Male And Female Best Friend Quotes

True best friends never fail on understanding, forgiving, and being there for one another no matter what situation that they might be in or having with one another because of the fact of that no matter if it’s two males or females love should always be there as if brothers or sisters if their what we call best friends.

V rolled the Aquafina bottle between his palms. "How long have you wanted to ask me the question? About the gay thing." "For a while." "Afraid of what I'd say?" "Nope, because it doesn't matter to me one way or the other. I'm tight with you whether you like males or females or both." V looked into his best friend's eyes and realized… yeah, Butch wasn't going to judge him. They were cool no matter what. With a curse, V rubbed the center of his chest and blinked. He never cried but he felt as if he could at this moment.

Best (male-female) friends hardly differ from lovers, but not too many lovers are best friends. It's just ironical that you are in love and want to spend the rest of your life with someone who is not good enough to be your best friend.

A male-female close-friendship hardly differs from a relationship; it takes "relating" to be friends. But sadly, not every relationship has friendship in it. It's just ironical that two people who are not good enough to be best friends are in love and want to spend the rest of their lives together.

(Background: Morgan is a female warrior looking for a fight. Adhémar is your garden variety male.) A man near the door leered at her. Adhémar immediately stepped in front of her, but Morgan pushed him aside. She looked at the man and smiled pleasantly. Ah, something to take her mind off her coming journey. "Did you say something?" she asked. "Aye," he said, "I asked it you were occupied tonight, but I can see you have a collection of lads here to keep you busy—" Adhémar apparently couldn't control his chivalry. He took the man by the front of the shirt and threw him out the door. The man crawled to his feet and started bellowing. Adhémar planted his fist into the man's face. The stranger slumped to the ground, senseless. Morgan glared at Adhémar. "You owe me a brawl," she said. "What?" he asked incredulously. "A brawl," Morgan said. "And it had best be a good one." "With me?" he asked, blinking in surprise. "I'd prefer someone with more skill, that I might not sleep through it, but you'll do." Paien laughed out loud and pulled him away. "Adhémar, my friend, you cannot win this one. Next time, allow Morgan her little pleasures. She cannot help the attention her face attracts, and thus she has opportunities to teach ignorant men manners. In truth, it is a service she offers, bettering our kind wherever she goes.

Jonas Wergeland's first stroke of genius, albeit unbeknownst to himself, was to choose a girl as his best friend. It was Nefertiti who taught him that women are, first and foremost, teachers then mistresses - and above all that when you come right down to it, the female is a very different and, more o the point, a much more fascinating creature than the male.

Diamonds aren’t EVERY girl’s best friend… Male penguins propose to females by giving them a pebble. Gentoo Penguins look for the smoothest, shiniest pebble to present to the female he chooses. If she accepts his proposal, she will place the pebble in her nest as a symbol of accepting him as her mate.

Think back, she asks straight women, to the first time you betrayed your best friend for male attention. Was that natural? Inevitable? Or something demanded of you by the infrastructure of male domination, which fears most of all the absence of female desire, and with it the end of men’s presumed access to women’s bodies, labor, minds, hearts?

Social Eights are more loyal, more overtly friendly, and less aggressive. They are helpful Eights—people who are nurturing, protective, and concerned with the injustices that happen to people. Male Social Eights can look like Type Nines, and female Social Eights may resemble Type Twos. However, these Eights can be distinguished from Nines and Twos because they act in more direct, powerful ways, engage more readily in conflict, and express more power and control in seeking to protect and support other people.

There are only 24 hours in a day. The average man has to sleep about 8 hours. And work for 8 hours. That leaves 8 hours to run some errands, drive to and from work, eat, and have some spare time. And in that little bit of spare time, a man has to figure out how to get the one thing he likes more than anything else: sex. So when a man has to choose whether or not he will hang out with a female and spend any time, money or attention on her, the question of whether the resources he spent will result in sex plays a very big factor. If your male "friend" chooses to spend his time and money on you, it's because he thinks there is a chance it might pay off in sex at some point. If he hangs out with you instead of with some other female, it's because he thinks you are his best bet to getting sex. The more likely there will be sex, the more willing he is to spend his little bit of free time with you. If he thinks his chances of having sex are higher with a different female, he will spent more time, money and attention on her. That's just common sense, and using his limited resources wisely.

