|Posted on April 18 with 206,114 notes via steveinaspeedo||Reblog|
Recently, your mother and I were searching for an answer on Google. Halfway through entering the question, Google returned a list of the most popular searches in the world. Perched at the top of the list was “How to keep him interested.”
It startled me. I scanned several of the countless articles about how to be sexy and sexual, when to bring him a beer versus a sandwich, and the ways to make him feel smart and superior.
And I got angry.
Little One, it is not, has never been, and never will be your job to “keep him interested.”
Little One, your only task is to know deeply in your soul—in that unshakeable place that isn’t rattled by rejection and loss and ego—that you are worthy of interest. (If you can remember that everyone else is worthy of interest also, the battle of your life will be mostly won. But that is a letter for another day.)
If you can trust your worth in this way, you will be attractive in the most important sense of the word: you will attract a boy who is both capable of interest and who wants to spend his one life investing all of his interest in you.
Little One, I want to tell you about the boy who doesn’t need to be keptinterested, because he knows you are interesting:
I don’t care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table—as long as he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches when you smile. And then can’t stop looking.
I don’t care if he can’t play a bit of golf with me—as long as he can play with the children you give him and revel in all the glorious and frustrating ways they are just like you.
I don’t care if he doesn’t follow his wallet—as long as he follows his heart and it always leads him back to you.
I don’t care if he is strong—as long as he gives you the space to exercise the strength that is in your heart.
I couldn’t care less how he votes—as long as he wakes up every morning and daily elects you to a place of honor in your home and a place of reverence in his heart.
I don’t care about the color of his skin—as long as he paints the canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.
I don’t care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or no religion—as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred.
In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common:
Because in the end, Little One, the only thing you should have to do to “keep him interested” is to be you.
Your eternally interested guy,
This post is, of course, dedicated to my daughter, my Cutie-Pie. But I also want to dedicate it beyond her.
I wrote it for my wife, who has courageously held on to her sense of worth and has always held me accountable to being that kind of “boy.”
I wrote it for every grown woman I have met inside and outside of my therapy office—the women who have never known this voice of a Daddy.
And I wrote it for the generation of boys-becoming-men who need to be reminded of what is really important—my little girl finding a loving, lifelong companion is dependent upon at least one of you figuring this out. I’m praying for you.
— Dr. Kelly Flanagan
Happy International Women’s Day
|Posted on April 18 with 226,391 notes via yolesoteldo||Reblog|
- “A Cat’s Guide To Taking Care of Your Human” [x]
I don’t even like cats and this is cute.
|Posted on April 18 with 194,321 notes via the-absolute-funniest-posts||Reblog|
Remember how happy they were during the first proposal? Well, they are MARRIED NOW! YES!!!
|Posted on April 18 with 605 notes via lifeissatisfactory||Reblog|
just some puns
|Posted on April 18 with 10,559 notes via lifeissatisfactory||Reblog|
cat stuck in a bathtub
|Posted on April 18 with 75,581 notes via 8itchin-8fold||Reblog|
|Posted on April 18 with 571,714 notes via becausebo0bs||Reblog|
Thank you, love!!! :D
|Posted on April 17 with 1 note||Reblog|
This is an ancient Roman amulet for luck. Yes those are flying penises.
Also of note, the Roman god of marriage, Mutunus Tutunus, whose name is derived from two Latin slang words for penis. His name is essentially Dick Wiener. If you have ever wondered just how much like us the Romans were, read the etymology section.
It’s a flying fuck.
It used to be given, and now look, it’s no more.
LITERALLY. A FLYING FUCK.
|Posted on April 17 with 54,103 notes via imitate-the-sun||Reblog|
|Posted on April 17 with 237,082 notes via lifeissatisfactory||Reblog|
|Posted on April 17 with 343 notes via lifeissatisfactory||Reblog|
Two scientists walk into a bar
The first says “I’ll have some H2O.”
The second says “I’ll have some H2O, too.”
Both of them receive water because the bartender is not irresponsible enough to serve concentrated hydrogen peroxide as a drink.
the other version
|Posted on April 17 with 344,675 notes via enby-blues||Reblog|
Qiandao Lake is a man-made lake located in Chun’an County, China, where archeologists have discovered in 2001 ruins of an underwater city. The city is at a depth of 26-40 meters and was named “Lion City”. There would have been 290 000 people living in this city during more than 1300 years. Touristic expeditions are projected. A diving into Chinese Antiquity in the next part of the article.
|Posted on April 17 with 138,121 notes via thewritingcafe||Reblog|
So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.
OMG ITS BACK
This shit needs to be published.
This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.
|Posted on April 17 with 149,064 notes via wildhaunt||Reblog|
|Posted on April 17 with 5,308 notes via disneyaddictgirl||Reblog|