Wives And Girlfriends Quotes

If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.

Here's to our wives and girlfriends...may they never meet!

I will not fall for any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, commitment phobics, people with girlfriends or wives, misogynists, megalomanics, chauvists, emotional fuckwits or freeloaders, perverts.

Amy [Poehler] made it clear that she wasn’t there to be cute. She wasn’t there to play wives and girlfriends in the boys’ scenes. She was there to do what she wanted to do and she did not fucking care if you like it.

If you're going to try, go all the way. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs and maybe your mind.

Amy Poehler was new to SNL and we were all crowded into the seventeenth-floor writers' room, waiting for the Wednesday night read-through to start. [...] Amy was in the middle of some such nonsense with Seth Meyers across the table, and she did something vulgar as a joke. I can't remember what it was exactly, except it was dirty and loud and "unladylike", Jimmy Fallon [...] turned to her and in a faux-squeamish voice said, "Stop that! It's not cute! I don't like it." Amy dropped what she was doing, went black in the eyes for a second, and wheeled around on him. "I don't fucking care if you like it." Jimmy was visibly startled. Amy went right back to enjoying her ridiculous bit. With that exchange, a cosmic shift took place. Amy made it clear that she wasn't there to be cute. She wasn't there to play wives and girlfriends in the boys' scenes. She was there to do what she wanted to do and she did not fucking care if you like it.

How many wives have told their husbands, “I’m fine,” when they really mean, “I want to cut your balls off with a butcher knife”? How many men have told their girlfriends, “You look fine,” when they really mean, “You need to go back to the gym and work out—a lot.” It’s the universal way of saying we’re just peachy—when we’re really anything but.

A relationship is likely to last way longer, if each partner convinces or has convinced themselves that they do not deserve their partner, even if that is not true.

Some of us were brought into this troubled world primarily or only to increase our fathers’ chances of not being left by our mothers, or vice versa.

Eleanor was an orphan at the age of 10. She went to live with her maternal Grandma Hall, a bitter and biblically strict woman who nonetheless struggled to control her children. Eleanor had to endure some uncles who drank to excess and possibly abused her. For protection, her grandmother or an aunt installed three heavy locks on Eleanor’s bedroom door. A girlfriend who slept over asked Eleanor about the locks. She said they were “to keep my uncles out.

I wonder if it is possible to have two boyfriends. I mean, times are changing. Relationships are more complicated. In France men always have mistresses and wives and so on. Henri probably has two girlfriends. He would laugh if you told him you just had one. He would say, 'C'est tres, tres tragique.'

Some people will hate you for not loving them.

Here was something I already knew to be true about myself: Just as there are some wives who will occasionally need a break from their husbands in order to visit a spa for the weekend with their girlfriends, I will always be the sort of wife who occasionally needs a break from her husband in order to visit Cambodia. Just for a few days!

When you love someone, you end up caring about each and every person they love. When you hate someone, you end up caring about every single person who hates them.

I have seen many cases like N. during the five years I've been in practice. I sometimes picture these unfortunates as men and women being pecked to death by predatory birds. The birds are invisible - at least until a psychiatrist who is good, or lucky, or both, sprays them with his version of Luminol and shines the right light on them - but they are nevertheless very real. The wonder is that so many OCDs manage to live productive lives, just the same. They work, they eat (often not enough or too much, it's true), they go to movies, they make love to their girlfriends and boyfriends, their wives and husbands . . . and all the time those birds are there, clinging to them and pecking away little bits of flesh.

Nothing humbles a beautiful woman better than not being wanted by a man whose girlfriend or wife is ugly (or not as beautiful as she is).

The fact that the person who you are sleeping with is also sleeping with another person or other people does not necessarily mean that he or she does not love you. And the fact that you are the only person who someone is sleeping with does not necessarily mean that he or she loves you.

r o l l t h e d i c e if you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t even start. if you’re going to try, go all the way. this could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs and maybe your mind. go all the way. it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days. it could mean freezing on a park bench. it could mean jail, it could mean derision, mockery, isolation. isolation is the gift, all the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. and you’ll do it despite rejection and the worst odds and it will be better than anything else you can imagine. if you’re going to try, go all the way. there is no other feeling like that. you will be alone with the gods and the nights will flame with fire. do it, do it, do it. do it. all the way all the way. you will ride life straight to perfect laughter, its the only good fight there is.

Most women sell sex; most of them just don’t take cash (nor do they each sell to more than one ‘client’ at a time).

With that exchange, a cosmic shift took place. Amy made it clear that she wasn’t there to be cute. She wasn’t there to play wives and girlfriends in the boys’ scenes. She was there to do what she wanted to do and she did not fucking care if you like it.

