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Date Quotes

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Date Quotes

“Because he has finally realized that it is it and not him that is loved by the woman he loves, many a man is jealous of his own car, house, wardrobe, or salary.”

“Many a woman is in a relationship with or married to her man not because she loves him but only because she likes men like him.”

“Many a woman would not be in a relationship with or married to her man, if he earned half of what he earns; and many a man would not be in a relationship with or married to his woman, if he earned twice as much as he earns.”

“May I kiss you?” Finally. “Yes.” He smiled as he threaded his fingers through my hair. Carefully, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. His mouth was warm and gentle against my skin, but it wasn’t enough. “Please tell me that wasn’t what you meant.” He laughed softly. “There’s more.” He kissed my cheek, my jaw, and hovered a fraction above my mouth. I ached for his kiss, and when the waiting stretched too long, I closed the distance. He took over, which was just as well, because I forgot where I was or the time or my name. The only thing in the world was his mouth. That kiss. Us.”

“His arm slid around my shoulders and drew me to him. It was odd, sitting there under the veil of darkness, watching the neighborhood settle down. Lamps burned in windows. TVs flickered. A few houses down, the rhythmic thud of a basketball on concrete and muffled laughter alerted us to the only other people outside on this glorious fall night. “This is a perfect date,” I said. He tensed. “You’d call it a date?” “Sure. You wouldn’t?” He looked down at me, his eyes glittering in the faint light. “I thought American girls liked more formality in a date.” “More money is what you mean.” I smiled. “It’s a date. Don’t argue with me.” “I never do.”

“The vacancy in your heart doesn't connotes that nobody is seeking for the job of servicing your feelings, but because the employee must first have all the necessary credentials needed for the job.”

“We kissed for two hours. Eventually, I led him into my bedroom and pulled off both of our shirts. He stopped me. "This might sound weird; it's not typical guy response." I froze, suddenly awkward. "I mean, if I didn't feel the way I do with you I would be all for it, but I kind of think maybe it would be good to wait. I've rushed into sex, and had it be a mistake." He shrugged apologetically. "I mean, if it's safe to assume you are experiencing the same date that I am, then I think we will have time." I was a little flabbergasted and more than a little embarrassed. How could I explain that the idea sounded like a huge relief to me, that I didn't quite understand where the impulse to start taking my clothes off came from? I had had the same experience. I rarely enjoyed first-time sex with partners, largely because I usually did it before I really knew or trusted them. Here was where the difference between what I knew and did remained wide. The shame I felt wash over me was tinged with that hatred of my own innocence. Was I still so green? So unconfident? Had I gone straight out of the extremity of sex work to the innocence of my adolescence? Where was my self-knowledge? Still, I was relieved. "Of course. I agree totally." I clutched my T-shirt to my chest and smiled at him. "And yes, I am on the same date you are on." "I thought so," he said. "I mean, I don't think you can feel like this when it's not reciprocal." He left at 2:00 A.M. and called me at 11:00 the next morning to schedule our second date.”

“Women always have and always will continue to date a man's potential instead of his reality. We can't help ourselves. It's in a woman's nature to be hopeful and to see the possibilities, the greatness that people possess. Hooray for us; aren't we lovely. We are, but dating someone's potential is probably the biggest mistake women make in relationships and certainly the one that leads to our romantic downfall. That's because there are three types of men: the ones that find our faith in their potential to be appealing, the ones that find our faith in their potential to be a burden...and the ones that find it appealing at first, then are crushed by the burden of their unreached potential and resentful of the women they once adored for that very faith.”

