I saw Titanic in 3D last night. It made me think a lot of things.

1. Leo is still a babe. Oh my GAWD is he still a babe. Those sparkling blue eyes peeking out at you from behind a portrait being drawn, his floppy hair blowing in the wind, his all encompassing adoration of a girl- SIIIIIGGGHHH. Sure, he may be kind of scrawny and boyish, but that’s who we (girls who were between 11 and 16 in 1997) fell in love with.  And you never completely let go of your first love.

2. I was really surprised how intensely I physically reacted to seeing this movie on the big screen (NO NOT THAT GROSS GET YO MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER). It was just so familiar and exciting that it drove me to squirm, yelp, and sigh audibly at many given moments.

3. Rose is really just a bitchy 17 year old who hates her mom, and not a glamorous angel like I had thought when I was 12. If this were a modern day love story, she would be in some shitty garage rock band and probably doing coke off of a Gossip Girl character’s boobs.

4. I had never actually SEEN the ship sink. I mean, obviously I watched that shit plummet to the bottom of the Atlantic the 6 times I saw it in the movie theater in 1997, but my brain was all like “LEO! LEO! IS HE GOING TO BE OKAY!?” and never “Those poor innocent Irish immigrants.” But  in the last 15 years, I have seen and been affected by tragedies that feel immediate and real. I have seen buildings crumble, waves of water wash over cities, and watched Lindsay Lohan spiral from cute red-head to a DISASTER. My gaze is no longer that of an innocent girl, excited only by an all encompassing and unsinkable love story. It is one sullied by the dark reality of the world around me and by the fact that I thought I would have married 1997 Leo by now.

5. (As pointed out by my friend Julie) 1914 Steerage= Every hipster? All those layers and boots, suspenders and long skirts? Fiddles, beards and handlebar mustaches? That crazy irish below deck party may as well have been *insert name of super trendy Williamsburg bar here*!

6. The entire theater was enthralled by the movie. It’s been said over and over again that our generation is obsessed with nostalgia due to, you know (EYE ROLL)- the recession, the job market, our refusal to become real life adults despite the fact that we’re all hurtling toward 30 and blah blah blah. But Titanic went deeper than that. It wasn’t an ironic donning of a 90’s work-out suit, or a Nicktoons themed bar night. Everyone in the theater seemed genuinely joyful to be experiencing this again, as illustrated by their applause when the movie shifts into the 1914 portion of the story or the hoots and hollers when Rose spits in Cal’s face and says “I would rather be his whore than your wife!” (YOU GO GIRL!). Everyone seemed thankful for 3.5 hours where we could lose ourselves in something that symbolizes innocence for so many of us, where we could forget about our shitty jobs, our crazy relationships, our student loans, and the plain old tediousness of day to day adult life. It gave us a chance to connect with a cold, faraway part of ourselves- the part that is tired of being ironic and snarky and just wants to FEEL FEELINGS.

7. “A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets.”

8. The water looks spookily refreshing as it takes over steerage. Like a beautiful, serene swimming pool in your neighbor’s back yard that you have always wanted to sneak into.

9. Rose has brought some paintings with her on the ship. They are by “something Picasso” who will “never amount to a thing!” and Monet. But these are real, famous paintings that are currently in museums! They did not sink in the Titanic! How could they have! They are in museums! Nice oversight, James Cameron!

10. I have spent over 24 hours of my life seeing Titanic in a movie theater. 6 times in 97/98. Once in 2012. YOU DO THE MATH. (‘Cause I don’t know how to add because my brain is such mush from seeing this movie so many times.)

11. This might be TMI, but I went to the gyno (aka Lady Doctor) earlier in the day and THEN saw Titanic, which seems hilarious. Quite a lady day. And both places I realized that I am aging: my past innocence sprawled out behind me like a sea of frozen bodies (Too soon?). Luckily, despite knowing that I am an adult and life will never be as simple as it used to be again, there is a shimmer in the distance- a heart shaped blue diamond’s worth of experience that has yet to be sought out. I sense that promise of my own future and I know that my heart will go on. 