The fact that you do not trust your spouse or lover doesn’t necessarily mean that they are cheating on you; and the fact that you do doesn’t necessarily mean that they aren’t.

Judges and juries are notoriously brutal on violent female offenders, a category to which I belong without question. Nature abhors a vacuum; jurisprudence hates a violent woman. We can forgive any number of men murdering their wives and girlfriends. But we have a hard time extending the same compassion to women who kill their husbands and boyfriends, even though women have many more reasons to be driven to it. Culture refuses to see violence in women, and the law nurtures a special loathing for violent women.

The wonder is that so many OCDs manage to live productive lives, just the same. They work, they eat (often not enough or too much, it's true), they go to the movies, they make love to their girlfriends and boyfriends, their wives and husbands... and all the time those birds are there, clinging to them and pecking away little bits of flesh.

Truth: Rape does indeed happen between girlfriend and boyfriend, husband and wife. Men who force their girlfriends or wives into having sex are committing rape, period. The laws are blurry, and in some countries marital rape is legal. But it still is rape.

I think of the emptiness of outer space, and the men in their little pods going up there alone, wives and girlfriends left behind. I think of Abel and me lying on the grass, looking up at the stars, and how great that was, but, still, I was always waiting for him to turn his head. To look at me

Love may be blind but jealousy has 20-20 vision.

Prime Minister: Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspision love actually is all around.

Fine’s a funny word, don’t you think? I don’t think there’s another like it in the English language that says so much while actually saying so little. How many wives have told their husbands, “I’m fine,” when they really mean, “I want to cut your balls off with a butcher knife”? How many men have told their girlfriends, “You look fine,” when they really mean, “You need to go back to the gym and work out—a lot.” It’s the universal way of saying we’re just peachy—when we’re really anything but.

I am merely noting that the creation of native prostitutes to service foreign privates is an inevitable outcome of a war of occupation, one of those nasty little side effects of defending freedom that all the wives, sisters, girlfriends, mothers, pastors, and politicians in Smallville, USA, pretend to ignore behind waxed and buffed walls of teeth as they welcome their soldiers home, ready to treat any unmentionable afflictions with the penicillin of American goodness.

I have been told more than once in fact that one of the more trying things about learning to live with the Germans after the war was having to watch them return with their wives and girlfriends to show off the places they had helped to ruin.

Some people are each holding on to a lover of theirs who no longer loves them and/or who they no longer love, only because they do not want to have a reason or another reason to be jealous of the person who would eventually be their lover if they let go of them.

Because he has finally realized that it is it and not him that is loved by the woman he loves, many a man is jealous of his own car, house, wardrobe, or salary.

There would definitely be way fewer instances of cheating, if the average couple did not have sex only when the woman feels like it.

Napoleon said men will die for bits of ribbon pinned to their chests, but the General understands that even more men will die for a man who remembered their names, as he does theirs. When he inspects them, he walks among them, eats with them, calls them by their names and asks about wives, children, girlfriends, hometowns. All anyone ever wants is to be recognized and remembered. Neither is possible without the other. This desire drives these busboys, waiters, janitors, gardeners, mechanics, night guards, and welfare beneficiaries to save enough money to buy themselves uniforms, boots, and guns, to want to be men again.

I have met convicted child molesters before. They don't waer badges or brands or tattoos announcing their vice. It's hidden under a soft, grandfatherly smile; it's tucked in the pocket of a buttoned down shirt. They look the rest of us, and that's what makes it so frightening - to know that these beasts move among us, and we are none the wisest. They have girlfriends and wives who have loved them, unaware.

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around.

To ask a man whether or not he has a girlfriend is to talk about his sex life. If you disagree with that, then how in the name of God do you differentiate between a man’s girlfriend and a girl that is a friend to the man?

We can forgive any number of men murdering their wives and girlfriends. But we have a hard time extending the same compassion to women who kill their husbands and boyfriends, even though women have many more reasons to be driven to it. Culture refuses to see violence in women, and the law nurtures a special loathing for violent women.

I was not prepared to hear over and over from men how the women—the mothers, sisters, girlfriends, wives—in their lives are constantly criticizing them for not being open and vulnerable and intimate, all the while they are standing in front of that cramped wizard closet where their men are huddled inside, adjusting the curtain and making sure no one sees in and no one gets out. There was a moment when I was driving home from an interview with a small group of men and thought, Holy shit. I am the patriarchy.

The way that some guys kiss their long-term girlfriends or wives is an absolute travesty. A kiss should never be routine, like saying hello or good-bye. Kissing the person you love should be sign language for the soul. It should say I love you, I need you, and I’m happy to see you or sorry to see you go. If you can’t kiss like that, you should really keep your fucking lips to yourself” Excerpt From: Prescott, R.J. “The Aftermath.” Forever, 2016-08-02T04:00:00+00:00. iBooks. This material may be protected by copyright.

