Women destroy good men when they make them feel like their best effort is just a stepping stone to their next complaint. When a man works tirelessly to meet a standard you set, and instead of letting him rest in your satisfaction, you immediately raise the bar and demand more, you aren't inspiring him to grow, you are actively teaching him that he will never be enough for you!
The law firm threatening to destroy a special education school had no idea that one phone call could turn its own partners against the case. What they thought would be an easy payday was quickly becoming a public relations nightmare, and the school’s lawyer was about to discover a weakness they hadn’t considered.
After realizing that reasoning with the opposing side wasn’t getting him anywhere, the lawyer decided he needed a different approach. He knew that sometimes the best way to deal with unreasonable people was to find someone on the inside who understood how things worked.
He thought about it for a while until he remembered an old college classmate who had joined the very law firm now representing the people suing the school. They hadn’t spoken in years, but he knew his former classmate had worked hard and recently become a junior partner.
We should stop teaching daughters that being a good wife means tolerating everything.
A healthy marriage requires patience but it also requires mutual respect, accountability and the willingness to change harmful behaviour.
I slept with my best friend’s personal assistant, and what happened afterwards nearly destroyed our friendship.
Her name was Catherine. She was 28, attractive, intelligent and surprisingly funny. I had met her several times whenever I visited my friend, Marcus, at his office.
For months, we barely exchanged more than greetings. But one evening, Marcus travelled out of town for a business meeting, and Catherine called me.
She said she needed help moving some furniture into her new apartment.
I offered to help.
When I arrived, she welcomed me in and offered me dinner. We spent the evening talking, laughing and sharing stories about our relationships.
Then she asked, “Have you ever considered dating someone you already know?”
I smiled. “Depends on who that person is.”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“What if it’s me?”
He ran an ice cube done my back and I made a noise that scared the neighbors dog…
It was stupid hot. Like ninety-something in my apartment because the AC died and we were lying on my bed in underwear doing absolutely nothing because moving was pain and my sheets were sticking to my back and the fan was just pushing hot air around.
He went to the freezer and came back with a bowl of ice cubes and I thought he was going to put them in drinks but instead he said "turn over" and I turned onto my stomach and he sat on the edge of the bed and picked up an ice cube and pressed it between my shoulder blades and holy SHIT.
The cold hit me like a slap and I gasped and my back arched off the mattress and the water dripped down my spine and pooled in the dip above my ass and his free hand pressed flat on my lower back holding me down while he dragged the ice cube slowly, so slowly, down each vertebra and I was gripping the pillow and making sounds I didn't know I could make.
When I married my husband, his daughter was six.
From the beginning, I told her she never had to call me Mom. I told her she could call me whatever felt comfortable, and she decided to call me Emily.
So for years, I was simply Emily.
I went to her school plays, helped her with homework, took her to soccer practice, stayed up with her when she was sick, and learned exactly how she liked her pancakes. I never tried to force a relationship or make her give me a title she wasn’t ready to give me.
Then one February night, she got sick enough that we took her to the hospital.
It wasn’t anything life-threatening, but the doctors wanted to keep her overnight for observation. My husband stayed with her until almost midnight before telling me I should go home and get some sleep because I had work the next morning.
Our son Noah was five months old when I discovered my husband had been sharing my private postpartum photos with another woman. What I found in their messages was even worse.
Daniel used to pull me into the kitchen to slow dance to nothing.
Now he sleeps with his back to me and a phone face-down on his chest. He comes home at 7, says he's fried, eats standing up, and disappears into the screen.
He changed his passcode in August. He started smiling at it. I know that smile.
I'm a former dental hygienist on unpaid leave. Daniel makes the money, and he reminds me, gently and often.
When I asked what was wrong, he said, "You're just emotional, babe. Hormones."
One night I sent my sister a photo of my stomach, stretch marks and all: "Is this ever going to look normal?"
She wrote back, "You grew a human. It's beautiful."
I went to bed and listened to him breathe….
I wrote my ex a twenty-page letter. At page nineteen, it turned into a grocery list.
It began with, "I want you to understand how much you hurt me."
By page five, it was a list of grievances.
By page ten, I was describing a fight about cutlery.
By page fifteen, I'd written, "Also, I need milk."
By page nineteen, I'd written, "Eggs. Bread. Lemons."
On page twenty, I wrote, "Never mind."
I laughed, and cried, and read it aloud to my cat.
She purred.
I folded it, and put it in a drawer.
Months later, I found it.
I read it.
It had a great recipe for lemon cake.
I made it.
How I became obsessed with my evil older sister’s boyfriend’s thick còck…
As an 18 year old girl I had always been curious about my older sister's boyfriend’s body. I would get annoyed at hearing rumors about how David had the physique of a greek god, broad shoulders, washboard abs, and a thick cock. And it was thanks to my sister’s friends (some of whom were notorious sluts) that would show up to our house when our parents were at work. I would overhear them gossip and tease David about the bulge in his pants. As a result I would be asked to go to my room so that the ‘adults’ could talk freely among themselves. I was 18 and yet treated like a child. Sooo annoying.
I couldn’t stand those pretty (and popular) girls. They clearly didn’t like me. I was an inconvenience to them, and far from attractive due to terrible acne. I definitely was not in my prime back then that’s for sure. My sister would always join in and say negative or insulting things about me. Maybe due to peer pressure? Don’t know. Don’t care. She was mean and I hated her for it.
“She’s weird; she’s annoying” they would say. And laugh at my expense - the spotty teen with the silly glasses.