Situationship Quotes

Loving you was like jumping into the dark side of a pool, and drowning.

Being alone is better than being your whore.

I wanted you mine. I wanted me yours.

Dear Lover, Your laughter is warm rain, and you are the rainbow.

A ‘situationship’ is not a relationship. Excuses about limitations and obstacles are just a lack of courage and commitment. Those who truly want to be together, find a way to make it happen.

my heart when I stared at you beat irregularly and jagged

although we were laughing about the impossibility of our relationship, it still felt nice

what is a journey without someone who wanders if sometimes a pair is made of two

Shane and Eva were her writer children. And as their mama, she had a right to get to the bottom of their situationship.

You will be my souvenir in American summer, when all I can think about are Parisian springs.

Pina colada kisses and cocaine nips never lie, swear to me that this feeling is real.

Marianne, I am not a religious person, but I do sometimes believe God that made you for me

Det var svårt att avgöra om han njöt av att hon var besvärad eller om han faktiskt tyckte synd om henne.

We were together and not.

A situationship is basically when two people fuck without the talk—that all-important talk about where is this going,

I'm a serial situationship artist.

You got three kids, three deadbeat baby daddies. How in the hell are you going to be able to attend college while managing a broken home? her mother asked. A couple of her aunts and cousins asked that same question. Even a few fake ass friends dared to ask. But her grandmother did not. Nisey, her grandmother would call her, you got to make the most outta the sunshine even when it’s raining. Grandma, Denise remembered saying with a chuckle, there isn’t any sunshine when it rains. When the devil is beating his wife, there is, she would clap back. Grandma was the truth, a continuous lesson to be learned. And not once would she ever allow her Nisey to think her goals weren’t achievable. Grandma just wished her encouragement would lead her grandbaby into the arms of a good man. Ha! A good man? What did that even entail? God knew Denise had her fair share of so-called “good men.” Today’s good men were just as needy as most women, if not more so. And the ones who weren’t needy wanted to save you. She didn’t like that shit. She didn’t want that shit. What she wanted was a man who knew his role, not some grown-ass child who had less intelligence than her ten-year old son. She didn’t need another mouth to feed. She didn’t need another cheating-ass nigga with empty pockets and a small package. Love no longer existed. Not the way it had for her grandparents. Not even the way it had when she was in high school. Situationships, not relationships. Love was no longer good poetry. Today, love was nothing more than bad literature in a poorly written romance novel, sold at truck stops on Route 66, between don’t-want-a-nigga and don’t-need-a-nigga road.

It has a name, you know. It’s called parental alienation. It’s a type of abuse.

He was kind to animals. Hardworking and funny. Maybe a little much at first, but I think that was a shield.

He cleared his throat, made very intense, totally unnecessary eye contact with me, and started singing “More Than Words” by Extreme. My absolute favorite song of all time. I could not believe what I was hearing.

Your house is clean,” I said. “I don’t like how I feel when it’s not clean. It messes with me.

He deserved to be the best friend. He wasn’t a technicality.

solder. this is me and you together

Don't expect that someone will understand you at some point because there is no one to understand you in this world except you

Going with Doug to see a dick rock. If I disappear, I’m burying a body and I’ll be home by dinner.

I was nineteen. We were in your library, covered in sheets, seeking for something we both couldn’t have and seemingly, that’s where our love stemmed from. We make motions in men. I made moments in you. Moments I couldn’t have. Things which couldn’t make sense. I still hear the song in the background. The tiles of your bathroom. This wasn’t love. This was lust.

I wish that we could be flexible in our relationships, love, situationships, family life, etc. Flexibility is a thin line between compromising and freedom. May we all walk the line without feeling like we're losing ourselves.

Women should snoop. Snooping saves lives. Lets you know if you’re in the house of a serial killer or a married man or a guy with a closet full of Sharpies to draw dicks on trails.

situationship

How easy it is to idealize someone when your time together was fraught and short. We were never bored together, never grated on each other's nerves. It wasn't real.

How easy it is to idealize someone when your time together was fraught and short. We were never bored together, never grated on each other's nerves. It wasn't real.

Amor mío, no te quiero por vos ni por mí ni por los dos juntos, no te quiero porque la sangre me llame a quererte, te quiero porque no sos mía, porque estás del otro lado, ahí donde me invitas a saltar y no puedo dar el salto, porque en lo más profundo de la posesión no estás en mí, no te alcanzo, no paso de tu cuerpo, de tu risa, hay horas en que me atormenta que me ames (como te gusta usar el verbo amar, con qué cursilería lo vas dejando caer sobre los platos y las sábanas y los autobuses), me atormenta tu amor que no me sirve de puente porque un puente no se sos tiene de un solo lado, jamás Wright ni Le Corbusier van a hacer un puente sostenido de un solo lado, y no me mires con esos ojos de pájaro, para vos la operación del amor es tan sencilla, te curarás antes que yo y eso que me querés como yo no te quiero. Claro que te curarás, porque vivís en la salud, después de mí será cualquier otro, eso se cambia como los corpiños. Tan triste oyendo al cínico Horacio que quiere un amor pasaporte, amor pasamontañas, amor llave, amor revólver, amor que le dé los mil ojos de Argos, la ubicuidad, el silencio desde donde la música es posible, la raíz desde donde se podría empezar a tejer una lengua. Y es tonto porque todo eso duerme un poco en vos, no habría más que sumergirte en un vaso de agua como una flor japonesa y poco a poco empezarían a brotar los pétalos coloreados, se hincharían las formas combadas, crecería la hermosura. Dadora de infinito, yo no sé tomar, perdoname. Me estás alcanzando una manzana y yo he dejado los dientes en la mesa de luz. Stop, ya está bien así. También puedo ser grosero. Fijate. Pero fijate bien, porque no es gratuito. ¿Por qué stop? Por miedo de empezar las fabricaciones, son tan fáciles. Sacás una idea de ahí, un sentimiento del otro estante, los atás con ayuda de palabras, perras negras, y resulta que te quiero. Total parcial: te quiero. Total general: te amo.

