Drop Dead Gorgeous

Is it time for your period, or something?" With unerring instinct, he'd found a great big red button, and pushed it. Wyatt fights to win, which means he fights dirty. I understand the concept because that's how I fight, too, but understanding it didn't stop me from reacting. I could practically feel my blood bubbling with steam. "What?" He turned around, all controlled aggression, and damned if he didn't push the button again. "What is it about having a period that makes women so bitchy?" ... It was an effort, but I said as sweetly as possible, "It isn't that we're bitchier, it's that having a period makes us feel all tired and achy, so we have less tolerance for all the bullshit we normally SUFFER IN SILENCE." By the time the sentence ended the sweetness was long gone, my jaw was clenched, and I think my eyes were bugging out. Wyatt took a step back, belatedly looking alarmed.

A village somewhere was missing it's idiot.

Love by itself isn't enough; it's never enough. There had to be other things, such as liking and respect, or love would get worn away by the realities of everyday life.

Just how many pairs of black shoes do you need?” he finally asked, staring at them lined up on the floor. Okay, shoes aren’t a laughing matter. I gave him a cool stare. “One pair more than I have.” “Then why didn’t you get them?” “Because I would still need one pair more than I have.

When we’re married and he looks at me sitting beside him at the table, he should feel as if he’s fought a great battle and accomplished something—namely, winning me. He’ll treasure me more. I like being treasured.

Jason is one of those people who is like a Slinky; you always smile when you think of watching him fall down the stairs.

What is it about having a period that makes women so bitchy?” I paused for a moment, struggling against the urge to leap on him and tear him limb from limb. For one thing, I love him. Even when he’s being an asshole, I love him. For another, any attempt to leap and tear right now would hurt me way worse than I could possibly hurt him. It was an effort, but I said as sweetly as possible, “It isn’t that we’re bitchier, it’s that having a period makes us feel all tired and achy, so we have less tolerance for all the bullshit we normally SUFFER IN SILENCE.” By the time the sentence ended the sweetness was long gone, my jaw was clenched, and I think my eyes were bugging out.