WHERE IT ALL BEGAN: "If Channing Tatum were your boyfriend, he would get you the worst birthday gifts, but he would look at you with such love that you would never care. Then he would dance for you."
If Lea Salonga were your best friend, your text messages would be laced with song lyrics, things you were too shy to tweet, and the occasional dreamcast prediction for the live-action Mulan.
If Oscar Isaac were your boyfriend, he'd know about your penchant for doodling people during long phone calls. You’d leave your notebook open on the kitchen counter and return later to find your sketches surrounded by speech bubbles, giving them fascinating conversations that hinted at rich inner lives.
If Oscar Isaac were your boyfriend, sometimes he’d jokingly call you his “problematic fave.”
BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO CONCEDE THAT ANY FIGHT MIGHT BE ABOUT A SPECIFIC SET OF CIRCUMSTANCES AND REPEATEDLY INSIST IT'S ABOUT "THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING," BUT IF EVERYTHING IS A PRINCIPLE THEN NOTHING IS
The Five Love Languages is a bestselling book that discusses the five essential ways that people "speak and understand emotional love." The primary love languages include Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Receiving Gifts, Quality Time, and Physical Touch, but many readers are unaware of the remaining seventeen categories, which are:
This month Aunt Acid advises a reader whose boyfriend is down about his unemployment, and another who is wondering how to tell her husband about a past sexual assault.
If Josh Hutcherson were your boyfriend, he would entertain your friends for hours, mixing cocktails like a wise bartender during Prohibition and listening intently to their tales of workplace microaggressions and bad scones.
If Mary-Louise Parker were your girlfriend, you’d laze in bed together on Sunday mornings, with just thin, jersey-cotton sheets as the only barrier between your bodies and the air, and she would read Wallace Stevens aloud to you. You’d debate the pros and cons of austerity in poetry until she said, “Honey, we’re saying the same thing,” and then kissed you through a smile.
If Mary-Louise Parker were your girlfriend, she would normally keep her
You listen to the quiet hum of your best friends’ breathing, the ocean baptizing the shore again and again. This moment is the closest thing to home you’ve felt in a long time.
It is profoundly disturbing to imply that adopted kids should feel lucky to be alive, which is exactly how it felt every time my grandmother (or religion teacher, or other various and sundry well-intentioned commenters) spouted off some iteration of “your birthmother chose life.”
