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mustang_00
Well-known member
when in doubt pinky out!
mustang_00
Well-known member
did you read the sunday one??? it says
forcing a girl to give you a blowjob when she doesn't want to is the lowest thing you could do...
how do you force someone to give you a blowjob?????? there is no justification of being a mouth slut... deal with it! if you have a mouth to suck you have a mouth to say NO
forcing a girl to give you a blowjob when she doesn't want to is the lowest thing you could do...
how do you force someone to give you a blowjob?????? there is no justification of being a mouth slut... deal with it! if you have a mouth to suck you have a mouth to say NO
calveless wonder
New member
EnderJE said:
that is absolutely correct. especially the latter
most kids who grow up privileged dont appreciate it until its taken from them
i am speaking from personal experience on both aspects
calveless wonder
New member
mrplunkey said:
+1
http://postsecret.blogspot.com/blueta2 said:
blueta2
New member
blueta2
New member
EnderJE said:
It's inspirational!
I've never thought my life was bad, even though the events of my life were horrible. I just never talk about it and go on and on.
Not once through all my pain have I ever played the victim, but instead searched for answers.
That site gives answers (well what I've seen so far)
The postcard about leaving a job and finding happiness, that is my cross I'm baring right now and I feel less alone knowing others took a leap of faith and made it
Man, I love that site
I love this one... and I also love the quote about shuffle being the most spontaneous thing in his life...blueta2 said:
chris said it best when he described the site as naked honesty...
the multidimensional, transitional quality of life is really illuminated, while its not the transcendental hallmark shit my cheesy ass digs on... it has a ephermeral spiritual quality that I first overlooked... that said good stuff.
blueta2
New member
ariel347 said:
so true!
Very good stuff.
I love the one with the disabled guy. My beautifl 15 yr old niece is disabled and has a fatal illness that is going to take her life soon, so when I saw that one, tears came down my face
I need to get out of the house today
I think I'm going to post some secrets ;-)
blueta2
New member
from the site and have to share this
Frank:
Thought I would send you one of those "follow-up messages" that you encourage on your site.
Let me start with how I came to send you my postal card in the first place. About two years ago I was seeing this Nice Girl who was on the pill. Despite this, I took "extra precautions" which rather put her off. Even though we had a very good relationship, this was a source of friction between us until, finally, late one night, she confronted me about it and demanded to know why I was so careful. So I told her.
I told her that years before I had been profoundly in love with a woman who, in the course of our relationship, and largely through my carelessness, got pregnant. She was young, just beginning her career, and so she told me she was going to do the smart thing and take care of it. I did nothing. She had an abortion. Soon, however, we realized the enormity of what we had done. We dared not discuss it. We loved each other yet, deep inside without ever saying it, we both deeply regretted that we had killed our child. This came to poison our relationship. We each blamed ourselves for the awful thing that we had done and, when she got a fat job offer in LA, she left. We both knew, though we dared not say it, that the only way she could get away from the abortion was to get away from me and get away from Chicago. Not a day has gone by since that I have not grieved for our child. Not a morning has gone by that I have not begged God to put the whole of the guilt of this upon me and spare her. It was simply the worst thing I have ever done in my life.
So, late one night, I told this to the Nice Girl. I had never told this to anyone and, forced to put my feelings into words, I broke down utterly in front of her. I was a sobbing wreck, but I got the story out.
It was quite a catharsis for both of us, and the Nice Girl told me that I would have to, somehow, forgive myself for having done this if I ever wanted to be a "whole person." In fact, she had a plan. She wanted me to mail in a postal card to your site, expressing my anguish and regret, exposing myself publicly so that I might finally cast off my shame and begin again.
I thought it over. The Nice Girl was prepared to give me some time to think about this before acting, but inspiration overtook me immediately and, the very next day, I had a vision of exactly what I wanted to say.
It took me a while to search the internet to find the images, and then my computer program would not allow me to assemble them, so I had to print them out separately and cut and paste them together, but within a few days I had made two identical postal cards.
