Ok but along the lines of grumpy firefighter Bradley since maybe he hasn’t had many intimate romantic relationships, what if he makes her feel insecure on accident and now man has to grovel

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝟏𝟓 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

When you first started dating Bradley, you thought that there were exactly two (count them: two) women he liked - you and Natasha. Other than that, Bradley wasn’t interested. Honestly, it kind of made you prideful. Bradley’s very attractive, a fact that’s obvious to everyone but him, and it sometimes makes you hold his hand a little tighter whenever the two of you in public and that barista at the coffee shop has been smiling at him a little too long.

But Bradley isn’t interested. He doesn’t even try to be polite, shooting any woman who approaches him a simple “do you mind?” look and his aura is so intimidating that most don’t even try. He’s not exactly mean about it, he just doesn’t really like people, especially people he doesn’t know. So yeah, it’s comforting to know that Bradley doesn’t entertain any woman flirting with him—it’s just unfortunate that you often feel like one of those women.

When it’s just the two of you, he’s perfect. He plays into your antics for kisses and cuddles and is just so sweet and thoughtful. But when you’re not together, it’s almost like it’s out of sight out of mind. He doesn’t text you and barely responds to yours. In public, it’s little things, like letting go of your hand to gesture something when his other one is perfectly free. 

You try to tell yourself that this is probably new for him, but you’re not exactly a trained veteran either and yet you manage to make an effort with your relationship with Bradley—regardless of where you are. 

You can’t help but wonder if he even wants to be in a relationship with you. Maybe he just felt bad about everything and got caught up in the moment. Maybe he never intended for the two of you to go anywhere and now he’s stuck. 

The thought makes you sick and, as a result, you decide to cancel your date with Bradley tonight. It’s petty, you know, but you’ve gotten yourself mad at him and you don’t really want to see him. He’d probably be happy about it anyway, gives him the opportunity to do something he actually wants to do.

Which is why it does surprise you a tad when he shows up uninvited with a bag of Chinese take-out.

You recover quickly, resting your hip against the door frame as if to close Bradley off from entering your place. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” Bradley looks at you like it’s obvious. “You said you weren’t feeling well, I thought we could just do something chill instead. Is that a problem?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to see you,” you scoff, turning back into your apartment and swinging the door closed behind you. You know that you’re being harsh, but you hate feeling this way and taking it out on Bradley (which he deserves just a little bit) is honestly easier.

Bradley catches the door before it closes, following you into your apartment. “Is there a reason you’re giving me an attitude? Because I thought that we could still have a nice night together, unless you had other plans?” His tone is so condescending that you want to rip your hair out and you roll your eyes.

“Really, Bradley? You really think I’m the one who’s working against our relationship?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bradley challenges, setting down the take-out to cross his arms.

“You know you could have texted me that you were coming over,” you narrow your eyes, huffing at the fact that Bradley’s about as dense as a brick when it comes to expressing his emotions to people—but, then again, maybe in this instance so were you. “Or text me, like, ever. Or hold my hand instead of me always holding yours. Or do anything that makes me feel secure in our relationship. Maybe I canceled on you because I didn’t want to spend our whole date convincing everybody that I’m your girlfriend because you act like you don’t even want one!”

The words ring out in your living room but your underlying message is clear. You act like you don’t even want me.

You let out a breath, ignoring the tears pricking at your waterline and instead grabbing the hoodie you’d left discarded on the couch. It’s Bradley’s—and that fact stings a little bit—but you just purse your lips, bringing it to your chest with a heavy sigh.

“I’m tired,” you say finally. “And I don’t feel that good, and I don’t really want to see you right now.” You turn to start heading to your bedroom. “Enjoy your Chinese.”

You’ve shut the door of your bedroom before Bradley can even respond.

He doesn’t leave though—and maybe there’s a part of you who doesn’t want him to—you don’t hear the front door opening and closing again. Instead you hear the steady thumps of his shoes pacing for a couple minutes and then quiet.

“Can I come in?” He knocks gently.

You don’t answer but Bradley opens the door anyway, his eyes softening when they land on you curled up in your bed, hiding your face from him in his hoodie. You cross your arms and you’re sure your glare is pitiful with your puffy nose and red eyes but you glare at him anyway.