How different it could all have been … Taylor Swift was never meant to be a singer-songwriter; she was supposed to become a stockbroker. Her parents even chose her Christian name with a business path in mind. Her mother, Andrea, selected a gender-neutral name for her baby girl so that when she grew up and applied for jobs in the male-dominated finance industry no one would know if she were male or female. It was a plan that came from a loving place, but it was not one that would ever be realised. Instead, millions and millions of fans across the world would know exactly which gender Andrea’s firstborn was, without ever meeting her. In Taylor’s track ‘The Best Day’, which touchingly evokes a childhood full of wonder, she sings of her ‘excellent’ father whose ‘strength is making me stronger’. That excellent father is Scott Kingsley Swift, who studied business at the University of Delaware. He lived in the Brown residence hall. There, he made lots of friends, one of whom, Michael DiMuzio, would later cross paths with Taylor professionally. Scott graduated with a first-class degree and set about building his career in similarly impressive style. Perhaps a knack for business is in the blood: his father and grandfather also worked in finance. Scott set up his own investment-banking firm called the Swift

The female is uniformly more easily hypnotised than the male throughout the animal world, and it may be seen from the following how closely hypnotic phenomena are related to the most ordinary events. I have already described, in discussing female sympathy, how easy it is for laughter or tears to be induced in females. How impressed she is by everything in the newspapers! What a martyr she is to the silliest superstitions! How eagerly she tries every remedy recommended by her friends! From their complete inability to attain personal truth, to be honest about themselves — the hysterical never think for themselves, they want other people to think about them, they want to arouse the interest of others — it follows that the hysterical are the best mediums for hypnotic purposes. But any one who allows him or herself to be hypnotised is doing the most immoral thing possible. It is yielding to complete slavery; it is a renunciation of the will and consciousness; it means allowing another person to do what he likes with the subject. Hypnosis shows how all possibility of truth depends upon the wish to be truthful, but it must be the real wish of the person concerned: when a hypnotised person is told to do something, he does it when he comes out of the trance, and if asked his reasons will give a plausible motive on the spot, not only before others, but he will justify his action to himself by quite fanciful reasons. All women can be hypnotised and like being hypnotised, but this proclivity is exaggerated in hysterical women.

Most of my friends put their preferred pronoun in their Instagram bios—he/she, him/her, they/their—but I respond to any and all of them. I like to think of it as collecting pronouns: the more I get, the more fun I’m having. To get the obvious out of the way, because that’s apparently important to people, I think of myself as post-gender. I was trying to figure out how to explain that because sometimes it’s a paragraph and sometimes it’s a term paper depending on who I’m talking to, and I have no idea who will be reading this in the aftermath. Then I noticed that one of my fellow passengers has a cat with him, and that’s perfect. When you visit a friend and find they have a cat, you just see it as a cat in all its pure catness, it doesn’t require further definition. You’ll probably get a name, and if you ask, whether it was born male or female, but even after you have that information you still don’t think of it any differently. It’s not a He-Cat or a She-Cat or a They-Cat. It’s just a cat. And unless the cat’s name has any gender-specific connotations you’ll probably forget pretty fast which gender it was born into. My name is Theo, and by that logic, I am a cat. What I was or was not born into has nothing to do with how I see myself. It’s not about going from one gender to another, or suggesting that they don’t exist. Some of my friends say that the moment you talk about gender you invalidate the conversation because you’re accepting the limits of outmoded paradigms, but I’m not sure I agree with that. I just think gender shouldn’t matter. If you’re a man, aren’t there moments when you feel more female, like when you’re listening to music, or your cheek is being gently stroked, or you see a spectacularly handsome man walk into the room? If you’re a woman, aren’t there moments when you feel more male, when you have to be strong in the face of conflict, or stand behind your opinion, or when a spectacularly beautiful woman walks into the room? Well, in those moments, you are all of those things, so why deny that part of yourself? For me, it’s not about being binary or non-binary. It’s about moving the needle to the center of the dial and accepting all definitions as equally true while remaining free to shift in emphasis from moment to moment. It’s about being a Person, not a She-Person or a He-Person or a They-Person. (...) When you go into a clothing store, you don’t just go to the “one size fits all” rack. You look for clothes that fit your waist, hips, legs, chest, and neck, clothes that complement your form and shape, and reflect not just how you see yourself but how you want to be seen by others. If it’s still not quite right, and you can afford it, you get the clothes tailored to fit exactly who you are. That’s what I’m doing. Post-gender is one term for it. Another might be tailored gender. Maybe bespoke gender. But definitely not one-size-fits-all. The world doesn’t get to decide what best fits who I am and how I choose to be seen. I do.

