Dating is a man-made ideology: if having a lover was a prerequisite to living, one would either be in a relationship, or, six feet under.

When ready to settle down: women are more interested in where the man is going; men are more interested in where the woman has been.

There is a correlation between one’s estimation of the odds of finding a new lover who is, at the least, of the same standard as they one they’re currently in a dead relationship with, and, their attempting to revive a dead relationship.

The question is not whether or not someone in your life is using you, but how are they using you.

Every relationship is, to each party, ultimately about them.

You are sometimes the person who someone who seems, to you, to feel like killing themselves, feels like killing.

A friend is way less likely than a boyfriend or girlfriend to make us pretend to be someone we are not; or that our family is a good family, or way better, or way less crazy or dysfunctional than it actually is.

The very same woman to whom some men would kill to make love, some man is—or some men are—bored to death of fucking.

Some people each left their spouse or lover because he or she was no longer the primary source of their happiness; some, because their spouse or lover was, at that time, the primary source of their unhappiness.