“A bout of nerves crept up my spine and I tilted my head at him, hoping I was imagining the heat spreading over my cheeks to spare myself the embarrassment of blushing merely because he was piercing me with those chocolate eyes that I had never noticed were so amazing. “What are you staring at?” “Can I take you to prom?” He asked me. Just like that, no hesitation or insecurity to be found in his tone or facial expression. His confidence caught me completely off guard and I gaped at him in a stunned silence for almost twenty full seconds. His expression never faltered, though. He just watched my mouth work to make some sort of intelligible sound, waiting for my answer as he oozes at least the illusion of complete calm. “Huh?” I blurted in an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak. I sounded like a chipmunk and his smirk made me turn a deep shade of red. “Um… Uh… Prom?” I managed, eloquent as ever. He laughed at me fondly, nodding his head. “Yeah, prom.” Shock was not a deep enough word to describe what I was feeling over this proposal. This was Jim, the kid who swore up and down he would rather gouge out his eyes with a grapefruit spoon than put on dress clothes and he was offering to take me to a place where flannel shirts and ratty jeans were unacceptable and dance me around a room in uncomfortable shoes all night long? This couldn’t be real life. But it was real life. I was sitting in the car with him with my mouth hanging open like a fish waiting for him to laugh and tell me he was kidding, that there was no way he was going to put on a tie for my benefit, and he was sitting right there, a slightly nervous look crossing his features over my dumbstruck expression. Breathe, Lizzie, I scolded myself. Answer him! Say yes! You could have knocked me over with a feather and I was very relieved to be sitting down in a car so I could prevent anything humiliating from happening. Having already proved I could not trust my voice to answer him I jerkily nodded my head as my mouth grew into a Cheshire cat sized smile. I turned my face away and hid behind my hair as if I could hide my excitement from the world. Jim was visibly euphoric and that only made me want to squeal even more. He was excited to take me out. How cool was that?”

“Finally, I laugh. Genuine and normal sounding. And then my date says the best thing that he could possibly say: “It’s okay. I haven’t been on one of these [dates] in a while either.” My smile triples in size. Josh grins. “Just give me your hand.” “W–what?” “Your hand,” he repeats. “Give it to me.” I extend my shaking right hand. And – in a moment that is a hundred dreams come true – Joshua Wasserstein laces his fingers through mine. A staggering shock of energy shoots straight into my veins. Straight into my heart. “There,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”

“My first kiss I regret. My first date I regret. But I do not regret the choice to say I love you for the first time. Even though that was the melodramatic story. Even though that one ended badly. I don’t regret it. Because that time ... that night, I was myself. I found my feelings and honored them. I loved myself enough to trust what I felt and say what I needed to say. And I chose to be myself. I was present as I delivered my awkward speech and felt each pound of my beating heart. I had never been more of myself than in that moment.”

“A relationship is likely to last way longer, if each partner convinces or has convinced themselves that they do not deserve their partner, even if that is not true.”

“Some people will hate you for not loving them.”

“I love your car.” I tell him as he starts the engine. “Thanks. I do too.” He says steering the car to the main road. “Can I drive it someday?” I ask, willing him to say yes. “Sure. Someday.” He says, a corner of his lips slightly lifting up. “I’m serious.” I pout. He looks at me, "So am I. Someday, you can drive her.” And then adds “Maybe” very quietly, I could barely hear him. I narrow my eyes at him. “Why are you so against this?” “I’m not-“ He sighs then as he turns at a corner. “It’s just, this car is my baby-“ “So.” I interrupt him abruptly. “So, do you even know how to drive, Rose? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you behind the wheels.” “I’ve never seen you take a shower that doesn’t mean you don’t take a bath, does it?” I try to give him an example than blush furiously as Alex raises an eyebrow at me. How do I always manage to get myself in these situations with him? “You are welcome to come and see me shower at any given moment.” He says. “Stop it.” I look out the window so he doesn’t notice just how red my cheeks were. “No seriously, you don’t even have to ask.” “How about you just dig a hole at the side of the road, and I’ll jump into it.”

“Everything has happen, will happen and it's going to happen in one moment. There isn't even and time, time is an illusion - get it?? It even doesn't exist, I'm here now, but even the word "now" doesn't exist. Everything has happen in one day, but people prefer to have some kind a time like day, date, year, century and time (under time, hours, minutes, seconds and so on and so on). Because you should know when you did that if you said in under one day it's kind a...”

“In many a case, the phrase ‘I’d like to get to know you better’ is a euphemism for ‘I want us to fuck.”

“You guys know each other?” I held my breath, my chest tight. Could this be it? Cover blown so fast? Ted stared at me. After several moments he said, “Yeah.” Ah, crap. He breathed out a heavy sigh. “We dated for a short time. It, uh, didn’t end well.” "Didn’t end well?” Bill snorted. “You two went out in a hail of bullets.”