I think I need a new guilty pleasure, because my The OC: Season 1 discs are starting to skip.

Remember how Ryan Attwood loves Journey? And Julie loves Bob Seger? LOL.

Belle (Tuesday 2:34pm): Hey you :)

Beast (Tuesday 2:40pm): hey yourself ;)

Belle (Tuesday 2:41pm): I can’t stop thinking about last night, I think we kept Mrs. Potts and the kids up a little late…

Beast (Tuesday 2:47pm): oh, she doesn’t mind. how are the scratches? :/

Belle (Tuesday 2:49pm): I told you, its fine. I kind of like it when you run your claws down my back, but not more than I like books!

Beast (Tuesday 2:54pm): i know, i know, you love books

Belle (Tuesday 2:56pm): Do you know what my FAVORITE book is?

Beast (Tuesday 2:59pm): is it the corrections?

Belle (Tuesday 3:00pm): No. It’s the love story we’re writing ourselves!

Beast (Tuesday 3:07pm): i’m reading the corrections right now and its really great. i love the way the economic downfall parallels the downward spiral of the family. Franzen is such a genius.

Belle (Tuesday 3:09pm): Cool.

Belle (Tuesday 3:27pm): So……See you tonight?

Belle (Thursday 6:45pm): Raaaarrrr

Beast (Thursday 6:55pm): ?

Belle (Thursday 6:57pm): Guess what I’m wearing right now?

Beast (Thursday 7:05pm): wha?

Belle (Thursday 7:12pm): Just that velvet cape from whenever we play in the snow. With nothing under it!

Beast (Thursday 7:38pm): hawt

Belle (Thursday 7: 42pm): Don’t you want to come home and take it off me and see if theres something there that wasn’t there before? ;)

Beast (Thursday 8:25pm): sry, at work

Belle (Thursday 8:30pm): OMG CLOCKSWORTH JUST WALKED IN AND SAW ME NAKED IN THE CAPE! I hope he doesn’t tell Lumiere! Hahahahaha lol lol lol!

Beast (Thursday 8:34pm): BELLE I SAID IM BUSY.

***

Beast (Thursday 10:25pm): You still wearing that cape?

Belle (Thursday 10:27pm): Leave me alone.

Beast (Thursday 10:29pm): Whats wrong?  Is this about earlier?

Beast (Thursday 10:32pm): Baby, I was in the middle of some writing. This book isn’t going to finish itself. I’m supposed to send the last chapters in next week!

Belle (Thursday 10:38pm): More like in the middle of SOMEONE.

Beast (Thursday 10:39pm): what! are you at the castle? I’m coming home now, lets talk about this in person.

Belle (Thursday 10:40pm): Maybe I won’t be here when you get back!

Beast (Thursday 10:41pm): Calm down. I’ll be home in a few and we’ll talk through this. We can use the magic mirror to spy on those voluptuous villager girls? ;)

Belle (Thursday 10:42pm): Maybe I’ll finally take Fasting up on his offer and get out of this dank and drafty place WITH

Belle (Thursday 10:42pm): A REAL MAN and go somewhere like PARIS. How come you never take me to Paris? We live in France! We can’t be that far away!

Belle (Thursday 10:42pm): damnit Fasting= Gaston. stupid autocorrect.

Beast (Thursday 10:43pm): Good luck getting that egg eating, brick headed d-bag to tie you up and call you a whore!

Belle (Thursday 10:44pm): !!!

Belle (Thursday 10:44pm): I thought you loved “Tie Me Up” night!?

Beast (Thursday 11:01pm): DAMNIT BELLE WHERE ARE YOU?

Beast (Thursday 11:01pm): ARE YOU WITH HIM?

Beast (Thursday 11:01pm): IM COMING TO FIND YOU.

Belle (Thursday 11:04pm): Don’t bother, I’m in that weird spider carriage and not coming back.

Beast (Thursday 11:05pm): Belle. Where are you planning on going? Just come back and we can talk about this in the library. You love the library.

Belle (Thursday 11:06pm): LEAVE ME ALONE.

Belle (Thursday 11:07pm): I’ve made up my mind and I can’t do this anymore. Its always about you. And finishing that goddamn book!

