OLIVIA: I wait for you. I watch for you. My whole life is you. I can’t breathe because I’m waiting for you. You own me, you control me, I belong to you…
FITZ:You own me! You control me. I belong to you. You think I don’t want to be a better man? You think that I don’t want to dedicate myself to my marriage? You don’t think I want to be honorable? To be the man you voted for? I love you. I’m in love with you. You’re the love of my life. My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t sleep without you. I wait for you, I watch for you. I exist for you. If I could escape all of this and run away with you? There’s no Sally and Thomas here. You’re nobody’s victim, Liv. I belong to you. We’re in this together.
I stayed home from work for a couple of days this week… partly because I have the flu, but mostly because I wanted to catch up on Scandal!
I may be a little late to this party, but how awesome is this show???
33 Facts You Learn About Mindy Kaling by Hanging Around Her
15. Right now, Kaling is single “and enjoying-slash-tolerating it,” she says. “It seems like when I have a serious relationship with someone, despite my schedule and everything else, they find a time to pursue me and date me. So I have this maybe naïve thing of, like, ‘Well, they’ll just find me.’ You know? ‘They will figure it out and find me and we will work it out.’”
16. It’s a belief that comes from how her parents met: In Nigeria, where her father was the architect designing the wing of the hospital her mother was working in. “She didn’t plan it, it just happened,” says Kaling. “She moved to Nigeria to be a doctor and was just living there and my dad met her and he pursued her. And as my grandmother always said, the best relationships are the ones where the guy likes the girl a little bit more than the girl likes the guy. So great, I’m busy. I’m doing something I love. And if someone really likes me, they will come and find me. I don’t mean that like, ‘Oh come find me.’ Like I’m this little daisy and I’m not a strong woman. I mean that if someone is willing, and they see what my schedule is, and they are really that interested, we’ll find a way. I don’t have to change that much.”
a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.
ROBIN: She’s got you on the hook. TED: What? I’m not on the hook. ROBIN: Ted, “right now” is the classic on-the-hook catchphrase. MARSHALL: Yup. “Right now” paints a picture of some sort of magical future time when everything will work out, but the truth is, that will never happen. ROBIN: You like having Henrietta around for the same reason that Tiffany likes having you around—it’s a nice little ego boost. She’s stringing you along. She’s not committing to you, but she’s keeping you around just in case, like an old can of chili in the pantry.
Um, who’s buying canned chili and not eating it immediately???
RUSSELL: Look, Jess, I’ve already done the crazy, explosive passion thing. When I was with Ouli, it was like edging closer and closer to a wood chipper… I’m not looking for that anymore. JESS: I understand. But I am. And I want passion. Even if it’s harder and hurts more.
A man fishes for two reasons: he’s either sport fishing or fishing to eat, which means he’s either going to try to catch the biggest fish he can, take a picture of it, admire it with his buddies and toss it back to sea, or he’s going to take that fish on home, scale it, fillet it, toss it in some cornmeal, fry it up, and put it on his plate. This, I think, is a great analogy for how men seek out women. It’s not the guy who determines whether you’re a sports fish or a keeper—it’s you. Every word you say, every move you make, every signal you give to a man will help him determine whether he should try to play you, be straight with you, or move on to the next woman to do a little more sport fishing.
About how you’ve never doubted for a second that I’m the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with.
And I guess he had never felt that way with my mom, even at their best.
There’s usually a scene in all my favorite shows that never fails to get me all choked up… like this scene from The Office where they explain how Jim’s feelings about Pam is what caused Pam’s dad to decide to leave her mom. Sometimes getting a taste of how things should be makes you realize you’re in the wrong place…
ROBIN: I am never going to have closure. Okay, closure doesn’t exist. It just… ended. And, no matter how much I try to forget that it happened, it will have never not happened. Don and I will always be a loose end. We will always be—
TED: Unfinished. Gaudí, to his credit, never gave up on his dream. But that’s not usually how it goes. Most of the time it’s just too difficult, too expensive, too scary. It’s only once you’ve stopped that you realize how hard it is to start again, so you force yourself not to want it. But it’s always there. And until you finish it, it will always be…
HAL: Well, let’s say that since you were little, you always dreamed of getting a lion. And you wait, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait but the lion doesn’t come. And along comes a giraffe. You can be alone, or you can be with the giraffe. OLIVER: I’d wait for the lion. HAL: That’s why I worry about you.