There were friends all over London who would welcome his eagerly to their homes, who would throw open their guest rooms and their fridges, eager to condole and to help. The price of all of those comfortable beds and home-cooked meals, however, would be to sit at kitchen tables, once the clean-pajamaed children were in bed, and relive the filthy final battle with Charlotte, submitting to the outraged sympathy and pity of his friends' girlfriends and wives. To this he preferred grim solitude, a Pot Noodle and a sleeping bag.

The reasonableness of others and my own desire for tranquility got on my nerves. The breath built up in my throat, ready to vibrate with words of rage. I felt the need to quarrel, and in fact I quarreled first with our male friends, then with their wives or girlfriends, and finally I went on to clash with anyone, male or female, who tried to help me accept what was happening to my life.

Friend I can deal with. Friend. Girlfriend. Sweetheart. Fiancée. (...) Wife, even. I think I can deal with wife. Wives are at home, that's the good thing about them. They're at home, they're silent (...) Lover, I cannot deal with. Lover is different.

Your relationship or marriage is dead or dying, if you almost always have to remind your partner to miss you (and/or they almost always have to remind you to miss them).

Some people’s self-esteem was secretly improved when they discovered that their then-lovers had killed themselves over them.

What you know about women,’ replied Maude, ‘could be written in large font on the back of a postage stamp and there’d still be room for the Lord’s Prayer. For all your great flirtations and seductions, for all your tarts, whores, girlfriends and wives, you’ve really learned nothing about us over the years, have you?

I have been told more than once that one of the more trying things about learning to live with the Germans after the war was having to watch them return with their wives and girlfriends to show off the places they had helped to ruin.

if you are going to try, go all the way.. Otherwise, don’t even start.. If you are going to try, go all the way.. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. Go all the way.. It could mean not eating for three or four days.. It could mean freezing on a park bench.. It could mean jail, derision, mockery, isolation.. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test for endurance, of how much you really want to do it.. And you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine.. if you are going to try, go all the way.. there’s no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods and the nights will flame with fire. Do it, do it , do it.. all the way .. all the way.. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is ….

roll the dice if you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t get into it. if you’re going to try, go all the way. this could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs and maybe your mind. go all the way. it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days. it could mean freezing on a park bench. it could mean jail, alcoholism, it could mean derision, mockery, isolation.

The only difference between having an affair here and having an affair there was that the American men would always ended up losing half of his estates over a woman he was infatuated just as much as the next tramp who would come his way, while Japanese men would only earn more respect from their subordinates through the possession of much younger women, as a sign of prowess and affluence, while their wives at home, as if there were rule books distributed nationally on the “proper” marriage etiquette for all young Japanese women to read before they enter into the matrimony, would turn a blind eye on their disloyalty quietly.

These are lines from my asteroid-impact novel, Regolith: Just because there are no laws against stupidity doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be punished. I haven’t faced rejection this brutal since I was single. He smelled trouble like a fart in the shower. If this was a kiss of gratitude, then she must have been very grateful. Not since Bush and Cheney have so few spent so much so fast for so long for so little. As a nympho for mind-fucks, Lisa took to politics like a pig to mud. She began paying men compliments as if she expected a receipt. Like the Aerosmith song, his get-up-and-go just got-up-and-went. “You couldn’t beat the crap out of a dirty diaper!” He embraced his only daughter as if she was deploying to Iraq. She was hotter than a Class 4 solar flare! If sex was a weapon, then Monique possessed WMD I haven’t felt this alive since I lost my virginity. He once read that 95% of women fake organism, and the rest are gay. Beauty may be in the eyes of the beholder, but ugly is universal. Why do wives fart, but not girlfriends? Adultery is sex that is wrong, but not necessarily bad. The dinosaurs stayed drugged out, drooling like Jonas Brothers fans. Silence filled the room like tear gas. The told him a fraction of the truth and hoped it would take just a fraction of the time. Happiness is the best cosmetic, He was a whale of a catch, and there were a lot of fish in the sea eager to nibble on his bait. Cheap hookers are less buck for the bang, Men cannot fall in love with women they don’t find attractive, and women cannot fall in love with men they do not respect. During sex, men want feedback while women expect mind-reading. Cooper looked like a cow about to be tipped over. His father warned him to never do anything he couldn’t justify on Oprah. The poor are not free -- they’re just not enslaved. Only those with money are free. Sperm wasn’t something he would choose on a menu, but it still tasted better than asparagus. The crater looked alive, like Godzilla was about to leap out and mess up Tokyo. Bush follows the Bible until it gets to Jesus. When Bush talks to God, it’s prayer; when God talks to Bush, it’s policy. Cheney called the new Miss America a traitor – apparently she wished for world peace. Cheney was so unpopular that Bush almost replaced him when running for re-election, changing his campaign slogan to, ‘Ain’t Got Dick.’ Bush fought a war on poverty – and the poor lost. Bush thinks we should strengthen the dollar by making it two-ply. Hurricane Katrina got rid of so many Democratic voters that Republicans have started calling her Kathleen Harris. America and Iraq fought a war and Iran won. Bush hasn’t choked this much since his last pretzel. Some wars are unpopular; the rest are victorious. So many conservatives hate the GOP that they are thinking of changing their name to the Dixie Chicks. If Saddam had any WMD, he would have used them when we invaded. If Bush had any brains, he would have used them when we invaded. It’s hard for Bush to win hearts and minds since he has neither. In Iraq, you are a coward if you leave and a fool if you stay. Bush believes it’s not a sin to kill Muslims since they are going to Hell anyway. And, with Bush’s help, soon. In Iraq, those who make their constitution subservient to their religion are called Muslims. In America they’re called Republicans. With great power comes great responsibility – unless you’re Republican.

