Hacked By Your Girlfriend Quotes

His smile was quizzical and sincere as he said, “Sometimes you feel more like an adversary than a….” “Than a what?” “Than a girlfriend, a partner.” I thought about that for a moment, let it roll around in my head, realized—given what I knew about Alex’s past—it made quite a lot of sense. “With a girlfriend you’d need to give away some of your control. But with an adversary, it’s all about control.” “Don’t.” His voice was a growl, and held more than a hint of warning. “Don’t what?” “Don’t start psychoanalyzing me.” “I’m not.” I sighed, rubbed my forehead, and removed myself from his lap. I sat down heavily on the couch. “I’m just trying to figure out how to get in your pants without asking you any direct questions.

And don’t forget all those people in your head. They may have an influence over what you do and how, even though they are not physically there, e.g. your mentors, your girlfriend you can’t stop thinking about, all those internal critics, or your critical ‘internalised parents.

She studies my face for a second before sighing and adding, “I had an ex-boyfriend who used to tell me I only got opportunities handed to me because I’m a woman, not because I’m a good player. Because I…” she trails off and swallows. “Anyway. Once you hear the same thing so many times, you start to think it’s true.” My hand flexes at my side. I narrow my eyes. Irritation rips through me, and I have the urge to hurt someone really fucking bad. “You dated this guy?” I ask, and she nods. “I don’t know jack shit about relationships, but putting your girlfriend down because you don’t like watching her become more successful than you doesn’t seem like someone I would want to be around.” “We all do dumb shit when we’re young and in love. Play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Mine happened to be an asshole who liked to make me feel small while he was the one with the tiny dick.” I choke on a laugh. “How tiny are we talking?” Emerson holds up her fingers barely four inches apart. “That tiny.” “I need to send you a fruit basket and offer my condolences.” “I’m allergic to strawberries.” “Noted. You gonna give me a name?” I ask. “Nope,” she answers. “I have friends who could track him down. They could hack into his computer if you ever feel like retaliating.” “Who the hell are you friends with?” “Stop wanting to know things about me,” I say smugly. “I’m going to think you like me, Red.” “If your ego gets any bigger, there’s not going to be any room for us in the hallway.” “You could stand closer to me, if you want.