Periods Pampering Quotes

I decided to text Ellie to let her know I was staying at Ben’s. Me: Bad PMS. And a hangover. He’s pampering me so gonna stay here :) Ellie: Lucky girl. Guys I’ve dated usually want anal sex when I’m on my period. He’s a keeper!

I believe there's no such thing as normal, only average and I'd much rather be abnormal then lavished. Is it so deplorable to live like a savage? For some it may seem horrible but to me it feels like an advantage. Cause nature is my storage and the earth is my canvass. I'm hoarding the truth and sharing my standards. But nothings rhetorical because I don't have all the answers. Maybe I'm just ordinary and your above the standard because I can't see anything extraordinary in being pampered. Even if I'm purportedly being hampered or metaphorically a damper, periodically a tramper. I'm still inexorably going to transfer thoughts with an importable laughter like a mad man captured in a portable disaster that only knows the way down the corporate ladder. But in order to matter you may need an assortment of matter that unfortunately doesn't matter. Fuck being normal or subordinately average, I'm inordinately going to salvage a historical palace as I stubbornly traverse upon this flat earth in search of omnipotent caverns.

Being thoroughly a man, one whose nature was rooted in competition, Zachary had experienced jealousy before. But nothing like this. Not this mixture of rage and alarm that shredded his insides. He was no idiot—he had seen the way Holly was looking at Ravenhill in the ballroom, and he had understood it all too well. They were cut from the same cloth, and they shared a past that he'd had no part of. There were bonds between them, memories, and even more, the comfort of knowing exactly what to expect from each other. All of a sudden Zachary hated Ravenhill with an intensity that approached fear. Ravenhill was everything he was not… everything he could never be. If only this were a more primitive time, the period of history when simple brute force overrode all else and a man could have what he wanted merely by staking his claim. That was how most of these damned bluebloods had originated, in fact. They were the watered-down, inbred descendents of warriors who had earned their status through battle and blood. Generations of privilege and ease had tamed them, softened and cultured them. Now these pampered aristocrats could afford to look down their noses at a man who probably resembled their revered ancestors more than they themselves did. That was his problem, Zachary realized. He had been born a few centuries too late. Instead of having to mince and prance his way into a society that was clearly too rarefied for him, he should have been able to dominate… fight… conquer. As Zachary had seen Holly leave the ballroom, her small hand tucked against Ravenhill's arm, it had required all his will to appear collected. He had nearly trembled with the urge to snatch Holly into his arms and carry her away like a barbarian. For a moment, the rational part of his brain had commanded him to let Holly go without a struggle. She had never been his to lose. Let her make the right decisions for herself, the comfortable decisions. Let her find the peace she deserved. The hell I will, he had thought savagely. He had followed the pair, intent as a prowling tiger, letting nothing stand in the way of what he wanted. And now he found Holly sitting here alone in the garden, looking dazed and dreamy, and he wanted to shake her until her hair cascaded loose and her teeth rattled.