Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating

But at the end of the day", she says, and puts her hand outside the open window, letting the wind pass through her fingers, "being myself is enough. I'm enough.

The world seems full of men who are initially infatuated by our eccentricities, but who ultimately expect them to be temporary.

I learned a very important thing that day: my mom would never try to change for a man, and I wouldn’t, either.

The way Emily describes it: when I meet someone I love, I become an octopus and wind my tentacles around their heart, tighter and tighter until they can't deny they love me just the same.

We both know Hazel is a butterfly. I think you have the power to take the dust from her wings.

He smiles, but it’s not a smile I’ve ever seen before. It’s a dangerous smile; he’s a movie villain, the seductive one, the one who robs you but fucks you real good first.

Are you listening?” “Barely.” “You are perfect for me.

I saw it and I thought it would make you laugh.” Josh’s eyes soften, and he gives me such an adoring smile, it’s nearly painful. “You look ridiculous in that. I hope you wear it all day.

I realize that finding the perfect person isn't going to be easy for me because I'm a lot to take," she says, "but I'm not going to change just so that I'm more datable. At the end of the day, being myself is enough. I'm enough.

I know I’m like Pig-Pen in Charlie Brown, and I have chaos around me, but it’s like he doesn’t even care. He doesn’t need me to change or pretend to be someone else. He’s my person. He’s my best friend.

I realize I should be mortified that Past Hazel was so dramatically inappropriate, but it's not like I'm that much better now, and regret isn't really my speed anyway.

I loved her in the way we love in high school, sort of intensely, idealistically, and without knowing each other all that well.

I always thought I caught you in . . . a phase. His left eyebrow makes a fancy arch. Apparently you're just like this.

Dave hands me the bread. Josh takes some chicken onto his plate. The silence is homicidal. Emily finishes her wine and Dave pours her more. For such a small thing, Emily can really pack it away. “Winnie has worms,” I tell the table, and spread some butter on my bread. “Took her to the vet earlier. I was so worried I was going to have to treat it with some ointment in her butt, but—nope—just a pill.” I take a sip of wine and grin at them. Josh puts his fork down and cups his forehead. But in a few beats they all break into laughter, and Emily looks over at me with my favorite kind of fondness. “She doesn’t really have worms. I was just kidding.” I am nothing if not a decent icebreaker.

I love you too, you know.” His kiss turns into a smile. “Yeah?” “I’ve probably loved you longer.” A trickster grin. “Probably.” I pinch his splendid ass for that and he growls, pressing into me.

Please tell me you’re not that guy right now.” “What guy?” “The guy you’ve always been, who wants me to be quirky but not weird, who wants me to dance only when other people are dancing, who likes telling all the stories about me but doesn’t remember how much he bitched about each of those moments when it happened.

Getting Pretty Panties Ripped Requires Real Damn Initiative. Or--general, personal, possessive, reflexive, reciprocal, relative, demonstrative, and interrogative!

I can say without question I’ve honestly never known anyone else like you.” “So completely undatable?” “Something like that.

Turning, I yell over my shoulder, "Emily, your Korean name is Yujin?" She nods. "He's is Jimin." I look at him like I'm seeing a new person in front of me. The two syllables of his name are like a sensual exhale, something I might say immediatly preorgasm when words fail me. "That might be the hottest name I've ever heard,

Drunk giggly Josh is my favorite, but drunk confident Josh is my new religion.

I wouldn’t exactly say we were scraping the bottom of the barrel by date seven, but Josh did feel the need to fake diarrhea, and I readily rushed him out to the car, apologizing profusely to our confused dates over my shoulder.

Do you know how many guys like to date the cute wild girl for a few weeks before expecting me to chill a little and become more Regular Girlfriend? [..] But at the end of the day, [..] being myself is enough. I’m enough.” She’s not saying it to convince me, or even herself; she’s already there.

I’ve never had casual sex. I’ve honestly never understood the impulse; sex is so supremely intimate. I give away a nonrefundable piece of myself, every time.

I used to think I was so together, but now the only thing I feel is a hollow sense of not enough.

I swear my mouth and my brain are siblings who hate each other and give each other wedgies in the form of mortifying moments like this. Now it seems my brain has deserted me.

I’m definitely not thinking about the quiet way she mumbled she loved me when I carefully lowered her semiconscious naked body onto her bed.

I realize that finding the perfect person isn’t going to be easy for me because I’m a lot to take,” she says, “but I’m not going to change just so that I’m more datable.

I used to wonder what it felt like to stand in the middle of a cyclone, a tornado, at the epicenter of an earthquake. Once or twice, when Tyler had bruised my feelings without any awareness of it, I would think, These emotions are tiny. Imagine standing right there when the entire Earth rumbles. I wonder whether what’s happening inside me is simply a smaller version of a tropical storm: everything is being blown around and upended.

It isn’t just that he’s good-looking. It isn’t only that he’s kind. It’s his calm center that’s a gravitational pull to my chaotic one. Every time I’ve met his eyes—from that first puke-filled night to now—I’ve felt a gentle hum inside my breastbone: I’m a satellite that’s found its safe-space beacon

And honestly, the only way to avoid this conversation is to stand when System of a Down comes on, and pretend I am very, very excited to hear all of their songs that I’m not even sure I know. I close my eyes, and for just fifteen minutes, I try to push out all of these emotions. I dance away the feeling that I’m trying to talk myself into being attracted to Tyler.