If I Had A Boyfriend Quotes & Sayings

When I first met Cara, she was twelve and angry at the world. Her parents had split up, her brother was gone, and her mom was infatuated with some guy who was missing vowels in his unpronounceable last name. So I did what any other man in that situation would do: I came armed with gifts. I bought her things that I thought a twelve-year-old would love: a poster of Taylor Lautner, a Miley Cyrus CD, nail polish that glowed in the dark. "I can't wait for the next Twilight movie," I babbled, when I presented her with the gifts in front of Georgie. "My favorite song on the CD is 'If We Were a Movie.' And I almost went with glitter nail polish, but the salesperson said this is much cooler, especially with Halloween coming up."
Cara looked at her mother and said, without any judgment, "I think your boyfriend is gay. — Jodi Picoult

As a teenager Valentine's Day was a stressful time. Either I didn't have a "girlfriend" and was forced to endure a day of hearts, cards and stuffed animals parading through my loneliness or even worse I had a "girlfriend" and felt pressure to provide just the right combination of cards, candy and stuffed animals to show the appropriate level of affection. Are flowers and a card enough? Should I get her balloons? Does she like balloons? If I don't get her candy will she think I think she's fat? Why did I want a girlfriend again? Valentine's Day was a report card on how you were, or were not in some sad cases, perceived as "boyfriend" material. — Aaron Blaylock

I went through a period when I was about 19 where I'd go tanning with my boyfriend in tanning beds. Yes, this was actually a thing we used to do together. They were not my friend. I had no idea what I was doing. We all went in the early 2000s. Needless to say, I don't go anymore. If I need a quick fix, I get a spray tan - though it's never a good idea for me with my fair skin. — Brittany Snow

On Christmas morning, Dustin knocked on my door. "Miss Winters," he said cheerfully. "Breakfast."
I didn't move. My parents were dead. My boyfriend was dead. My grandfather had a mysterious hidden room that had books about the walking dead - which is what I knew I would feel like if I attempted to stand up.
"I don't feel well," I said meekly, and rolled over. — Yvonne Woon

I know quickly whether a guy is boyfriend material. If I can have a good time doing absolutely nothing with him, then that's boyfriend material for me. Like if we're able to have fun at a gas station. I've had some really good times at gas stations. — Alyson Hannigan

The quotes were good, if overpolished. I find this common, and in direct proportion to the amount of TV a subject watches. Not long ago, I interviewed a woman whose twenty-two-year-old daughter had just been murdered by her boyfriend, and she gave me a line straight from a legal drama I happened to catch the night before: I'd like to say that I pity him, but now I fear I'll never be able to pity again. — Gillian Flynn

He had kissed me. Put his demon tongue in my mouth. I had kissed him back. Yet I had a boyfriend. Adam. Who I believe I've mentioned. More than once.
Boyfriend named Adam, demon named Levi kissing me - that pretty much meant I had cheated on my boyfriend, didn't it?
Didn't mean to do that. Yikes.
I bit my fingernails and knocked on Brandon's door and tried to rationalize my way around it. It hadn't been a premeditated kiss. It hadn't been initiated by me. Did that really make it cheating? Or just a sort of accidental meeting of the mouths?
Shouldn't there be like a five-second rule, anyway? Like dropping food on the floor.
If you retrieve it immediately, you can still eat it. If the kiss lasted less than say, a minute, it didn't count. Right? — Erin Lynn

What happened was that I caught a glimpse of something I desperately needed to believe in at that point in my life. I wanted to believe there could be something within you that was so essential and so courageous that nothing - no boyfriend, no employer, no trauma - could tarnish or rob you of it. And if you had that kind of unbreakable core, not only would it always be yours, but even in your darkest moments others would see it in you, and help you out before the worse came to the absolute worst. — Gwen Cooper

This Tricia bitch thinks that Lucy tried to steal her boyfriend. Apparently the boyfriend told her he had feelings for Lucy. Lucy had no fucking clue." "Are you calling me a slut?" Tricia spat out. "Fuck you!" Lucy yelled. "I'm not fucking calling you a slut!" She took a step forward. "But if cocks had wings you'd be a fucking airport. — Jay McLean

