Quotes About Intimacy

CONFIDANT, CONFIDANTE, n. One entrusted by A with the secrets of B, confided by him to C.

The first time I kissed you, you had just cut off your hair with a plastic knife. You were in restraints and your lips were completely chapped and dry from the tranquilizers. The next day you tried to kill me with a torn-off piece of bedsheet. I've seen you at your worst. You hardly need to dress up for me.

I'm not asking for anything beyond your company in sleep. Just let me rest with the sound of your heartbeat beside mine.

Dogman remembered the smell of her hair, the sound of her laugh, the feel of her back, pressed warm and soft against his belly while she slept. Well-used memories, picked over and worn thin like a favourite shirt.

you can't truly hate a man without loving him first, and there's always a trace of that love left over.

She would much rather have been held but, since they were who they were, she could be drunk instead.

I never found anybody else and I don't want anybody else. I don't care whether you're ninety years old or thirty. If I can't be your lover, I'll be your nurse.

It's so fucking cheap when people say I love you. It's a name to stick on a surge of hormones, with a little hint of loyalty thrown in. I've never liked saying it. Here's what I say: We're together, now and until the end. You have everything I need to be happy. You make me feel right.

I feel bad for her. It's not a lot of fun, you know." "What?" "Being in love with you. I've been with a lot of bad guys who made me feel lousy about myself, Jude, but you're something special. Because I knew none of them really cared about me, but you do, and you make me feel like your shitty hooker anyway.

My first wife was like the rash you get from poison ivy. I couldn't stand her, but I couldn't keep my hands off her. She was an itch I scratched until I bled--and then I scratched it some more!

She'd thought love had something to do with happiness, but it turned out they were not even vaguely related. Love was closer to a need, no different from the need to eat, to breathe. When Wayne fell asleep, his hot cheek against her naked breast, his lips smelling sweetly of the milk from her own body, she felt as if she was the one who had been fed.

She put her hand on the back of his arm and squeezed. She hoped he read that squeeze as /Thank you for caring/ and not /God, I'm horny, we should really screw sometime./ In her experience it was very difficult to offer a man affection and kindness without giving him the impression you were also offering a lay.

Was anything in all the world more heartrending than being found out by someone you wanted to love you?

Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done—cook an omelet, change lightbulbs, make with hugging—sometimes almost made being a woman fun. She wished she were not so

He glanced over at the woman who had never been his wife but who had, incredibly, given him a child and made his life mean something. The idea that he had ever held her hand, or tasted her mouth, or made love to her, even now seemed as unlikely as being bitten by a radioactive spider.

In her experience it was very difficult to offer a man affection and kindness without giving him the impression you were also offering a lay.

Neither disclosed these private discomforts. Each wanted the other to have the illusion that they might pause, anywhere, at any moment, and make love. And while both thought this was highly unlikely—not in this heat, not at this hour—the possibility kept bubbling up, every place they touched. This was the only true protection they'd brought with them as they walked deeper into the blue-gold Mojave.

The truth is always more scary than kissing someone for the first time.

Was anything in the world more heartrending than being found out by someone you wanted to love you?

It's because she doesn't love being lonely. When a girl loses her virginity, though, it may hurt, but it's real. It might be the realest, most private thing you could ever see in another person. You wonder who she'll be in that moment, when you finally get past all the pretend.

Nonverbal behaviors comprise approximately 60 to 65 percent of all interpersonal communication and, during lovemaking, can constitute 100 percent of communication between partners (Burgoon, 1994, 229–285).

Faccio solo finta di essere sfacciata. In realtà me la faccio addosso dalla paura. Questa cena fuori mi rende confusa. Non so se voglio davvero una storia lunga, o solo una scopata veloce. E tu?

We got some beer and some cheap wine and rented a room at a rundown motel and stayed up most of the night telling lies and a few sad truths that we hoped the other would think were lies.

Jim Bob looked at his watch. "I got time to get there and shower up, put on some smell-good, buy a couple packs of rubbers, and meet my barrel racer." "Couple packs of rubbers," Brett said. "Very romantic." "Ah, honey, I'm taking her to dinner first, and I always let the woman put the rubber on, and I think two packs is enough. And don't worry. I need an extra pack, I can send her to the drugstore. I got a bicycle in the garage.