2. You want to say Hi to the cute girl on the subway. How will she react? Fortunately, I can tell you with some certainty, because she’s already sending messages to you. Looking out the window, reading a book, working on a computer, arms folded across chest, body away from you = do not disturb. So, y’know, don’t disturb her. Really. Even to say that you like her hair, shoes, or book. A compliment is not always a reason for women to smile and say thank you. You are a threat, remember? You are Schrödinger’s Rapist. Don’t assume that whatever you have to say will win her over with charm or flattery. Believe what she’s signaling, and back off.

    If you speak, and she responds in a monosyllabic way without looking at you, she’s saying, “I don’t want to be rude, but please leave me alone.” You don’t know why. It could be “Please leave me alone because I am trying to memorize Beowulf.” It could be “Please leave me alone because you are a scary, scary man with breath like a water buffalo.” It could be “Please leave me alone because I am planning my assassination of a major geopolitical figure and I will have to kill you if you are able to recognize me and blow my cover.”

    On the other hand, if she is turned towards you, making eye contact, and she responds in a friendly and talkative manner when you speak to her, you are getting a green light. You can continue the conversation until you start getting signals to back off.

    The fourth point: If you fail to respect what women say, you label yourself a problem.

    There’s a man with whom I went out on a single date—afternoon coffee, for one hour by the clock—on July 25th. In the two days after the date, he sent me about fifteen e-mails, scolding me for non-responsiveness. I e-mailed him back, saying, “Look, this is a disproportionate response to a single date. You are making me uncomfortable. Do not contact me again.” It is now October 7th. Does he still e-mail?

    Yeah. He does. About every two weeks.

    This man scores higher on the threat level scale than Man with the Cockroach Tattoos. (Who, after all, is guilty of nothing more than terrifying bad taste.) You see, Mr. E-mail has made it clear that he ignores what I say when he wants something from me. Now, I don’t know if he is an actual rapist, and I sincerely hope he’s not. But he is certainly Schrödinger’s Rapist, and this particular Schrödinger’s Rapist has a probability ratio greater than one in sixty. Because a man who ignores a woman’s NO in a non-sexual setting is more likely to ignore NO in a sexual setting, as well.

    So if you speak to a woman who is otherwise occupied, you’re sending a subtle message. It is that your desire to interact trumps her right to be left alone. If you pursue a conversation when she’s tried to cut it off, you send a message. It is that your desire to speak trumps her right to be left alone. And each of those messages indicates that you believe your desires are a legitimate reason to override her rights.

    For women, who are watching you very closely to determine how much of a threat you are, this is an important piece of data.


    an excerpt from Phaedra Starling’s “Schrödinger’s Rapist: or a guy’s guide to approaching strange women without being maced” (via lostgrrrls)

    women being afraid of Shrodinger’s Rapists (oh my god i still can’t get over the encompassing brilliance of this phrase) is a conditioned, learned response from being immersed in rape culture and the evolution of sexism and sexual violence in our society from the day we’re born. And unfortunately, it’s very difficult to unlearn without the efforts of all genders to dismantle it. Which is where you come in.

    (via 5000letters)

    (via appreciatebutts)


  3. (Source: 2000ish, via chilli-e)



  5. Hell is when people you love the most reach right into your soul and rip it out of you. And they do it because they can.
    — Jess Rothenberg, The Catastrophic History of You and Me (via seelengekritzel)

    (Source: larmoyante, via beauti-mous)


  6. There are just some things I could never tell you.

    You had my words on a plate and you didn’t read them. And you don’t know how hard it is for me to give someone my words, freely… my raw and drafted words for your eyes, eagerly anticipating the day you’d acknowledge them.

    You said you would but that’s not enough.

    Please understand why I can never be close enough to you, no matter how much I want to. You will never understand.



  8. Feel so overwhelmed lately with the work load..
    Just one thing on top of another. Everything keeps piling up and up and I get it all done only so it piles up again. I don’t know. I love being busy. I love writing, too, but I don’t get much time for it anymore. It’s been a while since I’ve been awake at three in the morning, alone with my thoughts.

    What’s the point of sleeping when I know I’ll probably have another nightmare. Rather be productive and keep busy. I don’t know. Lately I’ve just been going around in circles with what could’ve been, what should’ve been, what it will be.. Maybe I’m just extremely exhausted and irrational but usually thoughts like that - bad thoughts, strange thoughts, unbearable thoughts - slip through my fingers like sand.
    But it seems they’re clinging on to me for some time and I don’t know how to feel about that. Or how to deal with it. Do I confront this or turn a blind eye?

    It’s three in the morning and the sky is beautiful. I love the silence at three. It is like nothing else I’ve ever heard. I can hear everything and nothing all at once. I can hear myself breathe in and exhale out. Sometimes I forget to breathe.

    Three is my time of the night.


  9. Here’s a confession: I’m not a great writer. I’m a great rewriter. I think of all of the things that went wrong with us and I think, I could do it so much better this time.
    — Stuck in Love (2012)

    (Source: lightfilledcorners, via black-hell)


  10. I love you so much, but this is where I am now, and this is who I am now, and I need you to let me go. As much as I want to, I can’t live in your book anymore.
    — Her (2013)

    (Source: splitterherzen, via mmelancholia)