“Can we talk?” He asks quietly. “Or do you want more space?”

You look at him expectantly. 

Bradley nods. “Okay, I’ll talk.” He lets out a breath. “I’m… I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t really care about people like this and I forget that people care about me so— so I just treat you like everybody else when you’re different. And I know you’re different.” He pauses. “But I know that I should make sure you know that you’re different and I haven’t been doing that. So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to take you out and flirt with you in front of our waitress and give you my jacket and— I don’t know, I should have paid more attention when you force me to watch rom coms— But date shit. I want to do date shit with you. Because you’re my girlfriend.”

You smile shyly when he finishes. “You wanna do date shit with me?”

“I want to do so much date shit with you, kitty,” Bradley confirms.

You grin, holding your arms out and Bradley walks into them wordlessly, wrapping you up in a bear hug that seems to say everything he can’t quite manage to with words yet.

“For the record,” he says suddenly, words slightly muffled by your hair. “I like holding your hand. Even when they get sweaty.”

“My hands do not get sweaty!”

“Yes they do, it’s like holding onto a slip n slide.”

“Bradley!—”

“A slip n slide that I love.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but laugh. “Nice save.”

Barbra Streisand as Judy Maxwell in "What's Up Doc?" icons

like if you save or use

What’s Bugs Bunny’s catchphrase? Daffy Duck couldn’t remember that, or any other pertinent facts about his “bestie.” This assured their game show defeat and a most uncomfortable car ride home. From “Best Friends,” the first episode of “The Looney Tunes Show.” 

FOUR FAVORITES with Nathan Stewart-Jarrett

RIP Ryan O'Neal

Barry Lyndon remains my all time favorite movie.

OH MY GOD, I was not prepared for David and Michael to both list What's Up Doc as their favourite romantic comedy 😍💕😭😭

(spoilers in video for GO2)

Dear Dad... Three (s2 e9): Hawkeye writes a third letter to his father describing a bigoted soldier, a live grenade in the OR, and home movies for Henry.

What's Up, Doc? (s6 e20): Hawkeye conducts a rabbit test on Radar's bunny to find out if Margaret is pregnant, and a patient desperate to get home holds Winchester hostage.

Ok but 5 rounds and a run w/ Bradley 👀👀👀

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝟏𝟓 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

You can’t feel your legs. Or much else of your body actually. You think your soul might have left you at one point, probably somewhere in between the third and fourth orgasm. 

You let your back drop against the mattress with a gasp of air. Five. Bradley had gone five rounds. You had gone five rounds. A glance down your naked, perspired body shows that your thighs are still shaking—you honestly hadn’t realized that because you still can’t feel them. The chill of the air in the room makes you whimper with discomfort, but you don’t even have the energy to try to pull the blankets over you.

“Hey.” Bradley appears back into the room with a wet cloth in his hand. He’s fully dressed down, in a plain t-shirt and basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. He makes his way over to you quickly, sitting down at the edge of the bed and gently setting one of your feet in his lap. “You feeling alright?” He teases as he moves to clean up the mess between your thighs.

You wince slightly at the sensitivity and Bradley lessens his pressure. “That would imply I still have the ability to feel.”

“That good, huh?”

“My body feels like Jello,” you complain.

“You’re sayin’ that like it’s a bad thing.” Bradley finishes his wipe down of your body, getting up to grab you one of his shirts and a pair of your underwear, he keeps in one of his drawers. You barely manage to lift your hips when he taps one of them, sliding your underwear onto you, and he basically has to manhandle your body for you to get his shirt over your head. “But I’d say you were having a pretty good time.”

You only give an unamused hum in response, too tired for anything else as Bradley helps get you under the blankets with a kiss to your forehead. It takes you a second to realize that he’s not also getting into bed with you, but instead heading to the door, and you frown.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh,” Bradley freezes, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m going for a run.”

That wakes you up and you look at him incredulously. “A run?”

“Yeah, I’m still, uh,” he makes some motions you can’t understand. “...a little pent up, so…” You glance down to find that he is, his length still half hard against his shorts.

“How are you not tired after that?” You’re almost a little offended. Sure, you came a couple more times than he did, but you’d think that pulling five orgasms out of you and getting two of his own would be enough for him.