Why did you call me angel this morning?"
Judd shook his head. "Doesn't matter."
"No one's ever called me something pretty like that before."
"You never had a guy call you anything nice?"
"Farah and I weren't allowed to date."
"If every kid listened to their parents, the world would be less crazy, but considerably less fun."
"You ever try to sneak out of a motel room you share with your dad?"
"Can still have a boyfriend. Just harder to hook up."
"Do you wish I had a boyfriend?"
Judd studied me in a soft way. "I wish you had someone to say sweet things to you. — Bijou Hunter

I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he lived in the wardrobe on a coat hanger. Whenever I wanted, I could get him out and he'd look at me the way boys do in films, as if I'm beautiful. — Jenny Downham

And why had Deb's last boyfriend dumped her?
I dumped him.
Maybe you didn't French-kiss him enough.
I promise you that wasn't it.
Tell me how many times a day you kissed, and I'll say if it was enough.
Four hundred.
Not enough. — Miranda July

Jina Matthews, who worked at the cubicle directly beside Carlin's, wasn't having a good way, either. She was on her phone, her expression tense. She and her boyfriend had been fighting a lot lately, and it looked as if Jina was at the end of her rope. She said a few choice words, then thumbed a button on her phone. Looking across the aisle at Carlin, she made a wry face.
"It was so much more satisfying when you could slam a phone down. Pushing a button just doesn't have the same gratification factor." Her phone, set to vibrate, buzzed around on the desk as another call came in. Jina picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and jabbed the button again. "Unless it's the off button." She leaned forward and spoke to the silent phone. "Call all you want, jackass. I can't hear you," she said in a singsong falsetto. — Linda Howard

Ronan and I have always had a fucked up way of going about things. The first time he fucked me, it was next to my dead boyfriend's body. The first blowjob, in a basement he uses to kill people. He isn't at all sweet. But if I wanted sugar, I'd eat a fucking cupcake. — A. Zavarelli

Hamilton had a complaint. "Why did you have to tell the cops I'm your boyfriend? That's gross, Amy. We're related!"
Amy was disgusted. "We had a common ancestor, like, five hundred years ago. Besides, if they think we're together, we only have to come up with one story, and I can do all the talking."
"Hey, I got an early acceptance to Notre Dame," Hamilton said defensively. "I can talk."
"Of course you can," Amy soothed. "It's what you say that might get us into trouble. — Gordon Korman

I knew it from the first day we worked together but I didn't know what to do about it. I'd never, ever felt that way about anyone before, but she really didn't seem that impressed by me. And she had a boyfriend, although that had never stopped me before if we're being entirely honest. — Lindsey Kelk

The last man she'd dated said something to her, shortly before they broke up: 'I don't know, maybe I'm boring, but I never really feel like you're there when we're out to dinner. You live in your head. I can't. No room for me in there. I don't know, maybe you'd be more interested in me if I were a book.'

She had hated him at the time, and hated herself a little, but later, looking back, Hutter had decided that even if that particular boyfriend had been a book, he would've been one from the Business & Finance aisle and she would've passed him by and looked for something in SF & Fantasy. — Joe Hill

I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane. — John Green

Fog rolls between the blackened trees.
Reminds me of hell, actually.
I pull away from Tucker, shivering.
God, I need therapy, I think.
Right. As if I can picture telling my story to a shrink, stretched out on a sofa talking about how I'm part angel, how all angel-bloods have this purpose we're put on earth to fulfill, how on the day of my purpose I happened to bump into a fallen angel. Who literally took me to hell for about five minutes. Who tried to kill my mother. And how I fought him with a type of holy light. Then I had to fly off to save a boy from a forest fire, only I didn't save him. I saved my boyfriend instead, but it turns out that the original boy didn't need saving, anyway, because he's part angel, too.
Yeah, somehow I have a feeling that my first visit to a therapist would end up with me in a straitjacket getting comfy in my new padded cell. — Cynthia Hand

