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I watched people, and then I wanted what they wanted. Does that make sense? I wanted everything, all the traveling, all the men, all the attention. I was a glutton for life. A whore for venture. I wanted to cut open my skull and pour experiences into it—good ones, bad ones, heck, even the meekly mediocre ones would do. I didn’t want to live them all, living gets messy and exhausting, and let’s face it, I still had a fucking job.
Life was a game. It was fun when you were an active player.
That was the thing about her: she had your number, and even if you were crazy, she still made the effort to care. Welcome to being married to an enabler.
it was better to be a narcissist and have some concept of it, than to tilt toward Psychopathy and have no idea.
It’s not women who make my dick hard; it’s my ability to control their emotions.