Bradley has the audacity to shrug. “I’m just gonna run the rest of it off. Maybe take a cold shower or something.” As if that’s where he thinks the conversation should end, he starts heading to the door again.

“If you do not get over here and cuddle me right now, I swear to god, Bradley.”

There must be something in your tone of voice because he comes back to bed wordlessly, sliding under the blankets with you.

“You don’t just pull five orgasms from a woman—and make her ride your fucking face—and then leave her to go on a run,” you continue, crossing your arms as he gets comfortable on the mattress.

Bradley nods in understanding, before a smirk overtakes his face. “Do I ask her if she wants to ride my face again?— Ow!”

You lay your head on the spot you’ve just whacked Bradley, closing your eyes and pulling the blankets up over your shoulder.

“No, you let her sleep and you order food for her when she wakes up—preferably with a Gatorade. And if you’re really that pent up… you jerk off in the shower or something, I don’t know.”

“Got it,” Bradley laughs, threading his fingers through your hair to scratch your scalp gently. You feel the mattress shift as he reaches to grab his phone. “How do you feel about burgers, kitty?”

Barbra Streisand as Doris in "The Owl and the Pussycat" icons

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The Bachelor and The Bobbysoxer or The Happiest Millionaire

Hi!

So, I'm going to go with The Bachelor and the BobbySoxer, cause A- I'm more familiar with it, and B- it's my absolute favourite movie, so anyone who loves that movie, loves me ; )

Anyway, going into the movie, I loved that the premise is incredibly absurd but incredibly satirical at the same time, because of how relevant relationships with age gaps are today and in that era, and I think that's what the recent American Fiction tried to do, but with race. I also liked that one of the film's core message is the power of charisma- so, in two instances of the film, both sisters envision Cary Grant's character Richard Nugent as a knight in shining armour, but with two different goals- the younger sister Susan, played by Shirley Temple, is taken in by Nugent's voice and his charisma as a renowned "artist", while Margaret, Myrna Loy's character, is taken in, but only after she has experienced Richard as a person (after a conversation on her porch with him detailing that he was earnest and not flirting with her and his attempts to win the overall race for her sister's sake) and not as a troublemaker/criminal. I may be wrong about that last part, but again, it's a moral that charisma is a very powerful tool and you must read it the right way.

I think the jokes have aged well, I love Cary Grant being paired with women his age, and I may come across as offensive for saying this, but when I watch him acting across women who were younger than him (like Audrey Hepburn, Eve Marie-Saint, Deborah Kerr to name a few), I personally cringe. But I also like when the story's self-aware of this age difference and that Cary Grant was aware of this too (?). I really wished that Cary and Myrna had more romantic scenes besides their dance, and those scenes were in their last collaboration Mr. Blandings Builds his Dream House, released the following year.

Personal afterthoughts- I loved the sibling relationship between Myrna and Shirley, it was a little of the opposite of Gilmore Girls, if I'm being honest; the "you remind me of a man" audience-participation game; Rudy Vallhee as Tommy, a man who rather aggressively courts Myrna's Margaret, a big change from the man he portrays in The Palm Beach Story (1942); and the fact that it's very much a screwball comedy, that you can watch it over and over again, like What's Up Doc? (1971), Bringing Up Baby (1938), and The Philadelphia Story (1940/41).

Well, those are my thoughts. thank you so much for the ask. : )

Ryan O'Neal references his previous movie in the most hysterical way. 😆

Barbra Streisand and Ryan O'Neal in What's Up, Doc? (Peter Bogdanovich, 1972)

Cast: Barbra Streisand, Ryan O’Neal, Madeline Kahn, Kenneth Mars, Austin Pendleton, Michael Murphy. Screenplay: Buck Henry, David Newman, Robert Benton, Peter Bogdanovich. Cinematography: László Kovács. Production design: Polly Platt. Film editing: Verna Fields. Music: Artie Butler.