I listened, I understood and I didn't understand. Long ago she had threatened Marcello with the shoemaker's knife simply because he had dared to grab my wrist and break the bracelet. From that point on, I was sure that if Marcello had just brushed against her she would have killed him. But toward Stefano, now, she showed no explicit aggression. Of course, the explanation was simple: we had seen our fathers beat our mothers from childhood. We had grown up thinking that a stranger must not even touch us, but that our father, our boyfriend, and our husband could hit us when they liked, out of love, to educate us, to reeducate us. As — Elena Ferrante

Once, I'd made the mistake of not trusting. When I found Poppy kissing her ex-boyfriend, I'd assumed the worst and left the scene without even trying to talk to her. She'd done it as a purposeful attempt to drive us apart, unable to bear the guilt of being the catalyst for my schism from the clergy. If I had trusted her, if I had stayed, we could have had another year together. Instead, I'd run away, believing that she was unfaithful, and we'd spent a year miserably apart. — Sierra Simone

Relationships, be they with friends or prospective mates, should be special. Each relationship deserved to be equal, unique, and not compared to any other relationship. The friendship, or more, should stand on its own, and not be held up by any one side. It should resonate with something inside you, connecting with the parts of you not everyone understands. Each relationship should bring many more good times, than it does bad. It should bring you up if you're down, and hold you when you can't hold yourself. Most of all, each relationship should be weighted, against being alone, and if your heart doesn't say two would be better than one, you need to walk away. I didn't have a boyfriend because I hadn't found anyone who valued the same things I did. I didn't have many friends because I applied a lot of the same values to friendships. I had great friends, — N.E. Conneely

If you had a man when I was your friend and then we started hooking up and you broke up with your boyfriend, so now we're together and you have a new male friend? I'm going to look at you sideways because your character's horrible and now I'm thinking you're going to do to me what you did to your ex. — Damien Lemon

I've had a really bad day," she said to Jack. "Your party sucked. I think my boyfriend and I are breaking up. I got taken hostage by a serial killer. I have spiders in my hair. And you're being a pig-headed asshole. I'm telling you," she added, with a glance over her shoulder at Razor Burn, "if someone points a gun at me again, or threatens me in any way, I'm going to lose it. — Chelsea Cain

My brother, Langston, said, "Lily, you don't understand because you've never been in love. If you had a boyfriend, you'd understand." Langston has a new boyfriend and all I understand from that is a sorry state of co-dependence. — Rachel Cohn

What the fuck? Didn't you tell him you had a boyfriend?" "I did. He asked if I loved you." "Who is this guy? What's he do?" "He's an accountant in Boston." "An accountant? Jesus Christ, didn't you tell him you're dating a fucking war correspondent? — Michael Hastings

Do you have a boyfriend?"
That was a little too personal, wasn't it?
"I.." I was caught off guard.
"Is that a yes, or a no?" He raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he stared deeply into my eyes.
If I looked deep enough, I thought, maybe I could find what I was looking for.
"No," I whispered.
He put a hand to his ear. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you?" I had the feeling he had heard it loud and clear, but was messing with me.
"No," I said with one quick look at him and then I lowered my eyes toward the table.
He smiled at my response. "Good," he replied.
Was I flirting? Was he?
I looked back up to try to understand his answer. "And do you, Mr Kaden?"
"Do I what?" He was definitely playing with me now. "Do I have a boyfriend? No. I don't."
I laughed and couldn't help but smile in the process. — Jennifer Whitfield

I wondered if they had rehearsed this weird three-way-talking thing they had going on. I imagined them sitting in a circle in their dorm room, brushing their hair and saying, Okay, so I'll say we feel bad, and then you'll say that your hot boyfriend thinks she's pathetic. — Rachel Hawkins

Well, you're lucky, that's all. Even if he is a vamp now. You must be pretty used to all sorts of weird stuff, being a Shadowhunter, so I bet it doesn't faze you.
"It fazes me," Clary said, more sharply then she'd intended. "I'm not Jace."
The smirk widened. " No one is. And I get the feeling he knows it.
"Whats that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, you know. Jace reminds me of an old boyfriend. Some guys look at you like they want sex. Jace looks at you like you've already had sex, it was great, and now you're just friends- even though you want more. Drives girls crazy. You know what i mean?
Yes, Clary thought. "No." she said. — Cassandra Clare

