But Facebook is no place to tell your friends your husband treated you to a Brazilian wax.
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 don’t have sex with you — 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 gaslightgoodbye)
Haha the end is great.(via shells18)
I’ve been thinking recently about friends who are no longer friends, but because I am the way I am, I still think about them and try to talk to them and keep up the friendship.
But the hard reality of most of those “friendships” is they ended a long time ago, mostly due to geographic locations (not that anything bad happened) and had I not been the one contacting them and trying to keep in touch, they would never have tried.
So this post, minus the things that are obviously meant for a romantic relationship, is so true. And I try to keep telling myself things like “If they didn’t send you a card/say congrats when you invited them to your wedding” or “If they didn’t say anything about your daughter’s birth” then they aren’t interested in you or your life.
Bottom line, if I went through my FB and removed all of my “friends” who are no longer friends, what would be left? It’s really kind of terrifying to think of how many people I was once close with who I no longer talk to or would feel comfortable talking to.
I need to get over it and leave it be or cut it down to who matters most, but either way I need to stop expending energy on people who are not doing the same for me.
That sometimes I’m a swaddle master and other times I do it like I’ve never done it before?
It’s not that difficult but apparently it is.
That is a record. Too bad it wasn’t the five hours between midnight and five, but hey. I’ll take it where I can.
La Bamba’s was amazing.
Best drunk super nachos ever in the history of history.
It has been closed a long time on campus (and clearly I haven’t been on campus or drunk in a long time) but I still mention how great it was every time I visit and walk past that old building. So… Less than once a year on average.
Ohhhh the memories.
Like pretending the guys on the other side of the counter thought it was cute when I gave my order in Spanish.
Those were the days.
- It’s called Master of the Universe.
- It was originally published on Fanfiction.net (aka where fanfiction goes to die).
- E.L. James’ pen name was Snowqueens Icedragon because of course it was.
- Snowqueens Icedragon does not use quotation marks.
- She does, however, make up expressions like "my very small inner goddess sways in a gentle victorious samba" and “I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone.”
- They spend more time filling out sex-related paperwork than they do actually having sex.
- This is my reaction to all of the sex scenes:
- Because the human body doesn’t work like that.
- This is my reaction to everything else:
- Because the english language doesn’t work like that.
The 50 Shades of Grey trailer just dropped, so here’s a link to the original Twilight fanfiction that the book is “based” off of, because if you’re gonna read the book before you see the movie you might as well read it in its original format.
I too am hating on 50 Shades of Grey, and the horrible horribleness that it is. I tried watching the trailer this morning and it somehow didn’t have any sound, which was probably for the better since it was hard to watch and that way I didn’t waste my time or my ears listening to its stupidity.
I must say this.
If I wrote a crappy-ass book such as 50SOG, and it turned into a worldwide “phenomenon” (as it seems to be called), and then a movie was made out of it, I’d be laughing all the way to the bank.
So good on E.L. James.
And shame on me for not writing a shitty book sooner.
Not the good kind either.
Not the Chipotle burrito jail.
Baja Fresh burrito jail.