seven reasons to be a shallow perv

I have discovered the power of the pussy

If they don’t reply to your texts — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t call you — they’re not interested in you.

If they forget your birthday — they’re not interested in you.

If they’re hung up on their ex — they’re not interested in you.

If they’re obsessed with being single — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t want to meet your friends — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t want you to meet their friends — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t ask questions about your life — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t tell you things about their life — they’re not interested in you.

If they only speak to you when they want to have sex with you — they’re not interested in you.

If they only have sex with you when they’re drunk — they’re not interested in you.

If they say “should we just keep this between us?’ after you have sex with them — they’re not interested in you.

If they can always find a psychobabble rationale about who “I am” or “you are” or “we are” as reason why you can’t be together — they’re not interested in you.

If they have said for more than six months that they would like to be with you “BUT” — they’re not interested in you.

And if you still need convincing — think of it this way. Think of what the real day-to-day of life is taken up by. Life is birthday parties at terrible pubs. Life is losing your credit card and the annual Melbourne Cup sweepstake in the office. Life is hen’s nights, bucks’ nights, sitting on the phone for three hours to get U2 tickets and not getting them, the apartment upstairs flooding your house, interval training, calorie counting, cancer scares, illegal mini cabs, Secret Santa, rail replacement buses and Dido albums. Dogs die, cars crash, bin liners break, contracts end, curtain rails collapse, trains get delayed, football teams lose. Divorce happens and so do earthquakes and so does An Audience With Michael Bublé. Landlords put rent up, phones get stolen and the supermarket often completely runs out of hummus.

Now, taking all of the above into account — you look me dead in the eye and tell me the truth. Do you really have enough spare energy to pursue someone who isn’t interested in you? Do you really want to waste any more time on top of all of that? No. Me neither. So give it up, my friend. It’s a loser’s game. Delete their number. Don’t go on any more dates with them. Stop lurking their Facebook page. Feels good, doesn’t it?

Dolly Alderton  (via chocolatehighhh)

(Source: gaslightgoodbye, via lexigolden1)

Maybe words aren’t enough. Maybe you need to see my face twist in pain. Maybe you need to hold out your hand and let the tears I never cry burn a hole right through your palm. Maybe I need to cover your mouth so you lose your breath like I do when I listen to music. Maybe you need to hear my fist pound the desk as I scream the words an inch from your face. Maybe I need to stab you with my words. Maybe I need to kiss you with them. If I hate you with them, will you feel it then? Maybe you need to put your ear to my chest so you can wonder if that’s my heart or a bloody machine gun. Maybe you need my eyes so you can see the horrors I see in the mirror. You never believe me when I tell you, so maybe you need them to see what I see when I look at you. Maybe I need to put my arms around you so you can feel me shaking. Maybe you need to see the look on my face when I lie and say it’s just adrenaline. Maybe my words are shit and never come out the way they sound in my head, so maybe I’ll just stop talking. Then maybe all you’ll need to do is just fucking hold me.

—(via orlansky)

(via lexigolden1)

quinterruption:

“I went through it all on set: I fell in love with a woman, and I watched my life play out on screen. And now, as we are gearing up for the release of season 2, it feels liberating and appropriate to live my life in front of you.”

Cute but was anyone else thinking„„

(Source: frankydagostino, via lexigolden1)

Pull my hair.
Press me back against the wall.
Slam me against it.
Bite my bottom lip until I cry out and let me do the same to you.
Take your frustration out on me.
Let me feel it in the way you kiss my lips.
In the way you grip my hips.
Ravish me.
Cherish me.
Let me feel your love.

There is something about
night-time that seems to
accentuate
everything.
Forgotten feelings
you have buried in
your chest.
The empty space
in the palm of
your hand.
This unspoken hurt
that gnaws on
your bones
and leaves you
aching
for someone to tell you
the secrets of survival.

—A.Y // these are trying times (via psych-facts)

(via lexigolden1)

fortunatemind:

If youre my girlfriend then there is absolutely no need to get jealous because im probably obsessed with you

(via lexigolden1)

'Spend your time on those who love you unconditionally. Don't waste it on those that only love you when the conditions are right for them'

—(via vogue—dior)

(via gaylauren)

But sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes we are sad but we don’t really know we are sad. So we say we aren’t sad. But really we are.

—Mark Haddon  (via silentious)

(Source: hellanne, via gaylauren)