install
  1. i.
    a girl’s feet will tangle yours under sheets you just bought for a night like this. the price tag is still glued to the plastic wrapping stuffed underneath the bed. her feet are frigid and feel like frostbite against your legs when you fall asleep, but they’re like mittens roasted over a fire when the sun blinks through the curtains.

    ii.
    a girl’s legs are taut and thick. they’re flexible and enclose you in a straightjacket at 2 am when they knot around your waist and pull you just a little closer. if she’s still sleeping, it’s even better.

    iii.
    her thighs will make you forget about your calculus homework and your french exam. they will make you forget about your father’s affair or your best friend’s disorders. they will make you forget your name and they will make you forget who you are without them. hold them as tight as you can. i promise, she loves it.

    iv.
    when you were in fourth grade, they taught you stop, drop, and roll at the sign of a fire. when you’re in her bedroom on the second floor, her quivering hips will trick-start a similar fire in your teeth, and you’re going to want to listen to your fourth grade teacher, but don’t. if you stop, whatever it may be that you’re doing, she might kill you.

    v.
    so in health class, they’re supposed to teach you that your hands will never fit somewhere like they will on a girl’s waist. it doesn’t matter if it’s wide and soft, or small and hard. your hands will adapt to her waist like the heart to your blood. they’ll feel as natural as fingers on an instrument.

    vi.
    sometimes you can see her ribs; sometimes you can’t. they flicker like an old grainy movie under her skin, and they feel like sharp magma in your palms. they’re structure — they protect her. hold her there if you want her to feel like this house isn’t caving in on herself.

    vii.
    her chest. promise her you’d never want anything more or anything less. if you don’t mean it, stop reading, and find someone else.

    viii.
    taste her collarbone. dip in the crevices and valleys and plant trees at the bottom. root down, cherish the nature, and never ever underestimate a girl’s collarbones. they’re a place to sleep when its -11 outside. write scripts on her collarbone. they are forever.

    ix.
    if you don’t know blueprints to her neck with your eyes closed from tracing it with your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. learn it. memorize it. you better know her pulse like counting with your dominant hand. kiss it like it’s her mouth. her neck will change over time, yes. but make sure you can change with it.

    x.
    kiss her before she brushes her teeth. make fun of her morning breath. kiss her after, and make fun of the flavor of her toothpaste. kiss her when she’s angry and throwing the vase your mother bought her, and kiss her when she can’t stand and she bubbles over with tears like hot water. kiss her if she’s laughing and tell her it’s because she makes you happy. kiss her if she won’t stop talking because you want to taste her voice. kiss her when she isn’t talking because you miss it. kiss her in the shower and kiss her everywhere. if it’s raining, kiss her, and kiss her again when she calls you a cliche. kiss her in public because you want them all to know, and kiss her in private because you don’t need them to either. god, just kiss her on the mouth. nothing else matters. just fucking kiss her.

  2. yolesoteldo:

    Dear Cutie-Pie,

    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:

    You.

    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,

    Daddy

    ————————————————————————————————————————-

    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

    (via thebeatenpath)

  3. There’s no need for heartbreak warfare. It’s called ‘I love you’ — ‘I love you too’. ‘I need more love’ — ‘You got more love’, and you can get through life like that. Shouldn’t you just, on days where you want more love, be like ‘I had a bad dream that you were sleeping around, it’s really irrational, but just love me extra today’. Why can’t we just have this thing where you just say ‘Just love me extra today’. If I was with somebody and they said ‘Love me extra today’, I would love them extra forever.
  4. I breathe easier
    with the weight of your body
    lying on my chest.
  5. Our intimate relationship—the pairing of one human being with another—is the greatest vehicle for emotional and spiritual growth life affords us. Within its crucible, every old wound is revisited, every certainty is challenged, every fine quality of our being is forced to expand beyond our perceived limits. If we do it right, we are inevitably transformed into more loving and wise human beings.