(To jog your memory: my card shows the famous photograph of the Saigon police shooting an NVA guerrilla fighter in the head during the Tet Offensive, except that I have substituted the baby head of a Kewpie Doll for the victim, and I wrote "I will never forgive myself for letting her get the
abortion.")
I sent one to you and the other I sent to the Nice Girl.
She was over-joyed. She told me that she loved me and that she had held back on telling me this because my emotional responses to her "moved with glacial speed."
But now she felt that there had been a real break-through, that I had finally "taken ownership of my feelings" and acted upon them. I confessed that I loved her too and, despite enormous difficulties that lay in front of us, we began to discuss the things in life that really mattered: marriage, children, companionship through eld and death.
And then my card did not appear on your blog.
At first this just heightened our anticipation. We figured that you must have a few weeks back-log of cards to clear out before you got to mine. Then the Nice Girl began to wonder aloud if my card had not got lost in the mail. Then, after perhaps two months, she out-and-out accused me of not having sent you the card at all. We had quite a row about it.
The path of love in never smooth, but this suddenly became a huge impediment. The "fact" that I had never mailed the card to you now became "evidence" that I was still in love with the other woman. The "fact"
that I had never mailed the card to you now indicated that I was not interested in "clearing up" this trauma, but instead, wished to dwell upon it. The "fact" that I had never mailed the card to you was prima-facie evidence that I did not love the Nice Girl.
I'm not going to say that this was the only factor that caused our break-up. When Lindbergh was leaving on his immortal trip across the Atlantic, the reporters wanted a picture of his mother giving him one last hug, but she refused: "We're Swedish, we don't do that." And I am from that same Nordic stock: distant, un-demonstrative, yet granite hard in our affections. The Nice Girl, on the other hand, was Italian, demonstrative, unconstrained, effusive, much put off by my northern reserve. I wished to resolve the very real material difficulties of our situation before wedding and starting a family, but she wanted to begin right away regardless of our circumstances. All my reservations, all my prudence, all my forethought, she took as reluctance.
And, of course, I HAD NEVER MAILED THE POSTAL CARD, had never consummated the catharsis that we had experienced on that fateful night.
So we broke up.
It's been a while and the wound is not fresh. My heart feels more of a dull ache nowadays than the sharp cut it felt when our rupture was new. At least, the sensation was not keen until yesterday.
You see, yesterday I was in a bookstore when I saw your volume: "The Secret Lives of Men and Woman."
Now, ever since the Nice Girl had hepped me onto your stuff I have found it amusing, so naturally, I began to flip through the book. Imagine my shock when I saw my postal card on a two-page spread. My card - THAT HAD NEVER BEEN POSTED ON YOUR SITE - my trauma before me in a full-color two-page spread. A coup de pied right to the gut.
I stood there for some time, perhaps a quarter-hour, trying to recover from the blow. I thought for a moment of buying the book, showing it to the Nice Girl, just to prove at last my earnestness to her. But then I decided against it.
After all - why should I allow my betrayer to profit from my anguish?
Yours For A Better World.
see pic
http://i38.tinypic.com/28ck4jo.jpg
Frank:
Thought I would send you one of those "follow-up messages" that you encourage on your site.
Let me start with how I came to send you my postal card in the first place. About two years ago I was seeing this Nice Girl who was on the pill. Despite this, I took "extra precautions" which rather put her off. Even though we had a very good relationship, this was a source of friction between us until, finally, late one night, she confronted me about it and demanded to know why I was so careful. So I told her.
I told her that years before I had been profoundly in love with a woman who, in the course of our relationship, and largely through my carelessness, got pregnant. She was young, just beginning her career, and so she told me she was going to do the smart thing and take care of it. I did nothing. She had an abortion. Soon, however, we realized the enormity of what we had done. We dared not discuss it. We loved each other yet, deep inside without ever saying it, we both deeply regretted that we had killed our child. This came to poison our relationship. We each blamed ourselves for the awful thing that we had done and, when she got a fat job offer in LA, she left. We both knew, though we dared not say it, that the only way she could get away from the abortion was to get away from me and get away from Chicago. Not a day has gone by since that I have not grieved for our child. Not a morning has gone by that I have not begged God to put the whole of the guilt of this upon me and spare her. It was simply the worst thing I have ever done in my life.
