The Latest

It sucks when someone you have feelings for doesn’t share those feelings; it happens to women all the time, too. We hear “I just want to be friends” and “you’re like one of the guys” and “you’re like a sister to me” just as often. But you’ll never hear a woman complain that guys just don’t appreciate a Nice Girl because we’re taught it’s our own fucking fault when we’re rejected—we aren’t pretty enough or thin enough or sexy enough, we weren’t sexual enough or were too sexual, we put out too much or too little or too soon or not soon enough, we didn’t wear our hair the right way or our skirt the right length, we’re “too tomboyish” or “too butch” or “too feminine”, or we’re “not their type”, or we’re otherwise not good enough in various ways to entice the man to grace us with his affection.

But when we’re not interested in someone, we’re vilified. We’re the bitch that lead them on, the bitch who let them buy us dinner but didn’t want to date them, the bitch who doesn’t appreciate a nice guy, the bitch they were nice to and then got nothing in return from.

And, frankly, fuck those people. Showing interest in me, being friendly with me, getting close to me, or eating a meal with me (even if they paid for it) doesn’t obligate me to open my heart or my legs. And anyone who doesn’t appreciate my friendship sure as hell doesn’t deserve my love or my pussy.

Apr 13, 2014 / 230,021 notes
Mar 24, 2014 / 186 notes

Neal Caffrey and the ladies - Alex Hunter [2/5]

Mar 4, 2014 / 322 notes
Mar 4, 2014 / 15 notes
Mar 4, 2014 / 299 notes
Mar 3, 2014

I’ll just be content with the fact that I’m prettier than her.

Mar 2, 2014 / 4,959 notes
Mar 2, 2014 / 114 notes
mediclopedia:

A perfect view of the balance between chaos and order within an operating room.
Mar 2, 2014 / 330 notes

mediclopedia:

A perfect view of the balance between chaos and order within an operating room.

Mar 2, 2014

Sometimes you have to accept that you’ve lost someone.

It sucks, and it hurts like hell. Whatever you had is done; whatever could have been won’t happen. But when you accept that you’ve lost someone, you accept that there’s something better coming your way. When you finally move on, something more awaits

Cheating is not always kissing, touching and flirting. If you have to delete your text messages so your partner won’t see them. You’re already there.
Mar 2, 2014 / 1,461 notes
Mar 1, 2014 / 2,668 notes
Feb 15, 2014 / 1,276 notes

A boy sprawled next to me on the bus, elbows out, knee pointing sharp into my thigh.
He frowned at me when I uncrossed my legs, unfolded my hands
and splayed out like boys are taught to: all big, loose limbs.
I made sure to jab him in the side with my pretty little sharp purse.
At first he opened his mouth like I expected him to, but instead of speaking up he sat there, quiet, and took it for the whole bus ride.
Like a girl.

Once, a boy said my anger was cute, and he laughed,
and I remember thinking that I should sit there and take it,
because it isn’t ladylike to cause a scene and girls aren’t supposed to raise their voices.
But then he laughed again and all I saw
was my pretty little sharp nails digging into his cheek
before drawing back and making a horribly unladylike fist.
(my teacher informed me later that there is no ladylike way of making a fist.)

When we were both in the principal’s office twenty minutes later
him with a bloody mouth and cheek, me with skinned knuckles,
I tried to explain in words that I didn’t have yet
that I was tired of having my emotions not taken seriously
just because I’m a girl.

Girls are taught: be small, so boys can be big.
Don’t take up any more space than absolutely necessary.
Be small and smooth with soft edges
and hold in the howling when they touch you and it hurts:
the sandpaper scrape of their body hair that we would be shamed for having,
the greedy hands that press too hard and too often take without asking permission.

Girls are taught: be quiet and unimposing and oh so small
when they heckle you with their big voices from the window of a car,
because it’s rude to scream curse words back at them, and they’d just laugh anyway.
We’re taught to pin on smiles for the boys who jeer at us on the street
who see us as convenient bodies instead of people.

Girls are taught: hush, be hairless and small and soft,
so we sit there and take it and hold in the howling,
pretend to be obedient lapdogs instead of the wolves we are.
We pin pretty little sharp smiles on our faces instead of opening our mouths,
because if we do we get accused of silly women emotions
blowing everything out of proportion with our PMS, we get
condescending pet names and not-so-discreet eyerolls.

Once, I got told I punched like a girl.
I told him, Good. I hope my pretty little sharp rings leave scars.

'My Perfume Doubles As Mace,' theappleppielifestyle. (via queenofeden)

"My high heels double as weapons"

(via stfueverything)

(via lovelyeveningmydear)

Feb 4, 2014 / 187,908 notes
Feb 4, 2014 / 157,949 notes