I didn't grow up feeling smart and special, the world my oyster, born with a silver shucker in my hand. No one works harder than you, that's the way Zell and Juwon liked to put it. Everything I have is because I was the dutiful worker bee or because I have no other things to distract me, like girlfriends or wives, like mewling kids or family dogs or a love of weekend brunches and fantasy football, or a single, sad hobby, like solitaire or the Sunday jumble. I have this.

But alas, I'd have to find a way to be opinionated without being too opinionated, authoritative without being a bitch about it, smart without being elitist, fair without being a pushover. If the boyfriends of my youth found me too authoritative when I should have been cheering on the sidelines as they kicked and tossed and smacked balls toward the vanguard, the male colleagues of my adulthood kept reminding me of my lack of authority as they unconsciously displayed theirs. I was always failing someone's standards of legitimacy, as a girlfriend, as a producer of opinions. It was an eternal no-win. I was always too big or too small, like Alice, and forever being told, in one way or another, 'Eat me.

Being called ‘love’ or ‘my love’ by someone doesn’t necessarily mean that you are loved or even liked by them.

Wife: a former girlfriend

I suck at fighting. I have never really learned how to talk and be mad at the same time. If I have angry words to say, I need time to rehearse. I can't improvise when my head's dizzy with adrenaline; I have to cool down and then write out a script. I found this trait very difficult when I was trying to be a boyfriend, because in my experience, boyfriends and girlfriends often spend a lot of time fighting. Husbands and wives seem to spend a lot of time avoiding fights. This might be a bad thing, for all I know, but it seems to be part of why I like being a husband better.

Thank you,' said Annie. 'Second thing : Juliet is brilliant. Don't lump the music in with the rest of it.' 'Have you been taking any of this in ?' 'Yes. You're a very bad man. You've been a useless father to four of your five children, and a useless husband to every single one of your wives, and a rubbish partner to every single one of your girlfriends? And Juliet is still brilliant.

Or rather, we believe there’s one very specific type of rapist—the kind who wields a weapon, attacks strangers with no warning, and leaves abundant evidence of violence on the victim’s body—but not that some people deliberately rape their friends, girlfriends, wives, children, colleagues, or drunk new acquaintances. We can talk about how that sort of rape exists, and even about how it’s the most common sort, but when pressed, we’re almost never willing to acknowledge that those rapists exist. Not when the accused are people we know, or even just people who remind us of people we know. Not when they remind us of us . Nor

And haven’t men been gaslighting women, abusing their lovers, harassing their girlfriends, murdering their wives for as long as human history has existed? And isn’t their violence always a footnote, an acceptable causality?

There's a hardness I'm seeing in modern people. Those little moments of goofiness that used to make the day pass seem to have gone. Life's so serious now. Maybe it's just because I'm with an older gang now.[...]I mean nobody even has hobbies these days. Not that I can see. Husbands and wives both work. Kids are farmed out to schools and video games. Nobody seems able to endure simply being themselves, either - but at the same time they're isolated. People work much more, only go home and surf the Internet and send e-mail rather than calling or writing a note or visiting each other. They work, watch TV, and sleep. I see these things. The world is only about work: work work work get get get...racing ahead...getting sacked from work...going online...knowing computer languages...winning contracts. I mean, it's just not what I would have imagined the world might be if you'd asked me seventeen years ago. People are frazzled and angry, desperate about money, and, at best, indifferent to the future.

Cats can be a very affectionate type of animal, but it's an affection you have to win. Pretty much the way you earn the affection of your friends and your lovers and your wives and your girlfriends and anybody else that's meaningful in your life,' says Des philosophically. 'There's a period of time where you don't know your positioning, and you work for it. And then all of a sudden, the relationship is established and it's yours, it belongs to you, it's something tangible. You can feel it, you can touch it.

