Half His Age Quotes

“Maybe wanting things is what makes me a lot. If I could just want less, I'd be the right amount of person. The amount I'm supposed to be. The not-a-lot amount. The easy-to-love amount”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I'm left with that funny feeling that happens when you spend a supposedly intimate occasion with people you don't feel any genuine intimacy with. That strange, gnawing feeling, equal parts hollow and lonely and wistful, with a tinge of irritability underneath. Craving something more. But accepting that this is it.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“Nothing hurts as bad as hope being met with reality.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I’m used to the person I’m dating, or sleeping with, or whatever it is, telling me all the things I ought to know instead of getting to know me. It’s how men, or boys, or both, communicate. They quote and they riff and they rant and they explain and they explain and they explain.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“A wave of recognition. Of peace. Of freedom. The peace and freedom that can only come from lowering your expectations of someone. From letting go of that person you wanted them to be. Needed them to be. And in the letting go of that version, letting go too of all the resentments that came from them not being that version.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“It’s an honor, being regarded highly enough to be disappointing.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“There’s something scary about letting go. Even if the emptiness makes room for something better. Because I don’t know what the something better is. Or if it’s coming. Maybe it won’t.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“Do you want me to move my hand?” he asks. Yes, I think. “No,” I say.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“The girl who hopes that if I wedge myself into a doll, a dream, a marionette with lifeless eyes, porcelain skin, and no needs of my own, a doll who indulges his fantasies and guzzles his cum, maybe then he will love me too.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“Sure,” I nod. “Occam’s razor. That’s how I feel about writing. I like writing that’s simple. Plainly stated observations, no fluff. I don’t wanna hear, ‘It was the kind of gray morning with air so frigid that it makes your bones wail like a creaking staircase. I wanna hear: ‘It was a cold Tuesday. My bones hurt.’ Get to the point, you know?”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“And what is connection, really, if not shared judgment?”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“And yet I can't help myself. Because last time I broke, last time I cried and complained and made a fuss, I lost him. I will not let that happen again. So I shove my concerns down. And my disappointments. And my grievances. And everything that isn't my perky tits or my warm, wet vagina. Those are his. But everything else, everything that's unappealing to him, that's too needy and too emotional and too sensitive and too much, everything that might lead to another breakup, I keep to myself and I scream into a pillow later.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“Maybe it takes commitment to know you shouldn’t have committed in the first place.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I regret the purchase and whoever I thought I was when I made it,”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I thought it might be nice to be the more wanted one, but it’s uncomfortable. To feel how eager he is to please me, to accommodate me. The unevenness reeks.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“...I'm just the paper doll ready to display any one of them, whichever will be the one he wants the most.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“This is worse than the dull ache of loneliness or the skin-crawl of anxiety. This is all my worst fears combined, drowning me, swallowing me whole. I'm unlovable. I'm unworthy. I'm too much and not enough at the same time. I'm a child. I'm stupid. I'm naive. I'm ugly. I'm too sensitive. Too emotional. Too angry. Too fucking angry.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I want to be grateful that I'm feeling so much. Unthawed after years of being numb. Mr. Korgy unlocked something in me, a depth that I didn't know was there before. Maybe gratitude will come with time. Maybe someday I'll stop crying because it's over and will smile because it happened or whatever. Or maybe that's just one of those things people say to keep sad people chugging forward so they don't have to deal with them, like "It gets better" and "Time heals all wounds." Maybe time doesn't heal wounds and it won't get better and I'll never stop crying because it's over.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“The chili burns my vagina.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“That's the problem with pain. It rattles you. Makes you lose sight of yourself and lean on the wrong people. The people who pervert being leaned on.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I didn't feel anything, but he seems to have. And maybe that's enough. One for two. Maybe it doesn't matter that my body feels cold and limp against his. That my mind races, detached. Maybe it's good that I don't feel passion for him. Maybe passion is bad for me. Makes me crazy and unstable. Maybe it's better this way.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“This is why I don’t cry in front of others. Because people like Frannie use tears as a fucked-up currency. They mistake tears for a compliment to their caretaking”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“The offer hangs in the air for a second, the kind of second where a full four-course meal of emotions is devoured within it. Regret, then nervousness, then anticipation, then dread. All chewed and swallowed and partially digested, mixed with saliva and swirling around, just waiting. And waiting. And waiting.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the problem. My mom called me hard to love when I was seven and the phrase always stuck with me even though she swore she didn't mean it twenty minutes later, and by two days later she denied she'd ever said it at all.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“You're usually so understanding," he says, his face settled with a milky look of concern.
It's a masterfully chosen phrase, a way of pinning the problem back onto me, like he's just the timid guy trying to make sense of his girlfriend's "outburst," which he quantifies as any emotion that makes him remotely uncomfortable, which is any emotion that isn't happiness or horniness. I would be impressed if I wasn't so livid.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“Maybe wanting things is what makes me a lot. If I could just want less”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I've tried not to ask for much, and to expect even less. I've tried to make them feel funny when they say all the same jokes, feel smart when they all have the same point of view, feel right when a quick Google search confirms that they're not. I've tried to laugh on cue, smile on cue, compliment on cue. I've watered down my personality to a cardboard cutout version of myself, and I thought that was fine so long as my body showed up in 4D with bells and whistles, ready to grab and grope and lick and suck.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I know my job. My role. To make him feel good. To be his escape. To take him out of the pressures of his life, which includes not putting any pressure on him to be a bigger part of mine.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“You saw that I was hurting,” I say plainly. “But you pretended you didn’t because that would have made your life more difficult. Because then you would’ve had to actually do something about it.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“I'm not sure how in a matter of ten seconds I somersaulted from being the one seeking reassurance from him to being the one asked to give it to him but regardless I want to stick the landing.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age