“You’re fun to play with, you know,” Emmerson whispered, like a secret. “No one has ever told me that before,” he answered, just as low. “Good,” Emmerson said, lolling his head to the side and exposing his adorned neck. He glanced at him from under his lashes. “That means I get to keep you all to myself.” West was hypnotized, burning up, going crazy. This felt like a fantasy, and he didn’t want to wake up. Ever. In fact, if it was all going to be ripped away from him in an instant, he needed more. “You can keep me,” he said, meaning every word.”

“Don't compete with your friends to win a date with few beautiful girls, but compete to win few beautiful goals.”

“Finding out that you are not your lover’s only lover hurts, but not as much as discovering that you are the side chick … or the side dick.”

“Jesus Christ is such a bad date. If he took you out on a date to a nice restaurant, he’d keep referring to it as his “Last Supper”. What a downer. He only eats bread and only drinks red wine. If your parents told you never to discuss sex, politics or religion at the dinner table, you’d never be able to have a conversation with JC. The only thing he talks about is religion. God save us! Not any religion, just his religion. He’s fixated on it. It’s all he thinks about. He couldn’t tell you even one thing about Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism or Satanism.”

“I weave through LA's famous Farmers Market, which is really more of an outdoor food court, and now I'm a few minutes late. And the place is packed and there's still the uncertainty about where to meet when I look down and realize I'm wearing yellow pants. Yellow pants. Really? Sometimes I don't know what I'm thinking. They're rolled at the cuff and paired with a navy polo and it looks like maybe I just yacht my yacht, and I'm certain to come off as an asshole. I thin about canceling, or at least delaying so I can go home and change, but the effort that would require is unappealing, and this date is mostly for distraction. And when I round the last stall--someone selling enormous eggplants, more round than oblong, I see him, casually leaning against a wall, and something inside my body says there you are. 'There you are.' I don't understand them, these words, because they seem too deep and too soulful to attach to the Farmers Market, this Starbucks or that, a frozen yogurt place, or confusion over where to meet a stranger. They're straining to define a feeling of stunning comfort that drips over me, as if a water balloon burst over my head on the hottest of summer days. My knees don't buckle, my heart doesn't skip, but I'm awash in the warmth of a valium-like hug. Except I haven't taken a Valium. Not since the night of Lily's death. Yet here is this warm hug that makes me feel safe with this person, this Byron the maybe-poet, and I want it to stop. This--whatever this feeling is--can't be a real feeling, this can't be a tangible connection. This is just a man leaning against a stall that sells giant eggplants. But I no longer have time to worry about what this feeling is, whether I should or shouldn't be her, or should or should't be wearing yellow pants, because there are only maybe three perfect seconds where I see him and he has yet to spot me. Three perfect seconds to enjoy the calm that has so long eluded me. 'There you are.' And then he casually lifts his head and turns my way and uses one foot to push himself off the wall he is leaning agains. We lock eyes and he smiles with recognition and there's a disarming kindness to his face and suddenly I'm standing in front of him. 'There you are.' It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it and it's all I can do to steer the words in a more playfully casual direction so he isn't saddled with the importance I've placed on them. I think it comes off okay, but, as I know from my time at sea, sometimes big ships turn slowly. Byron chuckles and gives a little pump of his fist. 'YES! IT'S! ALL! HAPPENING! FOR! US!' I want to stop in my tracks, but I'm already leaning in for a hug, and he comes the rest of the way, and the warm embrace of seeing him standing there is now an actual embrace, and it is no less sincere. He must feel me gripping him tightly, because he asks, 'Is everything okay?' No. 'Yes, everything is great, it's just...' I play it back in my head what he said, the way in which he said it, and the enthusiasm which only a month had gone silent. 'You reminded me of someone is all.' 'Hopefully in a good way.' I smile but it takes just a minute to speak. 'In the best possible way.' I don't break the hug first, but maybe at the same time, this is a step. jenny will be proud. I look in his eyes, which I expect to be brown like Lily's but instead are deep blue like the waters lapping calmly against the outboard sides of 'Fishful Thinking.' 'Is frozen yogurt okay?' 'Frozen yogurt is perfect.”