Why You Need A Man, Not A Boy | Mindy Kaling via Glamour
Until I was 30, I dated only boys. I’ll tell you why: Men scared the sh*t out of me. Men know what they want. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn’t on the floor. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they’re thinking of kissing you. Men wear clothes that have never been worn by anyone else before.
OK, maybe men aren’t exactly like this. But this is what I’ve cobbled together from the handful of men I know or know of, ranging from Heathcliff Huxtable to Theodore Roosevelt to my dad. The point: Men know what they want, and that is scary.
What I was used to was boys.
Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who “totally knows how to cut hair.” Boys can pack up their whole life and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have “gigs.” Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival.
Boys can talk for hours with you in a diner at three in the morning because they don’t have regular work hours. But they suck to date when you turn 30.
So I’m into men now, even though they can be frightening. I want a schedule-keeping, waking-up-early, wallet-carrying man. I don’t care if he takes prescription drugs for cholesterol or hair loss. (I don’t want that, but I can handle it. I’m a grown-up too.)
When I was 19, my co-worker Mike took one look at my 21-year-old boyfriend and told me that I needed to date a real man (Mike was 30 with tattoo sleeves on both arms—I’m pretty sure he was talking about himself). Fast forward 10 years, and I’m still not dating real men! Maybe I’ll consider upgrading when I turn 30… in 3 months. Yikes.
If they will do it with you, they will do it to you.
Dinner with friends turned into an emergency girl boy session at Station Tavern last night. Afterward, I polished off an entire bottle of wine by myself like I was the one hurting! Or… like it was just another Tuesday. Ha.
August was a tough month for love! Hello, September. I hope you’re amazeballs.
The universe is obvi confused about what we want, judging by the excessive amount of emergency girl sessions, tears and vino consumed this past month. So the girls and I wrote our own letters to the universe last night and lit that shit on fire.
We were enjoying some sangria afterward when the man at the neighboring fire pit offered us some brisket. Was the universe answering my letter already? Maybe I should have been more specific when I said I wanted more meat in my life!
When it’s going well, the fact of it is everywhere. It’s there in the song that shuffles into your ears. It’s there in the book you’re reading. It’s there on the shelves of the store as you reach for a towel and forget about the towel. It’s there as you open the door. As you stare off into the subway, it’s what you’re looking at. You wear it on the inside of your hat. It lines your pockets. It’s the temperature.
The hitch, of course, is that when it’s going badly, it’s in all the same places.
So avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose. Language was invented for one reason, boys—to woo women—and, in that endeavour, laziness will not do.
I’ve read your entire blog from beginning to end and it made me laugh, cry and everything in between. When I was reading I kept thinking, you’re so honest and you’re not afraid to say what you feel. If I ever bump into you on the streets of SD I would totally give you a big hug and say, Thank you!
Holy balls! Beginning to end??? When I started this blog in 2003, all I talked about was concerts, food and my boyfriend. 8 years later, I’m still blogging about concerts, food and my (now ex) boyfriends! Some things never change…
I feel like I lead a different life on the interwebs, because IRL I’m not this candid. Here, I’m not afraid to admit that I still think about you without feeling like a total idiot… Maybe you’ll read it, but most likely you won’t. It’s easier to say these things when you think that no one is listening.
If you were able to identify with anything I’ve written these past 8 years, then I’m glad you found my blog 🙂
HENRY: I didn’t want to tell you, because as long as you didn’t know, there was still… I don’t know… some fantasy where you and I could be together. BETTY: Sometimes we want things to be different. We think maybe if we pretend that they are… fool people… that’s enough. But it never is.
I have a habit of getting addicted to shows after they’ve already been canceled. And I hate when they say, “To be continued…” at the end of an episode, because even when it’s past my bedtime, I have to continue.
This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as one of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that – more often than not – she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate each other at the end. And you might walk away from each other one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes a hold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that – gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.
Arlene’s 7-year-old daughter, Gisella, made me a Valentine’s Day card at school because she knew I didn’t have a Valentine this year. Thanks for the reminder, kid! Haha. I love that little munchkin. I would pin her card up in my cube at work, but it’d be overshadowed by Belle’s gaggle of heart-shaped balloons!
Some people pass through your life and you never think about them again. Some you think about and wonder what ever happened to them. Some you wonder if they ever wonder what happened to you. And then there are some you wish you never had to think about again. But you do.
The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.
Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80’s movies? I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80’s movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life.