Amor mío, no te quiero por vos ni por mí ni por los dos juntos, no te quiero porque la sangre me llame a quererte, te quiero porque no sos mía, porque estás del otro lado, ahí donde me invitas a saltar y no puedo dar el salto, porque en lo más profundo de la posesión no estás en mí, no te alcanzo, no paso de tu cuerpo, de tu risa, hay horas en que me atormenta que me ames (como te gusta usar el verbo amar, con qué cursilería lo vas dejando caer sobre los platos y las sábanas y los autobuses), me atormenta tu amor que no me sirve de puente porque un puente no se sostiene de un solo lado, jamás Wright ni Le Corbusier van a hacer un puente sostenido de un solo lado, y no me mires con esos ojos de pájaro, para vos la operación del amor es tan sencilla, te curarás antes que yo y eso que me querés como yo no te quiero. Claro que te curarás, porque vivís en la salud, después de mí será cualquier otro, eso se cambia como los corpiños. Tan triste oyendo al cínico Horacio que quiere un amor pasaporte, amor pasamontañas, amor llave, amor revólver, amor que le dé los mil ojos de Argos, la ubicuidad, el silencio desde donde la música es posible, la raíz desde donde se podría empezar a tejer una lengua. Y es tonto porque todo eso duerme un poco en vos, no habría más que sumergirte en un vaso de agua como una flor japonesa y poco a poco empezarían a brotar los pétalos coloreados, se hincharían las formas combadas, crecería la hermosura. Dadora de infinito, yo no sé tomar, perdoname. Me estás alcanzando una manzana y yo he dejado los dientes en la mesa de luz. Stop, ya está bien así. También puedo ser grosero. Fijate. Pero fijate bien, porque no es gratuito. ¿Por qué stop? Por miedo de empezar las fabricaciones, son tan fáciles. Sacás una idea de ahí, un sentimiento del otro estante, los atás con ayuda de palabras, perras negras, y resulta que te quiero. Total parcial: te quiero. Total general: te amo.

Y-you waited?” “I guess so.” “Why?” He smiles, twisting his mouth up at the sides, making my heart beat out of my chest before I even hear his words. “’Cause I know what good feels like.

Your face is like a beautiful leather handbag.

You’re less scared of life’s unpredictability when you know you won’t be facing it alone

Honestly, if being with Luke has taught me one thing, it’s that male virginity is way, way under appreciated. Teaching him and watching him discover new things is a whole different type of pleasure than anything I’ve experienced before. I feel it deeper than my skin. Deeper than my bones. Soul deep, that’s how I feel it.

I’m so happy right now.” He tries to keep his voice low, but it spikes up as pure joy seeps out of him. His excitement is infectious. It finds me and attacks every part of me. I start laughing softly, surprised at the fact that in all the times I’ve had sex, I never realized that sex was fun until I had it with Luke. It was hot and it felt good before, but it’s so different with him. It’s so much more than just physical. When I’m with him I feel different. I feel like - I don’t know how to explain it - I guess the best way to put it is that when I’m with Luke I don’t feel alone.

the kind of sex I’ve always wanted but I haven’t had until now. Like the kind of sex that resets you completely and changes your life.

Come get me I’m yours My mind My body All of me Yours I was a sad, confused little shit back then. I had no way of knowing that what he gave me that day was everything in life that’s ever been worth having.

I hate drama in my own life, always have, but the same can’t be said for other people’s drama.

find myself sinking into a warm place. A safe place. He runs a big hand through my hair, combing his fingers through it and nuzzling his face against the top of my head. After a while, I can’t tell if I’m feeling cool, or if he’s feeling warm. I can’t tell where I end and he starts. I sigh into his chest and feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into something that makes me feel like my bones are bendy, and nothing can hurt me. It slows my thoughts and makes me feel like all I’ve got to do is stay right here and everything will be okay.

It’s strange the way your first relationships – or situationships – can fuck with you just enough to linger for years. Our relationships with these stories can be even more toxic and damaging than the people who inspired them. Because some idiot made you feel worthless, theirs is the legacy you’ve chosen to let define you, to gauge your merit by. Every guy morphs into that guy, and every “challenge” is another chance to fix past failures – as if the validation of another person would ever be enough. And it takes years for you to realize that you will never be happy until you let this go. You can’t force self-worth, and you can’t rush emotional recovery, and you can’t hurry through breaking patterns you’ve kept in place to keep you safe.