Stories in Humans that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
The "Just One" Rule
I have a rule that I live by every day of my life, no matter the circumstances, because I believe it has been the only thing that has given me the life I want. Some actually think I'm crazy...and for what? Because I found something that works for me? If it works, why not do it? I'm not bound to what others think of my methods. My methods work. I will abide by them as long as I continue seeing success.
"THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE" - A Photo Series
It seems like some people like being IN a relationship more than they like the PERSON they are in the relationship with. I've thought about this idea lot. In watching friends and acquaintances come in and out of relationships. In analyzing relationships of my own. Something about that idea scares me. I want to whole-heartedly love the person I'm with--for who they are, not just what they do. I want to love them complexly, deeply, and authentically. I want to love them even more than I love holding hands or kissing goodnight.
Red Red Wine
We met at Coasters Bar in downtown Sacramento late on a Saturday night. It had only been six months since my divorce finalized, and I was still apprehensive about dating. I'd seen enough episodes of Catfish to know that anyone could walk through that door claiming to be the woman I'd come to meet. Ice cubes clinked in my cocktail glass as I sipped from the edge, lubricating my social muscle. We'd gotten along online so I was hoping not to make a fool of myself in person, which for me was easier said than done. I spotted her as she wandered in from the warm spring rain looking just as nervous as I was. Her velvety brown eyes found mine and she smiled wide, exposing the dimples in her sun kissed cheeks. She walked toward me with her arms extended as if seeing an old friend for the first time in years.
Learning to Speak Another Love Language
The only word I learned in my high school Spanish class was baño. My teacher rolled her eyes when my hand went up and responded, "¿otra vez?".
When I walk through my front door at 9:42pm, I don’t stop to take my coat off. I don’t put my keys in the bowl or throw my bag on the floor. I don’t even shout a hello to Dylan. I go straight to the bathroom, turn on the shower, crank up the temperature as high as I can bear it and jump in. I stand under the gushing water, grateful for the power behind it as it washes the horror that was this evening off my body. My skin is still crawling twenty minutes later.
I Was Once Heckled by a Vietnam Vet in High School
Let's start with the obvious... War is hell, I think we can all agree on that. Whether you support nation-on-nation violence or not, it's clear that war is not a fun thing. Well, maybe to some. And no, I have never, nor will I ever (hopefully) fight in a war. Psychological warfare, maybe, but that's neither here or there.
If you think about it, living in a foreign country and being transgender have a LOT in common. Of course, when you first ask the question, it doesn’t seem to make much sense. I mean, how in the world are they possibly related??
Meghan and Harry in 20/20 Hindsight
I think it’s absolutely wonderful that Meghan Markle and Harry Windsor managed to find each other in this big crazy world and unite in a marriage obviously fueled by love and mutual admiration; it took incredible courage on both sides. It was so clearly a Cinderella story which captured the imagination of any romantic on either side of the pond.
All I ever wanted was designer clothes. Every morning I write in my little black notebook of all the designer items I need from Chanel, Gucci, Dior and Givenchy so I can keep up with all the celebrity trends. Steven, once told me to write down everything you want onto piece of paper then one day it will come true. So that's what I've been doing.
I Am A Big Fat Loser
I Am a Big Fat Loser Part One Hello. My name is Treva and I’m a big fat loser. I know what you’re thinking. “Why is she announcing to the world that she’s a loser? Wouldn’t she rather hide it?”
A (Black) Book Of Our Own
It wasn’t a gloomy day when she had come across the notebook, as one always seems to do in an espionage novel. It was actually an unusually warm weather for February that allowed the golden hue of afternoon light the park in a warm manner. Annie had just finished her online classes for the day, and as per her Wednesday routine, she had gone to the park to unwind after a long day. It was not until she had come to her regular bench by the river that her daily routine changed drastically.
Forget Me Not
The first thing I noticed as I circled the block searching for a place to park was the house. A modest, dark red brick bungalow, it contrasted dramatically with its neighbors by its impeccable cleanliness and order. The wrought iron fence gleamed coal black and shiny, the roof was spotless with not a single missing shingle, and the snow had been shoveled so neatly that the flagstone walkway looked scribed by a yardstick from sidewalk to stoop. The pristine white rectangles of yard were repeated in miniature by the curtained windows bracketing the polished oak door. The whole picture was framed by hedges trimmed to perfect symmetry. I remember thinking it must be the residence of a retired military officer and his wife. I fancied they had so cherished their tidy little home that for years they had resisted the flight to the suburbs, patiently hoping for the renaissance that was, in fact, finally beginning to scrub the grubby face of the city center.