Territorial Boyfriend Quotes

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Whatever the problem, it generally “presents” because the person has reached an inflection point in life. Do I turn left or right? Do I try to preserve the status quo or move into uncharted territory? (Be forewarned: therapy will always take you into uncharted territory, even if you choose to preserve the status quo.) But people don’t care about inflection points when they come for their first therapy session. Mostly, they just want relief. They want to tell you their stories, beginning with their presenting problem. So let me fill you in on the Boyfriend Incident.
Lori Gottlieb (Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed)
Johann is my himbo boyfriend! Grr, hiss, invasion of territory, bark bark bark. Maybe I should piss on him to make it clear.
Django Wexler (Everybody Wants to Rule the World Except Me (Dark Lord Davi, #2))
I think the insane one is your boyfriend, who just drove off and left his woman with a man who clearly expressed an interest in her. And, by the way, I wouldn’t give a shit if it was professional or not, I’d be marking my territory.” Layla’s hands went to her hips. “He trusts me. And what are you? A dog? Marking your territory. Do you piss on fire hydrants, too?” “He trusts you? That must be why he didn’t see your lie when you told him we’d never met before.” I took a step closer, right into her personal space. Instead of backing up, she tilted her head to look up at me. I fucking loved that she refused to back down. “There is no reason for him to know about us. You know why? Because there was never an us.” “Tell yourself whatever you need to.” “God, you are so arrogant.” I stroked her hair. “You changed your hair. I like it wavy like this. It’s sexy. But you’re covering up those beautiful freckles on your nose again.” She slapped my hand away. “Are you even listening to me?” “Yes. He trusts you. No us. I’m an arrogant asshole.” She growled at me. It was fucking adorable.
Vi Keeland (The Naked Truth)
I don’t know,” Mom said. “A boy in the house…” Her voice trailed off as though her thoughts were traveling into R-rated territory. “It’s not like we’re going to date him, Mom. Worse than seeing Tiff without her clothes, he may see her without her makeup.” “No way!” Tiffany screeched. “I don’t leave my room without makeup.” “Exactly. It would be kinda icky dating a guy who was living with us, who wouldn’t always see us at our best. So, getting involved with him isn’t even an issue.” Getting involved with one of his teammates, yes, but him, no.
Rachel Hawthorne (The Boyfriend League)
God was still smiling when he went into the guest room for his suitcase. He looked in the closet and under the perfectly made bed. He even pulled out the drawers of the one armoire on the far side of the room, but couldn’t find it. He was about to go back downstairs and ask Day when he turned down the long hall and walked into Day’s master bedroom. His suitcase was tucked neatly in the corner. He pulled it out but immediately knew it was empty. He looked in the first dresser but those were Day’s clothes. The second identical dresser was on the other side and God did a double take at his few toiletries that were neatly aligned on top. God rubbed his hand on the smooth surface and felt his heart clench at how domestic this looked. His and his dressers…really. God yanked off his T-shirt and threw it in the hamper along with Day’s items. He washed up quickly and went back to his dresser to put on a clean shirt. His mouth dropped when he pulled out the dresser drawer. His shirts were neatly folded and placed in an organized arrangement. God went through all five drawers. His underwear, socks, shirts, sweats, all arranged neatly and in its own place. He dropped down on the bed and thought for a minute. At first he was joking, but Day really was domesticating him. Was God ready for that? Sure he loved Day, he’d take a bullet for him, but was he ready to play house? He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger at the slight tension forming behind his eyes. God had been completely on his own since he was eighteen. He’d never shared space with anyone—hell, no one had ever wanted to. Fuck. Just last night Day was getting ready to fuck mini Justin Bieber, now he was cooking and cleaning for him and doing his damn laundry. He tried his best to shake off his anxiety. He never used the word love lightly. He meant what he’d said last night. God had only loved three people his entire life and for the past four years only one of them returned that love. Should he really tuck tail and run just because this was new territory? Hell no. All he did was unpack my suitcase. No big deal. He was just being hospitable. Damn sure is better than that seedy hotel. “My boyfriend’s just trying to make me comfortable.” He smirked and tried the term on his tongue again. “I have a boyfriend.” “Get your ass down here and stop overthinking shit! Dinner is getting cold!” Day yelled from the bottom of the stairs.
A.E. Via
There are certain men, Freud tells us in “On the Universal Tendency to Debasement in the Sphere of Love,” who are incapable of falling in love with a woman unless she is already involved with another man. A woman is uninteresting to such men in the absence of this formal, structural, symbolic condition – a condition that obviously harks back to the Oedipal triangle where, right from the outset, boys had a rival for their mothers’ affections in the form of their fathers (and/or siblings). Freud indicates that such men need to feel jealous of and have “gratifying impulses of rivalry and hostility” toward the other man, the man who was already involved with the woman before he came on the scene. Men who love in this way often end up having a whole series of triangular attachments, proving that it is not the particular women they fall for who are important but rather the structural situation itself: a situation including a woman who is already “taken” and the man who “possesses” her. Should the woman in question leave her boyfriend, fiancé, or husband, the triangle collapses and the woman is no longer of any interest to our lover, who can no longer fancy himself an interloper or invader of the other man’s territory. It is only the continued impossibility of the situation – the enduring hopelessness of ever possessing the other man’s woman – that keeps him interested; as soon as the obstacle to possession disappears, so too does his love for her. This is an obsessive configuration insofar as the obsessive’s desire is always for something impossible: to attain an unattainable status (e.g., perfection, omniscience, or immortality), to complete an uncompletable project, or to possess what he cannot possess. In saying that the obsessive is characterized by an impossible desire, Lacan goes so far as to add that his desire is for impossibility itself. A relationship with a woman is not in and of itself appealing or gratifying enough to our obsessive: it must be mediated by a living, breathing, third party who renders his quest unrealizable, allowing him to go on dreaming “the impossible dream” (as the Broadway musical Man of La Mancha put it). This third party may be no older than our lover, even if older men are the most enjoyable targets of his rage and shenanigans. The obsessive is most intrigued when the Other man is clearly designated, in socially recognizable linguistic terms of the historical era and culture, as having an official status as a boyfriend, lover, partner, fiancé, husband, or whatever the other terms of the time and place may be (for example, mignon, favori, “favorite,” or “servant”). Yet even when the third party simply is someone who occasionally hangs around the woman (actually or virtually), having some sort of nebulous, vague, undefined relationship with her, our obsessive can often imagine that he is far more substantial than he appears to be or than she lets on – that is, that he is a genuine father-like rival. Although it may appear outwardly that our lover is captivated by another man’s woman, it is the Other man himself who is of libidinal centrality to him – for it is the obsessive’s competition with this Other man that gets his juices flowing, so to speak, that gets him angry or stirred up, feeling, by turns, inferior or superior to him. Consciously he believes that it is the Other man’s woman who fascinates him; unconsciously it is the battle with the Other man that fascinates him.
Bruce Fink (Lacan on Love: An Exploration of Lacan's Seminar VIII, Transference)