i’d been doing  a lot more reading than writing lately. so here’s a lil’ first draft..  i’m going to tuck it away for a few weeks and then tear into it.

PENPALS

He prays for me
kneels down on wet
concrete. It’s loud

but he weeps for me,
dips his amateur blues
into rough hands
that guide his cock home,

and he just stays-

prays like that, with all
this lustrous faith, always
all the stars stacked
in his damp corner

I send him a photo
of my smile, try
not to let the crumbs
show because

he’s hungry.

He anticipates me
says it just like that,
like a man who knows
how not to anticipate

I claim his words under
the comforter, saturated
with no one,

leaking another
poem into his letters.




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