Suddenly we were standing toe to toe. His body took up so much space around me it was hard to breathe. I could feel his heat and we weren't even touching. What had just happened? Kyle saw the overwhelmed look in my eyes and smirked. He brought his mouth down to mine and brushed my lips with a touch so feather-light that I gasped. My body reacted before my head could. I drifted into him as if he was somehow my new center of gravity. My eyes fluttered shut, and I waited for a kiss that never came. His lips were there, brushing back and forth over mine, teasing me cruelly until I ached with a desire so intense I started to shake. Kyle chuckled darkly. You're in over your head with me, Virgin Val. — Kelly Oram

I'm not him - that guy who was your boyfriend. That guy you want.He almost said: I wish I could be. He had wished he could be. That was why he had come to the Academy, to learn how to be that guy they all wanted back. He'd wanted to be that way, be an awesome hero like in a game or a movie. He'd been so sure, at first, that was what he wanted. Except wishing he could be that guy was like wishing to obliterate the guy he was now: the normal, happy guy in a band, who could still love his mother, who did not wake up in the coldest, darkest hour of the night weeping for dead friends. And he did not know if he could be that guy she wanted, whether he wished it or not. — Cassandra Clare

I missed him desperately, even though he'd said he hated me, even though his anger - the rampage at his house, the X through his yearbook page, the cruel way he withdrew from everyone - scared me. I didn't care if he wasn't my boyfriend, or even my friend. He was my Jonah. I felt more alone without him now than I'd ever felt before I met him. My life had a hole in it. — Natalie Standiford

I discovered that seventeen-year-old girls have such huge verbal energy that their brain drives them to expend it every twenty seconds. On the third day I decided I had to find her a boyfriend
if possible, a deaf one. — Carlos Ruiz Zafon

Did you really just ask if I had a boyfriend?" I laughed.
"Apparently not very smoothly." He laughed. — Nichole Chase

Nine times out of ten, when a woman says, "I have a boyfriend," what this translates to is, "You just telegraphed too much interest."
It has nothing to do with whether she actually has a boyfriend. In fact, if she is attracted to you, she will often deliberately hide the boyfriend from you until after you have had sex with her.
Whether she mentions him or not in no way proves that he actually exists - only that she had a motive to mention him.
The bottom line is, don't ask about her boyfriend and don't appear fazed if she mentions him. He may not even exist. Just take it as an instance of a lack of interest caused by you telegraphic too much interest far too soon. — Mystery

I remember reading this thing that Elizabeth Taylor wrote. She had her first kiss in character. On a movie set. It really struck me. I don't know how or why, but I had this sense that if I wasn't really careful, that could be me: that my first kiss could be in somebody else's clothes. And my experiences could all belong to someone else. — Emma Watson

When I introduced you to Mary Ann, I wanted to call you my girlfriend, Elli," he looked up at her to see her eyes were wide, "I've never had a girlfriend, so I'm not sure if I'll do the boyfriend/girlfriend thing right, but the thought of you being with someone else, or me with someone else, actually hurts my gut, so I guess what I'm trying to say is," he took a deep breath, this was huge, and he thought he sounded stupid but with the way her eyes were glazing over, maybe he was doing this right. "I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend." She smiled at him lovingly, cupping his face in her hands.
"Are you sure? I'm kinda crazy." He laughed, kissing her palm.
"I'm sure."
"Then, yes, Shea, I would love to be your girlfriend. — Toni Aleo

How do you define a boyfriend? If a boyfriend is the first person you think about when you wake up in the morning and the last face you see before you fall asleep, then I was in love with Jonah. But if a boyfriend had to involve physical chemistry and kissing and sex and stuff, then, no, he wasn't that. — Natalie Standiford

I couldn't picture myself with a boyfriend, but if I had to, I envisioned a nice normal guy who turned in his math homework on time and maybe even played rec baseball. — Becca Fitzpatrick

The biggest challenge is to convince a woman that it's not her fault. My daughter is 25; my stepdaughter is 22. As a mother, I want them to know that if a boyfriend is abusive, you cannot ignore it ?- 'Oh, he's been drinking,' or 'He had a bad day.' There is no excuse for a man hitting a woman. Ever. — Debbie Stabenow

