the secret that is keeping the stars apart

shirelle is my name.

Kenny Leon, Phylicia Rashad star in ‘Same Time, Next Year’ (2014)

The fresh, touching, and hilariously funny story of lovers Doris (Phylicia Rashad) and George (Kenny Leon), married – to other people – who meet by chance while on separate business trips in 1951. The pair vow to rendezvous each year in the same place, and end up finding a connection that transcends the initial spark of passion to span a quarter of a century’s worth of love, loss, joy, conflict, but ultimately a common ground that sustains their unique friendship. Same Time, Next Year is a delicious tryst about the complexities of human relationships and the phenomenon of love.

(Source: midniwithmaddy, via fuckyeahgreatplays)

We aren’t cowards. We aren’t liars. We’re just two people who are not in love right now.
Help yourself to whatever you like with whomever you like but don’t get married without me.


"Suppose all ya ever had for breakfast was onion rolls. Now, all of a sudden, one morning in walks a bagel! So I mean, you take a look at it and you say, ‘What is that?’ Until you tried it! And that’s my trouble. I’m a bagel on a plate full of onion rolls. Nobody recognizes me!"

(via desireearmfeldt)

I was told the average girl begins to plan her wedding at the age of 7. She picks the colors and the cake first.

By the age of 10 she knows time, and location.

By 17 she’s already chosen a gown, 2 bridesmaids and a maid of honor.

By 23 she’s waiting for a man who wont break out in hives when he hears the word “commitment”, someone who doesn’t smell like a Band-Aid drenched in lonely, someone who isn’t a temporary solution to the empty side of the bed, someone who’ll hold her hand like it’s the only one they’ve ever seen.

To be honest, I don’t know what kind of tux I’ll be wearing, I have no clue what my wedding will look like.

But I imagine the women who pins my last to hers will butterfly down the aisle like a 5 foot promise.

I imagine her smile will be so large that you’ll see it on google maps, and know exactly where our wedding is being held.

The woman that I plan to marry will have champagne in her walk, and I will get drunk on her footsteps.

When the pastor asks if I take this woman to be my wife, I will say yes before he finishes the sentence. I’ll apologize later for being impolite but I will also explain him that our first kiss happened 6 years ago and I’ve been practicing my “Yes” for past 2, 165 days.

When people ask me about my wedding I never really know what to say, but when they ask me about my future wife I always tell them her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long. I say she thinks too much, misses her father, loves to laugh, and she’s terrible at lying because her face never figured out how to do it correctly.

I tell them if my alarm clock sounded like her voice, my snooze button would collect dust. I tell them if she came in a bottle I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys. If she was a book, I would memorize her table of contents. I would read her cover-to-cover, hoping to find typos, just so we can both have a few things to work on.

Because aren’t we all unfinished? Don’t we all need a little editing Aren’t we all waiting to be proofread by someone? Aren’t we all praying they will tell us that we make sense? She don’t always make sense, but her imperfections are the things I love about her the most.

I don’t know when I will be married. I don’t know where I will be married but I do know this, whenever I’m asked about my future wife— I always say: …She’s a lot like you.

—Rudy Francisco (via creatingaquietmind)

(Source: katcossio, via drspinster)

The years between eighteen and twenty-eight are the hardest, psychologically. It’s then you realize this is make or break, you no longer have the excuse of youth, and it is time to become an adult – but you are not ready.

—Helen Mirren (via tropicalrainstorm)

(Source: omybestbeloved, via drspinster)

He’s not exactly beautiful, but she kisses him anyway. He’s not exactly attractive, but she takes him home anyway. She kisses him because his smile is a hundred times more real than all the gorgeous guys she’s kissed, and it lights up his not so beautiful face. She takes him home because he’s got a certain energy, a certain intensity, a certain goodness, a certain something that just drives her irrevocably insane. She kisses him again one fateful night and realizes that though his insides turn hers inside out, his outside isn’t doing it for hers. She wonders why she can’t see past his crooked nose and fucked up teeth, and she hates herself for being such a shallow shit. But she kisses him again - she kisses him one last time. She kisses him so she’ll remember what kissing a beautiful man feels like the next time she kisses a pretty one.

—(via orlansky)

(via orlansky)