When she says margarita she means daiquiri.
When she says quixotic she means mercurial.
And when she says, "I'll never speak to you again,"
she means, "Put your arms around me from behind
as I stand disconsolate at the window."
He's supposed to know that.
When a man loves a woman he is in New York and she is in Virginia
or he is in Boston, writing, and she is in New York, reading,
or she is wearing a sweater and sunglasses in Balboa Park and he
is raking leaves in Ithaca
or he is driving to East Hampton and she is standing disconsolate
at the window overlooking the bay
where a regatta of many-colored sails is going on
while he is stuck in traffic on the Long Island Expressway.
When a woman loves a man it is one ten in the morning
she is asleep he is watching the ball scores and eating pretzels
drinking lemonade
and two hours later he wakes up and staggers into bed
where she remains asleep and very warm.
When she says tomorrow she means in three or four weeks.
When she says, "We're talking about me now,"
he stops talking. Her best friend comes over and says,
"Did somebody die?"
When a woman loves a man, they have gone
to swim naked in the stream
on a glorious July day
with the sound of the waterfall like a chuckle
of water rushing over smooth rocks,
and there is nothing alien in the universe.
Ripe apples fall about them.
What else can they do but eat?
When he says, "Ours is a transitional era,"
"that's very original of you," she replies,
dry as the martini he is sipping.
They fight all the time
It's fun
What do I owe you?
Let's start with an apology
Ok, I'm sorry, you dickhead.
A sign is held up saying "Laughter."
It's a silent picture.
"I've been fucked without a kiss," she says,
"and you can quote me on that,"
which sounds great in an English accent.
One year they broke up seven times and threatened to do it
another nine times.
When a woman loves a man, she wants him to meet her at the
airport in a foreign country with a jeep.
When a man loves a woman he's there. He doesn't complain that
she's two hours late
and there's nothing in the refrigerator.
When a woman loves a man, she wants to stay awake.
She's like a child crying
at nightfall because she didn't want the day to end.
When a man loves a woman, he watches her sleep, thinking:
as midnight to the moon is sleep to the beloved.
A thousand fireflies wink at him.
The frogs sound like the string section
of the orchestra warming up.
The stars dangle down like earrings the shape of grapes.
by David Lehman
No, love is not dead in this heart these eyes and this mouth
that announced the start of its own funeral.
Listen, I've had enough of the picturesque, the colorful
and the charming.
I love love, its tenderness and cruelty.
My love has only one name, one form.
Everything disappears. All mouths cling to that one.
My love has just one name, one form.
And if someday you remember
O you, form and name of my love,
One day on the ocean between America and Europe,
At the hour when the last ray of light sparkles
on the undulating surface of the waves, or else a stormy night
beneath a tree in the countryside or in a speeding car,
A spring morning on the boulevard Malesherbes,
A rainy day,
Just before going to bed at dawn,
Tell yourself-I order your familiar spirit-that
I alone loved you more and it's a shame
you didn't know it.
Tell yourself there's no need to regret: Ronsard
and Baudelaire before me sang the sorrows
of women old or dead who scorned the purest love.
When you are dead
You will still be lovely and desirable.
I'll be dead already, completely enclosed in your immortal body,
in your astounding image forever there among the endless marvels
of life and eternity, but if I'm alive,
The sound of your voice, your radiant looks,
Your smell the smell of your hair and many other things
will live on inside me.
In me and I'm not Ronsard or Baudelaire
I'm Robert Desnos who, because I knew
and loved you,
Is as good as they are.
I'm Robert Desnos who wants to be remembered
On this vile earth for nothing but his love of you.
A la mysterieuse
by Robert Desnos
Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile – the winds –
To a heart in port –
Done with the compass –
Done with the chart!
Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor – Tonight –
In thee!
by Emily Dickinson
How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height,
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight.
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
(A girl and guy were speeding over 100 mph on a motorcycle)
Girl: Slow down. Im scared.
Guy: No this is fun.
Girl: No its not. Please, its to scary!
Guy: Then tell me you love me.
Girl: Fine, I love you. Slow down!
Guy: Now give me a BIG hug. (Girl hugs him). Can u take my helmet off and put it on? Its bugging me.
In the paper the next day: A motorcycle had crashed into a building because of break failure. Two people were on the motorcycle, but only one survived.
The truth was that halfway down the road, the guy realized that his breaks broke, but he didn't want to let the girl know. Instead, he had her say she loved him, felt her hug one last time, then had her wear his helmet so she would live even though it meant he would die.
They have been married for two years. He loves literature and often posts his work on the net, but nobody ever reads them. He is also into photography and he handles their wedding photos. He loves her very much. Likewise with her. She has a quick temper and always bullies him. He is a gentleman and always gives in to her.
Today, she's being willful again.
Her: "Why can't you be the photographer for my friend's wedding? She promised she'd pay."
Him: "I don't have time that day."
Her: "Humph!"
Him: "Huh?"
Her: "Don't have time? Write less of those novels, and you will have all the time you need."
Him: "I... someone will definitely recognize my work some day."
Her: "Humph! I don't care, you'll have to do it for her!"
Him: "No."
Her: "Just this once?"
Him: "No."
Negotiation's broken. So, she gave the final warning: "Give me a Yes within three days, or else..."
First day, she "withheld" the kitchen, bathroom, computer, refrigerator, television, hi-fi... Except the double bed, to show her "benevolence".
Of course, she has to sleep on it too. He didn't mind, as he still has some cash in his pockets.
Second day, she conducted a raid and removed everything from his pockets and warned, "Seek any external help, and you bear the consequences."
He's nervous now. That night, on the bed, he begs for mercy, hoping that she'll end this state. She doesn't give a damn. No way am I giving in, whatever he says. Until he agrees.
Third day, night. On the bed. He's lying on the bed, looking to one side. She's lying on the bed, looking to the other side.
Him: "We need to talk."
Her: "Unless it's about the wedding, forget it."
Him: "It's something very important."
She remains silent.
Him:"Let's get a divorce."
She did not believe her ears.
Him: "I got to know a girl."
She's totally angry, and wanted to hit him. But she held it down, wanting to let him finish. But her eyes already felt wet. He took a photo out from his chest. Probably from his undershirt pocket, that's the only place she didn't go through yesterday. How careless.
Him: "She's a nice girl."
Her tears fell.
Him: "She has a good personality too."
She's heartbroken because he puts a photo of some other girl close to his heart.
Him: "She says that she'll support me fully in my pursue for literature after we got married."
She's very jealous because she said the same thing in the past.
Him: "She loves me truly."
She wishes to sit up and scream at him "Don't I?"
Him: "So, I think she won't force me to do something that I don't want to do."
She's thinking, but the rage won't subside.
Him: "Want to take a look at the photo I took for her?"
Her: "...!"
He brings the photo before her eyes. She's in a total rage, hits his hand away and leaves a burning slap on his face.
He sighs. She cries.
He puts the photo back to his pocket. She pulls her hand back under the blanket.
He turns off the light, and sleeps. She turns on the light, and sits up. He's asleep. She lost sleep. She regrets treating him the way she treated him.
She cried again, and thought about a lot of things. She wants to wake him up. She wants to have a intimate talk with him. She doesn't want to push him anymore. She stares at his chest. She wants to see how the girl looks.
She slips the photo out. She wanted to cry and she wanted to laugh.
It's a nicely taken photo. A photo he took for her. She bends down, and kissed him on his cheek.
He smiled. He was just pretending to be asleep.
"You learn to love, not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly."
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative b**ches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete a** now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