Peter Bodganovich's What's Up, Doc? is a tribute to the masters of screwball comedy,  Howard Hawks and Preston Sturges especially, but also the ones who made worthy contributions like Gregory La Cava, George Stevens, Mitchell Leisen, and Frank Capra. Bogdanovich followed a few of the rules of the genre: One, get stars who usually played it straight to make fools of themselves. Two, make use of as many comic character actors as you can stuff into the film. Three, never pretend that the world the film is taking place in is the "real world." Four, never, ever let the pace slacken -- if your characters have to kiss or confess, make it snappy. On the first point, Bogdanovich found the closest equivalents to Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (or Clark Gable, Joel McCrea, James Stewart on the one hand, Rosalind Russell, Claudette Colbert, Jean Arthur on the other) that he could among the stars of his day. Ryan O'Neal was coming off the huge success of the weepy Love Story (Arthur Hiller, 1970) and a five-year run on TV's Peyton Place, and Barbra Streisand had won an Oscar for Funny Girl (William Wyler, 1968). O'Neal is no Cary Grant: His timing is a little off and he overdoes a single exasperated look, but he makes a suitable patsy. But has Streisand ever been more likable in the movies? She plays the dizzy troublemaker with relish, capturing the essence of Bugs Bunny -- the other inspiration for the movie -- to the point that you almost expect her to turn to the camera and say, "Ain't I a stinker?" As to the second point, we no longer have character actors of the caliber of Eugene Pallette, Franklin Pangborn, or William Demarest, but Bogdanovich recruited some of the best of his day: Kenneth Mars, Austin Pendleton, Michael Murphy, and others, and introduced moviegoers to the sublime Madeline Kahn. And he set it all in the ever-picturesque San Francisco, while making sure no one would confuse the movie version with the real thing, including a chase sequence up and down its hills that follows no possible real-world path. And he kept the pace up with gags involving bit players: the pizza maker so distracted by Streisand that he spins his dough up to the ceiling, the banner-hanger and the guys moving a sheet of glass, the waiter who enters a room with a tray of drinks but takes one look at the chaos there and turns right around, the guy laying a cement sidewalk that's run over so many times by the car chase that he flings down his trowel and jumps up and down on his mutilated handiwork. This is comic gold of a sort we don't often see -- and, sadly, never saw again from Bogdanovich, whose career collapsed disastrously with a string of flops in the mid-1970s.  

Snow day today 👍🏻

The M.D. in Me | Explained 🤷‍♀️

People have their reasons. Some people's psych behaves as it does because they've been traumatized in ways that don't show, ways that are hidden deep within their minds and hearts.

Their deeply-rooted fears (from any time in their life; childhood specifically) are possibly being expressed through their social behaviors (ie: blocking people who make them feel threatened; haters and bullies, or virtual stalkers who won't leave them alone.)

How they react could very well be an automatic coping mechanism in response to their fears being triggered by their interaction with a person. For instance, if a little girl's dad left when she was seven years old, she learned that love leaves. She learned to cope with that loss by not being the one to leave, but by pushing people away before they had the chance to leave her.

In that childhood, trauma-induced state of mind, she learned to behave that way from the time she was a young girl.

Without unlearning the trauma -- or her response to the trauma -- her response became her norm. And in that "norm" transpired the repetitive behaviors she identified with...pushing people away before it was too late. Her thinking was rational to her. Her thinking was her coping mechanism. It was her self-protection method. A method she never unlearned. It was her safety net. And it worked.

In retrospect, one can understand the psyche of this little girl was damaged and traumatized by her dad's abandonment. What began as a little girl's coping mechanism in response to losing her dad evolved into her personal, adulthood responses to any threat she ever felt in any other relationship ever. Her intent wasn't to seem "unhinged" or to be judged by people who didn't understand her life or her pain or her coping mechanism, but her intent was to just...survive...another day...without being crushed by the weight and the chains of the past. Maybe, in essence, it was HER escape that she needed all along. To escape and heal from the trauma that she endured so long ago.

No one knows what a person's state of mind or heart is or what they've been through that leads them to the decisions they make, or how their reasoning applies, but it does, and their validation is just as worthy to be had as people who want to vote republican or move to...Russia. I'm just sayin'. Also, people can do what they want.

Don't be the type of person who makes someone want to cut you out of their life. There's that.

Don't be the reason someone's childhood trauma memory is triggered because you treated them in such a way that triggered it.

Instead, try showing them true love by practicing thoughtful, well-treatment. You won't be getting "cut out" then.

A post wants to throw shade at the people doing the "cutting out"...but let's shed some light on the people who provoke them.