What did reality have to do with anything anyway? Quentin hated reality. Reality was sweaty and ugly. It was deodorant stains on black clothing and cold sore cream and utility bills. It was fake girlfriends and formal dinners in ill-fitting suits. It was his father lecturing him in broken English about being a man. It was all of Poland, that rundown junk shop of a country, with its stray dogs and secret forests where men fucked each other in the dark and then went home to their wives. No, Quentin wanted fantasy , which was exactly why he was going to the orgy that night.

Women, he would say, are not Muses. Muses are Muses. To confuse one with the other is to mistake the Devouring Void for the Seminal Light. Earthly Women and the Muses are ancient, sworn enemies. The battlefield is the Creative Male. On the one side is the encampment of Discordia, of Diana, of Venus located in his Heart and in his Groin. On the other is the Bastion of Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia and Urania, in his Brain and in his Mind. The Muses are tolerant and understanding of border raids, skirmishes, and harassing maneuvers. Throughout the history of the Male Light, there have been few painters, few writers, who have not had a She Who Must Be Accommodated. For some it was their mothers. For many their wives, their mistresses, their girlfriends. For many it was their daughters, a favourite waitress, a stripper, a whore. To the Muses, they are all one. Mother, whore, wife, daughter, stripper, waitress, mistress, girlfriend.

They are strong They are the rock. They are important Lets love them. Lets respect them Lets honor them. Lets appreciate them Lets protect them Lets support them Lets save them Lets listen to them Lets believe them Lets be there for them. They are our children, our sisters, our girlfriends, our friends, our wives, our mothers, our grand mothers, our colleagues, our neighbors. They don't need to prove themselves or to explain themselves to anyone. They need to be who they are. Phenomenal women. To all the women out there . Happy Women's Month

Where are the decent women, where are our good daughters, where are our future wives, All i see are whores with tattoos, they smoke do hard drugs and care-less, and if you correct them they insult you, where are our future mothers, where are the women with standards, where are the women with good character and good hearts, where are the women that hide their body from men, Real women are mothers to their kids,wives to their husbands, daughters to their mothers. Real women are strong & independent,Women, stop being a girlfriend that gives boyfriends "wife" privileges! Women: Please set great examples for your daughters & don't let them see you allow nonsense w/your man! Teach them to know their worth. ‪#‎Daniel_Friday_Danzor‬ ‪#‎Women‬

Now am I daring to accuse American strategic planners of deliberately eradicating peasant villages in order to smoke out the girls who would have little choice but to sexually service the same boys who bombed, shelled, strafed, torched, pillaged, or merely forcibly evacuated said villages? I am merely noting that the creation of native prostitutes to service foreign privates is an inevitable outcome of a war of occupation, one of those nasty little side effects of defending freedom that all the wives, sisters, girlfriends, mothers, pastors, and politicians in Smallville, USA, pretend to ignore behind waxed and buffed walls of teeth as they welcome their soldiers home, ready to treat any unmentionable afflictions with the penicillin of American goodness.

In Uprooting Racism, Paul Kivel makes a useful comparison between the rhetoric abusive men employ to justify beating up their girlfriends, wives, or children and the publicly traded justifications for widespread racism. He writes: During the first few years that I worked with men who are violent I was continually perplexed by their inability to see the effects of their actions and their ability to deny the violence they had done to their partners or children. I only slowly became aware of the complex set of tactics that men use to make violence against women invisible and to avoid taking responsibility for their actions. These tactics are listed below in the rough order that men employ them.… (1) Denial: “I didn’t hit her.” (2) Minimization: “It was only a slap.” (3) Blame: “She asked for it.” (4) Redefinition: “It was mutual combat.” (5) Unintentionality: “Things got out of hand.” (6) It’s over now: “I’ll never do it again.” (7) It’s only a few men: “Most men wouldn’t hurt a woman.” (8) Counterattack: “She controls everything.” (9) Competing victimization: “Everybody is against men.” Kivel goes on to detail the ways these nine tactics are used to excuse (or deny) institutionalized racism. Each of these tactics also has its police analogy, both as applied to individual cases and in regard to the general issue of police brutality. Here are a few examples: (1) Denial. “The professionalism and restraint … was nothing short of outstanding.” “America does not have a human-rights problem.” (2) Minimization. Injuries were “of a minor nature.” “Police use force infrequently.” (3) Blame. “This guy isn’t Mr. Innocent Citizen, either. Not by a long shot.” “They died because they were criminals.” (4) Redefinition. It was “mutual combat.” “Resisting arrest.” “The use of force is necessary to protect yourself.” (5) Unintentionality. “[O]fficers have no choice but to use deadly force against an assailant who is deliberately trying to kill them.…” (6) It’s over now. “We’re making changes.” “We will change our training; we will do everything in our power to make sure it never happens again.” (7) It’s only a few men. “A small proportion of officers are disproportionately involved in use-of-force incidents.” “Even if we determine that the officers were out of line … it is an aberration.” (8) Counterattack. “The only thing they understand is physical force and pain.” “People make complaints to get out of trouble.” (9) Competing victimization. The police are “in constant danger.” “[L]iberals are prejudiced against police, much as many white police are biased against Negroes.” The police are “the most downtrodden, oppressed, dislocated minority in America.” Another commonly invoked rationale for justifying police violence is: (10) The Hero Defense. “These guys are heroes.” “The police routinely do what the rest of us don’t: They risk their lives to keep the peace. For that selfless bravery, they deserve glory, laud and honor.” “[W]ithout the police … anarchy would be rife in this country, and the civilization now existing on this hemisphere would perish.” “[T]hey alone stand guard at the upstairs door of Hell.