Having a good feel up there, Gareth? Sure are taking a damned long time about it!" "Can't blame him. Tisn't every day that a man gets to grope a stone horse!" "Wish I was hung half so well!" "You mean you aren't, Chilcot?" "Lord Gareth is!" cried Tess. "Why, 'e's built foiner than any stallion Oi've ever seen, stone or not!" Drunken laughter rang out, both male and female, and yet another bottle of Irish whiskey made its way among the shadowy figures who stood, or rather swayed, beneath poor Henry on his about-to-be-disgraced charger. "Hey Gareth!  Didn't know yer pref'rences ran to — hic! — bestiality!  What else haven't you tol' us about yershelf, eh?" "Shut up down there, you bacon-brains," Gareth said. "D'you want to wake up the whole damned village?"  But he was as foxed as the rest of them, and no one took him seriously. "Hic! — c'mon, Gareth, it can't take you more than five minutes to — hic! — paint its bollocks blue!" "This is not blue, it's purple. Royal purple. As befits its royal rider." Chilcot gave a credible imitation of a neighing stallion. Cokeham snorted, horselike, and clutched his stomach as he tried to contain his laughter. But the Irish whiskey was too much for him, and, losing his balance, he fell face‑first into the damp grass, still guffawing and holding his side. "Oh!  Oh, I fear I shall cast up my accounts if this keeps up ... oh, dear God...." Without missing a beat, Gareth dipped his brush in the paint and flicked it over the bewigged and powdered heads of his friends below. Howls pierced the night as he calmly went back to his task. "A plague on you, Gareth! — hic — you've jesht ruined my best wig!" "To hell with your damned wig, Hugh, look what he just did to my coat!" Chilcot gave another equine whicker, tucked his chin, and with his beautifully turned out leg began pawing the ground. "Shhhh‑h‑h‑h‑h‑h‑h!" "Oh ... oh, I do feel sick...." "Keep it up, you pillocks, and I shall dump the entire bucket on your heads," Gareth called down from above.

The 68-page first issue of Calling All Girls contained four comic stories—an 8-pager on Queen Elizabeth (the mother of the current queen); a 9-pager on famed author Osa Johnson, “the famed jungle adventuress,” as the story so quaintly dubbed her; a fictional 7-pager on Judy Wing, Air Hostess No. 1 (aviation themes were huge in the early years of comics, just as they were in all of popular culture); and a fictional 8-pager on the teenage adventures of the Yorktown Younger Set, which “lives in a town like yours. The other half of the first issue contained text stories of a wide variety, with an astonishing amount of reading material for the teen girl’s dime. There was a 4-page story devoted to Connie Martin, a Nancy Drew knockoff; a 4-pager devoted to circus girls; a 3-pager on Gloria Jean herself; a 3-pager by publisher George Hecht on “13 ways girls can help in the national defense”; a 2-pager on manners; a 3-pager by best-selling sports novelist John R. Tunis on women in sports; a 2-pager on grooming; a 4-pager on a fictional female boater; a 2-pager on films; a 2-pager on fashion, with delightful drawings; a page on fashion accessories; and a 2-pager on cooking, by the famed food writer Cecily Brownstone. This issue gave girls an awful lot of reading, some of it inspirational and showing they could be more than “just a girl,” as the boys in Tubby’s clubhouse used to call Little Lulu and her friends a decade later in their Dell Comics adventures. The most intriguing aspect of Calling All Girls is that it approached schoolgirls not as boy-crazy or male-dependent, but as interesting individuals in their own right. The ensuing issues of Calling All Girls expanded on this theme. This was definitely a mini “feminist manifesto” for teens!

The third most respected rank of the pack is of teachers. Sigma wolves teach the wolf pups about hunting and other important survival tricks. They are the mind of the pack. You are intelligent and wise. You are certainly brainier than brawny. You always understand and guide your friends in a way best for ◆◆◆ DELTA 451 to 600 Delta wolves, rank at the fourth position in a pack not because they are less capable, but because these are the lone wolves of the pack and value their freedom. They perform their duty to the pack as messengers to the Beta wolves protecting the pack from outer threat. You are a free bird and don’t like to be held responsible. You are fun and relaxed. You can also be careless, but at the end of the day you are always there for people whenever they need you. ◆◆◆ OMEGA 601 to 750 Omega wolves are the lowest ranking wolves. They take care of the wolf pups and nurture them. The male and female omega wolves are the last to eat the prey after the hunt. You have a caring and helpful nature. You are kind to people without asking anything in return. People might not know your value, but you do. So you have found your position

Donkey had spoken to and petted dozens of dogs she'd seen jogging along the road or poking around for food at the edge of the Waters; some of them were traveling dogs, males chasing the scent of females in heat, while others had mysterious agendas they did not share. The cats she met were usually more elusive, hiding out and hunting until Molly saw the signs of their presence and trapped them and took them home and saved their lives all by herself. But dogs were valued in a town that knew them as man's best friend, and usually the loose dogs who appeared on Lovers Road were reunited with their owners or else were taken to the makeshift shelter Smiley Smith's mother had set up, where they were quickly adopted.

But when we get these partnerships, all these “best friends” we married don’t text us back like our female best friends do. They can’t wipe a counter to save their lives. Don’t know how to vacuum. And their learned helplessness becomes the punch line to all our jokes. Memes lampoon this male inability to function. A TikTok video shows the face of an exasperated wife on the phone with her husband, who is presumably wandering the grocery store looking for ketchup, and she’s lip-syncing to the song from Hamilton, “Look at where you are. Look at where you started. The fact that you’re alive right now is a miracle.” Hilarious. These are the good men.