Word: frigid
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...month account of everything those white wastes have to offer. Nothing is missing-from January storms that sweep the landscape and uncover food for such delicate songbirds as Hornemann's redpoll, to the May migrations of barnacle geese coming home to lay their eggs. Attuned to the frigid, lonely rhythms of northern life. Freuchen filled the book with his affection for a land he loved all the more because civilized men with all their technology have never really been able to change...
...grievances, including how she meant to write a novel but had twins by a bandleader instead. Ro and Elsa have come to Havana to make love, with a view to marriage, but when he touches her, she starts to protest: "Not yet . . . It's got to be right ..." Frigid Elsa drinks one Daiquiri after another and does not stop talking until she is unconscious, so Ro lets her drone on and tells his life story to himself and the reader...
...simulated gaiety and affection that they showed their customers, 18 were frigid with them, and ten were incapable of orgasm in any relationship. Some of the less frigid still needed debasement to achieve satisfaction: "I can only be excited by a man who despises me." All the pros were anxious and depressed; no fewer than 15 had tried suicide, many of them several times; one succeeded on the sixth try. Of the six he analyzed, Dr. Greenwald could report proudly that five quit the racket (though that was not their aim in seeking therapy, but relief from anxiety and depression...
Saturday afternoon at Holder Court, club representatives and hundreds of sophomores shivering in the icy wind stand with hands thrust in pockets or holding frigid beer cans, grouping and regrouping, talking in fast desperate undertones, trying to bargain friends into the same group, unload undesirables elsewhere, bid a sad goodby (as if parting forever) to classmates joining other clubs...
...buoyant inebriated throng, they totter off toward the campus or a cafe where they can calm down with a cup of coffee. The fraternal transport is now at its beatific height. Arm in arm they reel indifferent to traffic or the piercing cold; one lifts his hands to the frigid heavens and races down the street backwards, his scarf and topcoat wildly flapping in the wind, crying out in ecstasy, "Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord. Lord!" The unbroken tension of weeks--of a year and a half for some, has ended. Bicker is over at last, for them...