Sheathes & Herondale

I’m reblogging Playboy. Somebody stop me. 

Even Playboy wants men to stop screaming at women on the street. When the pinnacle of female objectification is telling you you’re being a sexist pig, maybe for real you’re being a sexist pig. (I mean, women have been telling you you’re a sexist pig for catcalling for a long time, but then again, they’re *women* so their opinions don’t count. Now a magazine for men has acknowledged it so LISTEN UP.)

Even Playboy wants men to stop screaming at women on the street.  That needed to be repeated.  Even Playboy.

it doesn’t happen all at once it happens slowly like a flood water rising cautiously a quiet rebellion spilling over enemy lines with a vengeance minute by minute, you feel it the gravitational pull on your body moving you further and further apart your mother says that you will find your way back to him, but you are not so sure it does not happen all at once it happens like the continents drifting apart a few centimeters per year it happens so slowly you can’t even see it until it is too late until the love waltzing in the ball room of your chest goes quiet and everyone stops dancing he grabs your hand and asks you to go someplace quiet you don’t go with him you stay silent your heart is a still drum he takes your pulse with his teeth tells you he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so suddenly it doesn’t happen all at once remember that, even when he tries to convince you that things were fine the day before tell him that the earth is moving microscopic distances as you speak that neither of you are in the same place that you were yesterday