If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. If you're going to try, go all the way. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision, mockery, isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. Do it. All the way You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.

if you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t even start. if you’re going to try, go all the way. this could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs and maybe your mind. go all the way. it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days. it could mean freezing on a park bench. it could mean jail, it could mean derision, mockery, isolation. isolation is the gift, all the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. and you’ll do it despite rejection and the worst odds and it will be better than anything else you can imagine. if you’re going to try, go all the way. there is no other feeling like that. you will be alone with the gods and the nights will flame with fire. do it, do it, do it. do it. all the way all the way. you will ride life straight to perfect laughter, its the only good fight there is.

Since the desires for power and control are in every heart, you don’t have to look overseas for lawless brutality. It happens every day between parents and children, boyfriends and girlfriends, husbands and wives. Where there is injustice, shame will be part of its fallout.

Men don’t have a reason any more. No one wants us. Why should they? What can we do? We have no job, no home to go to. It’s been taken away. Small wonder then that all that is left for us is to turn in upon ourselves, to clutch at the few things that give us meaning, hope. Money is one thing. Football is another. Football with money does it big time. But football is made up by men like us now, not like men of my father’s years. They have no idea who they are, where they are meant to go either. Call it sport. There was sport to it once, where sport was the point. The point now? What is the point, exactly, of this beautiful game? See them on the pitch, biting each other, pulling at each other’s shirts, kicking and scratching, flying tackles, jabs in the elbow, feigning injuries, bellowing obscenities at the ref: see them later, off the pitch, urinating in hotel plant pots, wrecking Indian takeaways, abusing shop owners, brawling in night clubs, gang-banging under-age groupies, punching unwilling women in the face; see them beating their wives, breaking their girlfriends’ arms, standing outside their ghastly houses with their Doric columns and Lamborghinis, driving to each other’s hideous celebrity-strewn weddings. Be worthless now, that’s all you can be. The age of the bully is upon us.

Sudanese dead beat fathers, single or divorced, with children involved from marriages, learn from your shortcomings without blaming ex-wives for all mistakes, unkept promises. Spend on your children without reminder instead of girlfriends, because a real man fears not child support, will never self-harm nor hide himself as a route to quite responsiblities, but rather takes care of his children regardless of the status quo with the mother, and Is aware enough that he is not a father until he raises a complete human being".

There are some secrets that women should always keep secret. Disgusting habits, how many sex partners they’ve had, and most importantly the fact that they’re skilled in espionage. Lainey Rostov, Russian surveillance spy, trained at gathering information about Navy SEALs and reporting back intelligence is coming out to play. It wasn’t easy moving to Virginia Beach with the goal of finding, dating, and then extracting information from a Navy SEAL. Actually it was quite a bit more difficult than that—I had to weave myself into the community, befriend SEAL girlfriends and wives, I had to blend in. You’d be surprised the amount of details men are willing to give out while drinking at a bar and better yet, in between the sheets. I’d fathom a guess that I’m a million times better at espionage than my male counterparts. I have more parts to use to my benefit. Does Cody know? Of course he knows. He called me out right at the get-go. I think that’s why I fell so hard for him. Intelligence looks divine on that man with such brawn. I glance over at him with his freshly fucked hair and mussed clothing and smile. He winks at me while he continues his phone conversation. He’s just as deranged as I was...am. A match made in fucked up heaven. What happens when a spy falls in love with her target? My fucking life. This is what happens. And Vadim wants to screw with me again. I don’t think so. I don’t think so. I wink back, lick my lips, and calculate just how dangerous this territory will be. Desperate times call for desperate measures. No matter what the cost. No one is taking him from me again.

