Dating You _ Hating You - Christina Lauren - PDF Free Download
This book — The Rules — was what the movie, He's Just Not That Into You was based on. The term “You are not the exception” is referring to. Praise for the Beautiful and Wild Seasons series by New York Times and #1 international bestselling author CHRISTINA LAUREN “Full of expertly drawn ch. Dating doesn't have to be nerve-wracking, but it does require preparation. You must do some up-front soul searching to make sure you're ready to be honest.
Did it say why? Brad has held our Features department retreat in Big Bear the same week every November for as long as anyone can remember. A house with a porch, and a Craftsman door, and a knocker that tells you a little something about the people inside. Maybe a copper gargoyle. I am a terrible adult. I glance at my black robe, at the burgundy-andyellow tie, at the wand in my hand, and wonder why I ever agreed to this.
And it takes some bravery, let me tell you, to come here alone, dressed like a teenage Hogwarts character. At least with Daryl at my side that outcome would be funny, and we could drink and tease each other about how we ended up here on a Friday night. I lift the knocker with some effort—using both hands. The sound reverberates in the tiny brick courtyard and for a single, terrifying heartbeat the giant cherub wings wobble on their hinges as if they might crash to the ground.
Jumping back, I notice the perfectly normal doorbell on the outside wall: Steph steps forward, bringing a waft of her Prada perfume with her. With a graceful, manicured hand, she stills what is obviously, in hindsight, a metal door decoration. We used to work together at the Alterman Agency when I was a young, shiny new agent and she was an intern. I spy a table in the corner with an artful arrangement of Red Bull cans and a selection of fancy vodkas.
And oh my God!
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You are so great for coming alone. My brave little Evie! The sound you heard? The one that sounded a little like tires screeching? That was my confidence, coming to a standstill just inside the door. I look around at an assortment of expectant faces wearing polite smiles, waiting for introductions. A friendly looking redhead dressed as Ariel, with her arm around the waist of a tall Hispanic Prince Eric.
An aloof brunette dressed as a vampire, whispering something to her vampire boyfriend. It just ended up that way! This is an open-minded group, and I am a strong female choosing to embrace her independence and attend a party alone. Nothing to feel out of place about here.
But then she steers me past the main cluster of guests and parks me at the Red Bull—and-vodka table. She looks at me with a dramatic little pout. Tyler—the Broadway actor I signed in March? I basically spent the day in a Child Sensory Training and Integration seminar where babies play with cooked pasta in giant plastic bins for seven hundred dollars an hour.
A group of tiny women in white jeans with their perfectly dressed, smudge-free children staring excitedly at giant bins of cooked noodles. But that is exactly how your brain gets corrupted in this town. Seven hundred dollars an hour to squish noodles in their chubby fists. These kids could have an awesome time playing with macaroni in their bathtub at home for a buck fifty. But I adore Tyler, and his landing the lead in Long Board was a huge coup for us both. The office cocktail hour with Ken Alterman—my old boss—was always an adventure.
I pull my phone out of my robe pocket, quickly texting Daryl. I am the only singleton.
It was a couples party? I would have faked diarrhea in traffic. Actually, that might have been more pleasant. With a mental groan, I glance covertly at the time before tucking my phone away again. I can stay for forty-five minutes, right?
That seems like a length that communicates, I value your friendship and am so glad I came! I feel like there should be a clear rule: With this decided, I inspect my vodka choices, pulling the most expensive one from an array of multicolored bottles. No way am I this lucky. His hair is dark, longer on top, and as I watch him bend to inspect some of the bottles, he pushes it back from his forehead.
The lightningbolt scar drawn on his forehead helps; that probably should have immediately tipped me off. The only two single people at this party and we match? I am small but my laugh is mighty. He stares at me with a slow-growing, amused grin. The cackle is my gift.
It keeps the delicate ones away. Carter is sort of dorky, despite being hot. The glasses look real, dark and thick-framed. Living in LA, and especially working in Hollywood, I meet beautiful people every day, even dated a few.
Carter is pretty in a distinctive way: His eyes are big, and lined with the darkest, thickest lashes. His jaw is sharp. With the thick frames of his glasses, his is an oblivious type of beauty. He needs a haircut. When he smiles, I see that his teeth are white but not perfectly straight. It makes him seem immediately friendly. And his imperfections are surprising in a sea of Invisalign, Botox, and selftanners. Not datable or gay: How do you know them?
Carter and I both struggle to make room for them amid the Red Bull. I slump my shoulders in mock defeat. Mikey and I knew the two of you would really hit it off. The two of you are like a match made in heaven, right? When Carter turns to me, we stare at each other for a wordless, stunned beat. They meet at a club after she— Katherine Heigl—gets a promotion. You are incredibly pretty, and obviously blessed with at least two enviable gifts, but sight unseen, nothing sounds worse than dating a fellow agent.
Dating someone in my business would be a disaster: Hollywood is an industry of almost forty thousand people, but its circles are small.
I feel uneasy not knowing which. I relax a little.
She must really like Wyatt. Most of my life—most of my socializing—is centered around work. And there I make myself seen when I need to raise the red flag or go to bat for my clients, but otherwise my job is best done from backstage.
A thought occurs to me: Daryl might even know him. Inside of me there are warring impulses: If he notices my silence, he rolls past it. Because we had that in Manhattan. I take a sip of my drink, looking out at the party around us.
I walked by later and he was eating it. So maybe he deserved it. Agents are notoriously gossipy. In some ways, sharing confidences to make inroads is part of the business. I keep it level.