So, late one night, I told this to the Nice Girl. I had never told this to anyone and, forced to put my feelings into words, I broke down utterly in front of her. I was a sobbing wreck, but I got the story out.
It was quite a catharsis for both of us, and the Nice Girl told me that I would have to, somehow, forgive myself for having done this if I ever wanted to be a "whole person." In fact, she had a plan. She wanted me to mail in a postal card to your site, expressing my anguish and regret, exposing myself publicly so that I might finally cast off my shame and begin again.
I thought it over. The Nice Girl was prepared to give me some time to think about this before acting, but inspiration overtook me immediately and, the very next day, I had a vision of exactly what I wanted to say.
It took me a while to search the internet to find the images, and then my computer program would not allow me to assemble them, so I had to print them out separately and cut and paste them together, but within a few days I had made two identical postal cards.
(To jog your memory: my card shows the famous photograph of the Saigon police shooting an NVA guerrilla fighter in the head during the Tet Offensive, except that I have substituted the baby head of a Kewpie Doll for the victim, and I wrote "I will never forgive myself for letting her get the
abortion.")
I sent one to you and the other I sent to the Nice Girl.
She was over-joyed. She told me that she loved me and that she had held back on telling me this because my emotional responses to her "moved with glacial speed."
But now she felt that there had been a real break-through, that I had finally "taken ownership of my feelings" and acted upon them. I confessed that I loved her too and, despite enormous difficulties that lay in front of us, we began to discuss the things in life that really mattered: marriage, children, companionship through eld and death.
And then my card did not appear on your blog.
At first this just heightened our anticipation. We figured that you must have a few weeks back-log of cards to clear out before you got to mine. Then the Nice Girl began to wonder aloud if my card had not got lost in the mail. Then, after perhaps two months, she out-and-out accused me of not having sent you the card at all. We had quite a row about it.
The path of love in never smooth, but this suddenly became a huge impediment. The "fact" that I had never mailed the card to you now became "evidence" that I was still in love with the other woman. The "fact"
that I had never mailed the card to you now indicated that I was not interested in "clearing up" this trauma, but instead, wished to dwell upon it. The "fact" that I had never mailed the card to you was prima-facie evidence that I did not love the Nice Girl.
I'm not going to say that this was the only factor that caused our break-up. When Lindbergh was leaving on his immortal trip across the Atlantic, the reporters wanted a picture of his mother giving him one last hug, but she refused: "We're Swedish, we don't do that." And I am from that same Nordic stock: distant, un-demonstrative, yet granite hard in our affections. The Nice Girl, on the other hand, was Italian, demonstrative, unconstrained, effusive, much put off by my northern reserve. I wished to resolve the very real material difficulties of our situation before wedding and starting a family, but she wanted to begin right away regardless of our circumstances. All my reservations, all my prudence, all my forethought, she took as reluctance.
And, of course, I HAD NEVER MAILED THE POSTAL CARD, had never consummated the catharsis that we had experienced on that fateful night.
So we broke up.
It's been a while and the wound is not fresh. My heart feels more of a dull ache nowadays than the sharp cut it felt when our rupture was new. At least, the sensation was not keen until yesterday.
You see, yesterday I was in a bookstore when I saw your volume: "The Secret Lives of Men and Woman."
Now, ever since the Nice Girl had hepped me onto your stuff I have found it amusing, so naturally, I began to flip through the book. Imagine my shock when I saw my postal card on a two-page spread. My card - THAT HAD NEVER BEEN POSTED ON YOUR SITE - my trauma before me in a full-color two-page spread. A coup de pied right to the gut.
I stood there for some time, perhaps a quarter-hour, trying to recover from the blow. I thought for a moment of buying the book, showing it to the Nice Girl, just to prove at last my earnestness to her. But then I decided against it.
