“The intimacy of…
Eye contact. Smirks across a crowded room. Raised eye-brows. Knowing glances. Witty banter. "I heard this song and thought of you." The sides of legs accidentally touching in the backseat. Dancing in front of strangers. Playful teas-ing. "I saved you a seat." Comfortable silences. Quiet time. Falling asleep together on the couch. "I'm so sorry." Hope. The little things. Inside jokes. Appreciation. Mutual trust. "You're my best friend." Crying in the car alone at a red light. Heart-to-hearts in dive bar bathrooms. Giving the benefit of the doubt. Giving a second chance. Giving in to a deep laugh. "I was literally just about to call you, too." Sharing books with your scribbles and notes throughout the margins. Losing your footing. "I never told another person that before." First hugs. A kiss you know will be your last. "I understand." A sense of safety. A feeling of alignment. Just knowing someone is here to stay, even though you have no real evidence for thinking so. Believing they will anyway.”
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We run out of things to tell each other. We share second and even third-tier stories we'd never bother other people with. Those minutiae calcify into the bones of our intimacy.
-- Jac Jemc, The Grip of It
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“In the war film, a soldier can hold his buddy—as long as his buddy is dying on the battlefield. In the western, Butch Cassidy can wash the Sundance Kid’s naked flesh—as long as it is wounded. In the boxing film, a trainer can rub the well-developed torso and sinewy back of his protege—as long as it is bruised. In the crime film, a mob lieutenant can embrace his boss like a lover—as long as he is riddled with bullets.
Violence makes the homo-eroticism of many “male” genres invisible; it is a structural mechanism of plausible deniability.”
–Tarantino’s Incarnational Theology: Reservoir Dogs, Crucifixions, and Spectacular Violence. Kent L. Brintnall.
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Savannah Brown, from Closer Baby Closer; “Retroactive jealousy”
[Text ID: “Someday I’ll care for something / without wanting to close a door behind it.”]
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There are lines of yours I know by heart. There are scents of yours soaked in my skin.
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consistency, tenderness, reciprocated love.
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Intimacy is not who you let touch you. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back on your mind, no matter how distracted you are.
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“People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is "You're safe with me" —that's intimacy.”
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not to be a horny but i think we should hold hands and go on museum dates together ♡
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Taylor Jenkins Reid, Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo
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