This is scary," she whispers. "I've never had a boyfriend before. I don't know how this works. Do people become exclusive this fast? Are we supposed to pretend we're not that interested for a few more dates?"
Oh, dear God.
I've never been turned on by a girl laying claim to me before. I usually run in the other direction. She's obliterating every single thing I thought I knew about myself with every new sentence that passes those lips.
"I have no interest in faking disinterest," I say. "If you want to call yourself my girlfriend half as much as I wish you would, then it would save me a whole lot of begging. Because I was literally about to drop to my knees and beg you."
She squints her eyes playfully. "No begging. It screams desperation."
"You make me desperate," I say, pressing my lips to hers again. — Colleen Hoover

Antonio's fixation was always the same: Sarratore's son {Nino}. He was afraid that I would talk to him, even that I would see him {at school}. Naturally, to prevent him from suffering, I concealed the fact that I ran into Nino entering school, coming out, in the corridors. Nothing particularly happened, at most we exchanged a nod of greeting and went on our way: I could have talked to my boyfriend about it without any problems if he had been a reasonable person. But Antonio was not reasonable and in truth I wasn't either. Although Nino gave me no encouragement, a mere glimpse of him left me distracted during class. His presence a few classrooms away - real, alive, better educated than the professors, and courageous, and disobedient - drained meaning from the teachers' lectures, the pages of books, the plans for marriage, the gas pump on the Stradonr. — Elena Ferrante

I mean ... it's no big deal. You'd have done exactly the same if it had been Ed working undercover with you, right?" Trent's smile had little sign of real happiness in it.
"Like hell I would!" Kieran told him. Trent met his eyes. "Have you met his boyfriend? Derby's bloody well psychotic. I can just imagine trying to
explain to him that I wasn't screwing his sub - I was just screwing the guy his sub was pretending to be." Kieran had heard Derby's views on the matter several times over the past few months. That wasn't a conversation that would ever go well for him or Ed.
"You'd tell Derby?" Trent asked.
Kieran made a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat. "I wouldn't get the chance. Ed would blurt it out five seconds after he set eyes on him. Derby's the only guy he can't lie to. — Kim Dare

It needs to be said. I didn't have the strongest stomach. I wasn't the type of guy who could hold your hair while you puked and not be affected. Did that make me the worst possible boyfriend ever? Maybe. It's entirely possible I'd throw you a towel and run out of the room gagging. I know it's romantic to women - oh, my gosh, he's so sweet he held my hair while I puked up last night's hot dog and enough rum and Diet Coke to kill Captain Jack Sparrow! Seriously? What do you women read? How the hell is that romantic? Give me one reason. One. Just one. I don't even need three. Oh, wow, silence, big shock. You wanna know why? Because it's gross. Because if I had long hair and I were leaning over the toilet, God, you would not, ever, in your right mind waltz into the bathroom, put it in a ponytail, rub my back, wipe my mouth, and think, Wow, I really love this guy, oh, look a cracker! — Rachel Van Dyken

The boy had stopped coughing by then.
He was petting a little white dog who'd trotted
out from the house. "Are you Lilith's
boyfriend?"
Cam grinned. "I like this kid."
"Shut up," Lilith said.
"Well, is he?" Bruce asked Lilith. "Because
if he's your boyfriend, he's going to
have to win me over, too. Like with arcade
games and ice cream and, like, teaching me
to throw a baseball."
"Why stop there?" Cam asked. "I'll teach
you to throw a football, a punch, a poker
match, and even" - he glanced at Lilith - "the
coolest girl off her game. — Lauren Kate

Both the five-year-olds looked at me with bewilderment and a bit of fearful uncertainty. I had a sudden horrifying image of the woman I might become if I'm not careful: Crazy Aunt Liz. The divorcee in the muumuu with the dyed orange hair who doesn't eat dairy but smokes menthols, who's always just coming back from her astrology cruise or breaking up with her aroma-therapist boyfriend, who reads the Tarot cards of kindergarteners and says things like, Bring Aunty Liz another wine cooler, baby, and I'll let you wear my mood ring ... — Elizabeth Gilbert