After all - why should I allow my betrayer to profit from my anguish?
Yours For A Better World.
see pic
http://i38.tinypic.com/28ck4jo.jpg
Word I have to do this near every day even still. I tell all the new people I sit with to couch act as if. Confidence is attractive to customers they want to know the person they are dealing with is sure of themselves and what they are doing.mrplunkey said:
I have one of the books from the secret I also have the audio book on my Ipod. I need to listen to it as the more I do the more I can make it natural and stay positive happy etc.
Blue the first thing I notice is how I just want to solve the whole situation, and tell the guy that he should have done the obvious... I mean it just appears that the Nice Girl had a real compassionate, nourishing presence that he's gonna miss out on... I wanna label that whole situation, but in reality, not so simple I can see where he was coming from... but he had the opportunity to cut through the past with the momentum that special evening provided... one has to take decisive action in those special moments when you are presented the opportunity to cut through the past stories that through conditioning dictate your perceptions and transmit themselves forward into the future, thus transmitting the past forward, really cutting off your chance to change your perceptions... he had this opportunity and maybe he thought that this state of mind would last, but it doesn't, it passes and soon you are back to status quo, with the same story in the background dictating your perception of reality... man, tragic, beautiful story... I just wish he would have taken the opportunityblueta2 said:
this story reminds me of this quote traz dropped on me
By three methods we may learn wisdom; first, by reflection; which is noblest, second by imitation, which is easiest, and third by experience which is the most bitter.
Though, this story just reminds me not take my self and relationships for granted.
H
heatherrae
Guest
happiness is something we just have to decide is internal. The dalai llama is happy after having many of his monks and his brother tortured and murdered and losing his homeland. you can't let happiness depend on external events.
calveless wonder
New member
^--the art of happiness is a great book. i felt an inner peace when i read it.
of course a month or so after i read it i pretty much lost the effect of it.
a book you have to reread a lot to truly internalize
of course a month or so after i read it i pretty much lost the effect of it.
a book you have to reread a lot to truly internalize
H
heatherrae
Guest
Funny you mention that book. There are two books that changed my life. That is one of the two. The other was a book about self esteem that was very enlightening to me.calveless wonder said:
H
heatherrae
Guest
The dalai llama wrote a book called the "Art of Happiness" but he does discuss what that means. There is a bit lost in translation because what he is talking about when he uses the word "happiness" isn't exactly the same as the word that we use. There is no perfect word in the English language for what he means, but whatever.blueta2 said:
ricco561
New member
I'm no Dali llama, but whether you call it happiness, contentment or fire truck, it’s ultimately about what I choose.blueta2 said:
If my choice is to be the richest, best looking, happiest man in the world, then it will probably never happen.
If I’m happy or content with who “I” am, then I have succeded.
H
heatherrae
Guest
yes, good book! So is "Ethics for the New Millenium"blueta2 said:
I wish we could help Tibet. It's so sad.
H
heatherrae
Guest
WOW! How cool would that be? I would change his entire perspective. It would be the end of Buddhism. He would forget about the "absence of desire" and that contentment stuff. He wouldn't ever be content again unless he had a full box of little debbies on standby. ;-)ariel347 said:
We need you to fly out to tibet with your ho ho's and snack cakes, and seductive skillz to get him to be a mod here... he would have never locked out the cat pee fun, plus I bet his relationship advice is vastly underated too.heatherrae said:
Course it would sting just a little more to be banned by the DL since he pretty much is the embodiment of cooperation, tolerance, and peace... but I bet he could unleash absolute punishment on shit talking alters... yup good stuff.
H
heatherrae
Guest
I bet he would promote me to Mod because I've read his books and am so wise...yada, yada, yada.ariel347 said:
LOL.
We take for granted the power of language though, I mean it is language that conducts the perception of reality... its so interesting now though, as there are experiences and things that can't be categorized that are emerging... and as a result the power of metaphor is really increasing... sorry I've got the itch to dork out again...EnderJE said:
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