A Quote by Maureen Johnson
The truth was that she had managed to betray everyone by doing nothing. No one in history had ever done less and yet been so wrong. Not cheating on a non-boyfriend with the non-boyfriend of a friend. The pressure of thinking that one through made her swollen body ache.
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I could hear hopefulness in her voice, but also doubt. She was waiting for me to admit the obvious: I'd forgotten. I was toast. I was boyfriend roadkill. Just because I forgot, you shouldn't take that as a sign I didn't care about Annabeth. Seriously, the last month with her had been awesome. I was the luckiest demigod ever. But a special dinner... when had I mentioned that? Maybe I'd said it after Annabeth kissed me, which had sort of sent me into a fog. Maybe a Greek gos had disguised himself as me as and made her that promise as a prank. Or maybe I was just a rotten boyfriend.
Why did everyone think I needed a new boyfriend? I didn't need a new boyfriend. I'd had enough of boyfriends to last a lifetime. The only thing a boyfriend was good for was a shattered heart.
She suddenly understood why she had let him kiss her in the diner, why she had wanted him at all. She wanted to control him. He was every arrogant boyfriend that had treated her mother badly. He was every boy that told her she was too freaky, who had laughed at her, or just wanted her to shut up and make out. He was a thousand times less real than Roiben.
How do you introduce boyfriend C to boyfriend A after boyfriend A has been such a good sport, of late, about boyfriend B, who is no longer in the picture?
Anxiety was not an emotion I could ever remember feeling when I went out in New York, and I wondered why tonight felt so different. Maybe it was because I no longer had a boyfriend or fiance. I suddenly recognized that there was safety in having someone, as well as a lack of pressure to shine. Ironically, this had cultivated a certain free-spiritedness that had, in turn, allowed me to be the life of the party and hoard the affection of additional men....But that had all changed. I didn't have a boyfriend, a perfect figure, or alcohol-induced outrageousness to fall back on.
The guy behind the counter had been seriously adorable. Model-level cute. She had mentioned that, and Allan, her then boyfriend, hadn't taken it well. That's when she'd learned that male egos and fruit had a lot in common: Both bruised easily.
A certain something, he felt, had managed to work its way in through a tiny opening and was trying to fill a blank space inside him. The void was not one that she had made. It had always been there inside him. She had merely managed to shine a special light on it.
We linked hands—my ex-boyfriend, my boyfriend, and my former friend-then-enemy-then friend and I—and walked through a door to see if maybe empty carbs were good for something after all.
No one in history had ever done less and yet been so wrong.
If you’re the girl that needs a boyfriend, and once she loses that boyfriend needs to replace it with a different boyfriend, it’s just this constant stream of boyfriends all the time. I don’t feel like I ever want to be that girl. I want to be the girl that when she falls in love, it’s a big deal and it’s a rare thing.
When her muzzle grew more white than brown, the chipmunk forgot that she and the squirrel had had nothing to talk about. She forgot the definition of "jazz" as well and came to think of it as every beautiful thing she had ever failed to appreciate: the taste of warm rain; the smell of a baby; the din of a swollen river, rushing past her tree and onward to infinity.
My sister had her own room. She also had innumerable boyfriends. I had a yo-yo collection that was beyond belief, and the reason I had it was mostly that I would stand in the doorway of the living room watching her and her boyfriend. Finally she caught on how to get this kid out of the way. Give him a yo-yo!
You could be going to have supper with someone who happens to be male, and all of a sudden he is your boyfriend of nine months... and I am cheating on my existing boyfriend.
I went through times of self-hate, thinking how undeveloped spiritual I was. Everyone else in the ashram, a thousand people, nobody had a girlfriend or boyfriend. I did.
I found her lying on her stomach, her hind legs stretched out straight, and her front feet folded back under her chest. She had laid her head on his grave. I saw the trail where she had dragged herself through the leaves. The way she lay there, I thought she was alive. I called her name. She made no movement. With the last ounce of strength in her body, she had dragged herself to the grave of Old Dan.
I know quickly whether a guy is boyfriend material. If I can have a good time doing absolutely nothing with him, then that's boyfriend material for me. Like if we're able to have fun at a gas station. I've had some really good times at gas stations.
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