Being married does not necessarily mean being appreciated; some men treat their girlfriends, and some treat their mistresses, way better than some treat their wives. (What’s more, some men treat their mistresses way better than they treat their wives)

it was great seeing the wives and girlfriends. I didn’t really get bored. It was more a case of wanting the next game to hurry up. I couldn’t wait to play each time. Gary Neville spared

The money quickly began to disappear into the rucksacks and footlockers of the officers and enlisted personnel who had access to it; some was mailed home to wives and girlfriends. The stealing in Iraq reached epic proportions.

Best of all, she waits outside the dressing room while I'm changing. Girlfriends don't do this but wives do, and if there is any better reason to get married than to have someone to hold your hand in a clothing store, I don't know what it is.

Girlfriends have sight. Wives have vision. You don’t marry for better or for better. What you manifest at your lowest is who you are at your highest. If you can’t stand with this man in the bad, then why would he want to celebrate you in the good? Get that spirit of girlfriend up off you. Wives stick and stay and pray that man through until he realizes the God in him is so much greater than what the devil has whispered to him.

I wonder how many people here know this is how he treats her. The other players. Their wives and girlfriends. Do they see it and look away, as so many did with me? Do they whisper about it to each other, but do nothing to help? I feel impotent with rage, at the careless way people discard other people's problems, and how I'm no better. Watching it happen and doing nothing.

Fine’s a funny word, don’t you think? I don’t think there’s another like it in the English language that says so much while actually saying so little. How many wives have told their husbands, “I’m fine,” when they really mean, “I want to cut your balls off with a butcher knife?” How many men have told their girlfriends, “You look fine,” when they really mean, “You need to go back to the gym and work out – a lot.” It’s the universal way of saying we’re just peachy – when we’re really anything but.

She took offense. Suddenly Gil Pyle’s past seemed crowded with women, the ex-wives and girlfriends he mentioned casually, frequently, as though Paulette were an army pal or a drinking buddy. Wrinkled, sexless, all but irrelevant. A former woman, neutered by age.

If I have learned anything, it is to keep my wife happy by sending her lavish gifts. Other men can learn from my success and send their wives and girlfriends fresh flowers for birthdays, anniversaries, and of course, Valentine's Day.

Good. Now, I know we’re early, but we should head out soon. Don’t want to be late to our coming out party, now do we?” Coming out what? I choke on my wine. “Coming out party?” “Well, yeah. Most of our friends will be there with their wives and girlfriends. This will be the first time in a long time that I’ve taken someone,” he says nonchalantly, likes it’s an everyday f**king occurrence. I try to appear unaffected on the outside, but inside I’m freaking out.

Black and Hispanic men are at least twice as likely as whites to batter their wives and girlfriends.195* One 2005 study found that Hispanic women were nine times more likely than white women to report domestic violence.196 Blacks are 8.4 times more likely than whites to kill their spouses.197

William and Kate escaped to Villa Hibiscus on the exclusive island enclave of Mustique in the Grenadines. Mustique had royal connections going back to the 1950s, when the high-living Princess Margaret built a lavish villa there. Mick Jagger bought a place on Mustique in 1971 and was soon joined by the likes of David Bowie and Richard Branson. Two other island residents—fashion moguls John and Belle Robinson, founders of the Jigsaw clothing chain—graciously waved the customary $14,000 weekly rental fee and lent Villa Hibiscus, their estate overlooking Macaroni Beach, to the young cadet and his girlfriend. The

To wives, girlfriends and all the women out there, stop blaming your man, he tries his best to not to slip but when Vishwamitra couldnt stop himself, hum toh aam log hai you see ;)

Flip religion, it was so far out, you couldn’t blame anybody for believing anything…Guys stuck the ace of spades in their helmet bands, they picked relics off of an enemy they’d killed, a little transfer of power; they carried around five-pound Bibles from home, crosses, St. Christophers, mezuzahs, locks of hair, girlfriends’ underwear, snaps of their families, their wives, their dogs, their cows, their cars, pictures of John Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Martin Luther King, Huey Newton, the Pope, Che Guevara, the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, wiggier than cargo cultists. One man was carrying an oatmeal cookie through his tour, wrapped up in foil and plastic and three pair of socks. He took a lot of shit about it. (“When you go to sleep we’re gonna eat your fucking cookie’), but his wife had baked it and mailed it to him, he wasn’t kidding.

…for only someone who has lived in a totalitarian state can appreciate the true character of paranoia. In 1937, when my father returned to Kiev from Luhansk, the whole country was bathed in a miasma of paranoia. It seeped everywhere, into the most intimate crevices of people's lives: it soured the relationship between friends and colleagues, between teachers and students, between parents and children, husbands and wives. Enemies were everywhere. If you didn't like the way someone has sold you a piglet, or looked at your girlfriend, or asked for money you owned, or given you a low mark in an exam, a quick word to the NKVD would sort them out...

