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It's all in her walk, a cartoon swagger. Part Jayne Mansfield, part Muhammad Ali. Men never know if it's an invitation upstairs or an invitation outside.

Emma Forrest

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Emma Forrest
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: December 26
Film Director
Journalist
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
London
England
Men
Invitations
Muhammad
Cartoon
Outside
Walk
Mansfield
Walks
Swagger
Part
Upstairs
Never
Invitation

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You want to know, but are afraid to ask, whether or not I found someone. If there could be anyone to fill that hole in my heart after I lost him. I did. Life is futile, says my new therapist, Michaela, and no one gets out of it alive. There is only love.
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Well. There is a psychiatric occurrence we see in men-not often women-where they put all their hopes and dreams onto one person, so intensely that at some point it trips a wire in the brain circuitry, and that causes them to go, in a minute, 180 degrees the other way.
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There's so much guilt there attached to having a perfectly good life.
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I still believe that you truly find yourself not in travel, but in other human souls.
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Someone asked me the other day, Oh your story is like Cameron Crowe's, he has the same thing of having been a teenage journalist, but he was a guy and you just add gender into the mix, it's a 16-year-old girl with adults and rock stars, and it's tough.
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I think that's the function of a lot of psychiatrists and therapists, is keeping people afloat just long enough for them to get older.
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The truth is I have had, for whatever reason, several movie-star boyfriends.
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It's as if he can no longer acknowledge the love he felt or the pain I am in. I have been dismissed. I don't think I was smarter or as beautiful as the other girls he did this to. It's just that I was me. It was all I had.
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Of course he freaked me out. Of course it's nothing to do with me. But none of that matters. He loved me and now he doesn't. I was everything to him and now I am nothing.
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It took a long time, but my heart now feels full when I think of him. When you fall in love again—which I have—it's funny the other things that come back in with that open-ness. You have this ghost chorus of the lovers who came before, but they're benign now, they're good spirits.
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Cyndi Lauper was hilarious and generous, someone I'd loved from childhood who didn't disappoint.
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I do think everything that happens in American pop culture sort of prescribes for England and does end up happening there six months later, maybe a year.
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My radar, after all these years of sanity, is still off when it comes to what people do or don't mean.
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Now that he's gone, I feel like I'm a senior citizen who gave away her life savings over the phone. And this is the crux: I never in my life believed in someone as much as I believed in him. The shame is overwhelming.
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This boy has negative charisma. He walks into a room and the oxygen starts to evaporate. I guess that's why girls sleep with him. They find his awfulness transfixing. He's like a lousy 1970's disaster movie that they can't bring themselves to turn off, even though it is making their life worse every minute they leave it on.
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You’re like Marilyn Monroe,’ Ken tells me, which I take as a compliment and say a nervous “Thank You”. Interrupting, he adds, ‘You’re all velvet and Velcro. Men want you because you’re sexy and broken and when it gets too rough they can say “Hey! This toy is broken!” and toss you aside without feeling bad.
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Yes, I have patterns of love addiction. But I'm a woman. Of course I do.
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At least you know where you are with blood. At least other people can see it.
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He was only twenty-five.He was young enough to miss his youth just as it was slipping away. The worst kind of loss-the one that is happening as you feel it.
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There is that doll dress-up quality of adorable teenage girl writer, and I never felt either as adorable as I was supposed to be, or as dark as the rumors, you know, She must have slept with the editor, and I was like, Oh my god, I'm still a virgin. It was very strange.
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