Do you remember Paris?

You have never said much. You save words, I spend them. One of us is richer for it. As always I made my choices about what you were thinking. It made it easier for me, to assume an understanding of your desire.

Romantic Love vs. Friendship Love

Olivia Wilde said, "...but the difference between romantic love and friendship love is that romantic love involves a lot of compromise. It is a very giving type of love. With friendship, you can be a little bit more autonomous. You are not expected to compromise, in the same way. Maybe that's why friendships tend to last longer. I don't know." 

I am sort of captivated by what creates a strong/successful friendship versus a strong/successful relationship. I think Olivia Wilde is right: it is a matter of expectations, effort, and a natural willingness on both ends to go all-in. Compromise, though, and a very selfless, giving love — that does seem to be the bottom line of it.

Almost A Crime

With a slow start, and very unlikable characters, on a topic primarily about adultery, I didn't think I was going to like this Penny Vincenzi novel as much as her others... Ten chapters in, however, after emotionally investing the characters, I pushed on reading to see Tom (the rather charming and handsome husband with a wandering eye) get his comeuppance.
The aftershocks caused by Tom's earth shaking affair spread far and wide affecting not just a lot of people but businesses of theirs and their friends too. Interesting to read how each character views his terrible affair, and personally I found myself yelling at the pages soundly on Octavia's side. But my view shifted during part three of the story. Anyone who picks up this book and finishes it will have changed their view on adultery, I know I have.
I always like to think that their is a moral to every story, and this story screams that "bad" events can never just be blamed on one person - there is always another person involved, another factor to consider.

“Stop minimizing and discounting your feelings. You have every right to feel the way you do. Your feelings may not always be logical, but they are always valid. Because if you feel something, then you feel it and it’s real to you. It’s not something you can ignore or wish away. It’s there, gnawing at you, tugging at your core, and in order to find peace, you have to give yourself permission to feel whatever it is you feel. You have to let go of what you’ve been told you “should” or “shouldn’t” feel. You have to drown out the voices of people who try to shame you into silence. You have to listen to the sound of your own breathing and honor the truth inside you. Because despite what you may believe, you don’t need anyone’s validation or approval to feel what you feel. Your feelings are inherently right and true. They’re important and they matter — you matter — and it is more than okay to feel what you feel. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, convince you otherwise.”

— Daniell Koepke

Not Safe In Taxis

Long ago when I was a teenager, my mum and I talked about men in her youth who she labelled NSIT - Not Safe In Taxis.

What is a man who is NSIT?

Men who were very gentlemanly on dates but lady killers in a taxi when escorting them home. You know the seductive types, they slip in close next to you, a warm hand on thigh, their breath on your neck, waiting for that perfect opportunity of you turning to look at them so they can catch your lips with theirs. If you get of the taxi, you've lost the battle completely, because they're going to pull you into their warm embrace and push you over the edge with that goodnight kiss. Of course it was never a goodnight kiss, was it? We've all been in that position, not that it's a bad position to be in - you're both attracted to each other, so why not reward each other with pleasure?

It's something every young woman in her twenties needs to know - call it vital information.

Read this and thought of you...

Perfect Timing by Michael Faudet

Sometimes you make me feel like a clock perched on a dusty shelf, she said.

Counting down the hours, the minutes and seconds until we meet.

And when we do, the hands become my legs.

Forever stuck on 4.40pm.

"Clio, I wanted to have dinner with you because I love your company - I adore your company. You're so interesting and thoughtful--"
"Oh yes," she said, "very exciting that makes me sound. Interesting and thoughtful..."
"It is to me, you silly bitch," he said.
She stared at him. "What did you say?"
"I said you were exciting, to me. I find you very exciting. And today I was very proud of you and--"
"Yes, but what else?"
"I said you were a silly bitch. Ok? I'm sorry."
At the top of the escalator he turned and faced her.
"Look," he said, "I don't know how I can convince you that I like being with you. That I find you terribly attractive. You're driving me mad. What do you want, woman? A signed declaration? Here-" he pulled a sheet of paper out of the small Filofax he kept in his pocket, "here you are. I, Fergus Trehearne, find you, Clio Scott - I don't know what you're married name is, but if I could get hold of your husband I'd punch the living daylights out of him, for doing what he has to you, I find you incredibly exciting and interesting and desirable and I would like to remove all your clothing right here." He tore the paper off, handed it to her. "There. Will that do? Now then, we'd better go and find your bloody train."
Clio stood very still and stared, first at him, then at the piece of paper; then she said: "Fergus, I don't want to get the bloody train. And I don't have to. I want to stay with you. And I want you to remove all my clothing. As soon as possible. Only not just here, maybe."
"Well, where then?" he said, speaking very slowly. He raised his hand, tilted her face up to his.
Clio felt a lurch in what she could only describe as her guts. A strong, probing lurch. It led to part of her anatomy that had been dormant for quite a long time. It wasn't dormant now. It appeared to be on the rampage.
"I believe you've got a flat," she said very quietly. "And could you just say that once again?"
"What?"
"You know, about me being a silly bitch?"
"But why?"
"Well, because it proves you weren't just being polite. It's about the biggest compliment I ever had."
"I can do a lot better than that," he said, "you silly bitch." And he started to kiss her.

- 'Sheer Abandon' by Penny Vincenzi