Even more depressing than the idea of having Theo’s parents over for dinner was the knowledge that they would do so. Just as they would have the parents of the friend after Theo, and the friend after that, too. Then eventually, Matthew would have girlfriends and wives and in-laws and it would all involve a lot of spaghetti marinara, but Graham would do it. He would do it because that was what you did when you loved someone. You kept pushing until you broke on through to the other side, as Jim Morrison may have said. Only Morrison didn’t add that on the other side, you found another obstacle and had to keep pushing. Forever.

TOP 10 ONLINE DATING TIPS FOR MIDDLE-AGED MEN (ACCORDING TO DAN MARQUEZ) 1. Only use dating sites and apps that are free. The others are for suckers. 2. Don’t waste your time trying to come up with a catchy, original screen name. They’re all taken. 3. Keep your BIO brief. Less is more and you’re not that interesting. 4. Don’t mention past wives or girlfriends. Women will dig up your skeletons sure enough. 5. Mention your favorite food and if you have pets. Women will always love guacamole and animals more than they love men. 6. Take five seconds to spellcheck your personal BIO before posting it. Unless you’re trying to attract dyslexic women or non-English majors. 7. Absolutely no shirtless, selfie pics. Unless you’re gay or under the age of 25. 8. Don’t get discouraged if you LIKE a woman’s BIO and she never responds. It’s an ancient one the geniuses who run the dating sites never remove to keep lonely bastards like you swiping RIGHT. 9. Never be open and honest about your dating intentions. Women already know. 10.Do everything you can to disguise the fact you're a self-centered asshole with a fear of commitment like me.

If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is

I wonder if this fantasy of having a ‘harem’ is a disastrous byproduct of men’s conditioning to acquire things, and social structures that treat women as ‘things’. Men are collectors. They buy gadgets they don’t really need, adorn watches that cost more than the monthly income of the majority of the country’s population, and treat their cars as status symbols. As we have seen, men across all ages tend to treat women (girlfriends, wives, escorts or a harem) as trophies that elevate their status in some way. To many men, women continue to be possessions, even if these men may not be controlling or possessive or otherwise abusive.

Brendan sighed. "I always thought it was ridiculous, the way the guys can't peel themselves off their wives and girlfriends at the dock. Pissed they're making us late! He regarded his beautiful girlfriend stonily. "I'll be surprised if I don't try and carry you over my shoulder onto the boat next time. Take you with me.

Women cannot get power by violence, so they need to get power by control.

To this very day, I wonder why, when a man wants to insult another man, he calls him a woman or a girl. Now that I’m grown, I notice that these are guys with wives and girlfriends and daughters. Don’t they see what they’re saying?

If there is a more dispiriting place in Miami than the county jail, I haven’t found it . . . and I’ve spent a lot of time at the morgue. Approaching the jail, you can hear the anguished shouts of inmates on the upper floors, yelling through the barred windows at their wives, girlfriends, and homies below. Inside, you’ve got that institutional smell, as if a harsh cleanser has been laced with urine. Buzzers blare and lights flash. Steel crashes against steel as doors bang shut with the finality of a coffin closing.

Girlfriends are not wives. I draw the line at married women. Actually, women married to men with guns. If someone's girlfriend wants to make herself available, that's her business. Just don’t give my name to your boyfriend.

I find it quite entertaining that girlfriends and wives of some of my friends and the mistresses of my ex-husband feel the need to keep up with my social media. I didn't realize my life was so interesting since I am a simple person...I guess that's what happens when you have trust issues, bitterness, and/or nothing better to do.

I can fight. I’m no black belt, but I can still stand up for myself. This is how I would react if I ran into a werewolf in a dark alley with ominous music playing. Girls are sick of playing damsels in distress. We’re not in the Middle Ages, and this isn’t an Arthurian legend.” Maude took turns looking at each crew member and actor on the set. “What example would I be giving to girls all over this country if I were to roll over and let this thing bite me? Your sisters, girlfriends, wives, daughters. My character Mary doesn’t have to wait for Leonardo to save her. Forget about Mary and add a little Madeleine in this story!” she cried.

I go by the shop, but Friday’s not there. I go to the apartment, but she’s not there, either. I stop in her doorway and look around her room, startled at the lack of her things on the dresser. She did have makeup and other oddities there, but now there’s nothing. I go to the closet and open the door. Her suitcase is gone. I slam my fist against the wall, feeling like someone just kicked me in the gut. She’s gone. Completely and totally gone. I call all my brothers, and no one has seen her. I call all their girlfriends and wives, and they haven’t seen her. I call Garrett and Cody, and they haven’t seen her, either, but now they’re worried. So are my brothers. They want to go out looking for her, each of us taking a different part of the city. But there’s one thing I know for sure. She won’t turn up until she wants to be found.