I keep it up front. I get things done. And in general, I like to run in like-minded circles. Good agents can read people, instinctively put them at ease and get them talking, or remain discreet in every situation.
Great agents can seamlessly do all three.
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Our guards are up, our walls are high, and our bullshit meters are tuned to the most sensitive setting possible. It occurs to me, looking at him a little more closely, that Carter definitely keeps his cards close to his chest, yeah. But he also seems to have a really good hand. Atop his head, his hair reaches a campfire peak.
Michael growls, bending to inspect the damage. My internal clock refuses to give up being a New Yorker. The fridge in the apartment we shared in college was covered in pizza coupons and phone numbers; this one has a giant drawing of Big Bird and reminders about play dates.
Michael drops into the seat across from me and takes a sip of his coffee. Standing, I head for the ibuprofen I know is kept in the cupboard next to the sink—the medicine cabinet, they call it.
My mom has iodine. Michael and Steph have a threebedroom house on a quiet residential street. They have a mailbox with Evans whimsically hand-painted across the side, and a growth chart on the back of a closet door. They have a kid. When did he move past me on the Adult Achievement Scale? Maybe it was getting married or braving the real estate adventure that did it, or maybe it was becoming a dad. Either way, I could never ask, because as responsible as he and Steph have become, they both still consider themselves barely out of adolescence, and any mention to the contrary would lead to their insisting we crash a kegger or find the nearest rave.
And I, ironically, am definitely too old for that. With three brown Advil and a glass of water in hand, I return to the table and set it all in front of him. He mumbles his thanks and takes both the drugs and the glass, draining the water in one long drink. That kid is busier than I am. Steph and I had to move our party up. Evie seemed to be showing about as much skin as you were. You adorable Hogwartsers, you. I bend, taking another sip of my coffee.
In my peripheral vision, I see him try to pull off a casual shrug. I need a cool couple to hang out with, Carter. I like her enough, but.
Imagine Steph dating Steph. Have a little fun, see where it goes? We traded numbers, at least. Michael stands and stares out the window overlooking the driveway. As in my brother Jonah? The engine abruptly cuts off and the sudden silence makes my ears ring. We watch as the driver-side door opens and a pair of denim-clad legs emerge.
He was the artsy kid, the one with the camera around his neck who took photos of power lines and brick walls and depressing candid shots of people who seemed incapable of smiling. It was one of these photos that won him a scholarship to some elite arts academy senior year, but while everyone else was making plans for college, Jonah took his camera and a duffel bag and moved to LA. My mom never stops talking about him.
I saw that blurb about you in People last year. They might have had Red Bull and pot, but there was also a sangria bar, a tampon bouquet in the bathroom, and a pumping room cordoned off for nursing mothers.
I groan as soon as the words are out of his mouth. I scowl at him. You remember how hard she took it when you screwed things up with Gwen. Gwen Talbot was the first girl I fell in love with, and my mom adored her. Where most mothers might try to convince their twenty-four-year-old son he was too young to get serious, let alone engaged, I could practically see Mom naming her grandchildren whenever I brought Gwen home.
But Gwen and I were never on the same page. She wanted a quiet life in Long Island with a house and kids. I was working for an agent and living in a crappy apartment in the city so I could go to every show and meet every influential person in theater. The pay was terrible and the hours were even worse, and we ended our engagement after a year.
Jonah loves to push this particular bruise and looks pleased as he sits there and continues to drink his coffee. Jonah with his Range Rover and money and dragon tattoos. Jonah is an asshole. Just, the way she acted when you guys ended things. Seriously, why are you here? Jonah drains his mug and stands, letting his chair slide noisily against the floor. He leaves both the cup and the chair where they are. In TV-Literary, we represent an assortment of writers and creators, but very few actors.
Most of those land in features. Becca rattles off my schedule: That interview, it turned out, was with me. But despite our less-than-conventional beginning, things have never been weird between the two of us, or anything other than professional. Becca is amazing at her job, and in reality knows more about what goes on here than any of the partners do. Post-its stuck to my computer monitor.
40 Dating Tips I Gathered After Reading Ellen Fein’s The Rules | Thought Catalog
Give me an hour and check in again. The sounds of phones and the clicking of keys greet me as I walk down the gray-carpeted hall. The layout is long and narrow, with smaller individual offices bordering the exterior walls, and larger offices or executives on each end.
No, they—along with the interns—sit in an inner ring of long tables creating a shared workspace. That way everything feels like a team effort, rather than individuals cast adrift without support.
My relationship with Brad Kingman has always been delicate. Busy people are important. You want to be important. Even if you are not busy, pretend like you are. This is not lying. Only tell your therapist or your dog everything about them. When it comes to intimacy, stand your ground. They will respect you.
If bad things happen, stay emotionally cool. The future ball is in his court to bring up. Let him be a man. Bossy can come off as jealous or insecure. The ball should always be in his court. He knows what to do with his balls. Give him his balls. Always have something to do. Bored people are boring. Feelings are heavy and nobody wants those so shut up and suck it up.
You are the happiest, calmest person alive. Nothing can get in your way. Your life is so great that he wants to put himself in it, and he will. Sometimes it is better to be lonely than rejected.
Even then, you have netflix. You are unlike anyone else. Past relationships are in your rearview mirror. Your future is through your windshield. Your windshield is bigger for a reason. The person who talks the most has the most to lose. Sympathy is stupid so stop trying to get it. There is a reason why liars are lonely.