Beast (Thursday 11:08pm): But you love books!

Belle (Thursday 11:09pm): I LOVE YOU MORE THAN BOOKS AND IF YOU CANT SEE THAT THEN F YOU

Belle (Thursday 11:09pm): FFFFFFFF UUUUUUUUUUUU CCCCCC KKKKKK YYYYOOUUUU

Beast (Thursday 11:11pm): Baby, I’m sorry. How can I make this up to you?

Belle (Thursday 11:15pm): Take me on a trip out of this poor, provincial town. Just you and me and no work. Take me somewhere sunny where we can have brunch on a beach and listen to local live music in some night club and theres not a single enchanted object in sight!

Beast (Thursday 11:16pm): Okay, we can do that. Just come back and we’ll talk about it.

Belle (Thursday 11:18pm): You promise you won’t just sweep this under the dog ottoman like you did the idea of turning the west wing into a swimming pool?

Beast (Thursday 11:19pm): Yes, I promise. I swear on my human body’s grave. I love you.

Belle (Thursday 11:20pm): I love you, too. I’ll be back soon. Tell the violin playing coat rack that we don’t need him at dinner tonight because we will be TALKING.

I just moved to New York from Chicago. Not JUST, but just. A little over a month now. However, it feels as though I have been here one million years. Even though I have been running on summer camp time (one day feels like one week), it is still baffling to me that I am here. I have moments where I look up from my desk at my day job where I have been sitting for the last 7 hours and think “W-T-THE FUCK?” Where am I? Wheres my spacious Logan Square apartment, my rag tag group of best friends, and my best hot dogs in the world? Not to mention my strong artistic community that I just closed my eyes and walked away from. What was I doing!? WHAT AM I DOING HERE?

Its easy to only have dreamy, lovey Chicago thoughts as I look in the rear view mirror, but I do know this is the right move right now. It might take a second, but I will find those friends, hot dogs, and communities here. RIGHT!?!?! hahahaHAHAHHAHHAhahaha its so awesome being new here!!!!

So, anyway. This blog used to be dedicated to a “dating project” I was doing, like, 2 years ago, which has ceased but would explain a lot of boy related posts. They are pretty funny! You should travel back in time and read them if you want! However, I hereby declare this is no longer a blog solely about (terrible) dates I have been on. I am sure that will still be a bulk of the content, but I HAVE A LOT OF OTHER THINGS GOING ON I WANT TO TALK ABOUT, OKAY?

Hello, Good-day, and Welcome to phase 2 of Hear Me Out.

I’m just sitting here, drinking my third glass of (chilled) white wine and am wondering what makes these “really laid back” guys who “love biking and gardening” or “cooking whatever you tell me to cook :D” think that chin pubes are totes legit? Not even, mo fos. Remember the expression “Mo Fo”? God, I must really be aging myself here!

Anyway, let me turn down this compilation of songs from The OC: Season 1 real quick so I can hear myself think. I think that part of my apathy towards men in the recent months has come from most of them sucking balls, in a non literal way. I mean GOD DAMN, if the line up of bastards in my “quick match” is any sort of composite of the real bachelors of Chicago, I might as well go stick my head in the over. I ask you, sweet universe, the question that women have been asking since Eve was first granted the power of menstruation: What happened to all the good ones? And is it okay to sabotage the relationship, or maybe the marriage of a couple if you think you might have a chance to grab that good one once he’s single?

If I talked about how badly I need to make out with someone would that still be funny or would it spiral us all into desperation and oblivion? I’ll just say this: I might make some exceptions and move goatees from the “DEALBREAKER” category into the “CON” column. YEAH BOYS PUT ON YOUR FEDORAS, ADJUST YOUR EYEBROW PIERCING AND GIMME A CALL.

I sit at the dinning room table in what I have designated my “house pancho” scraping the last bits of chocolate pudding out of a cutesy teacup. I ponder this unusually cold night and convince myself it will be winter forever. As I sit and scrape and ponder, I also find my eyes jumping back to my phone every few minutes. Let me make one thing clear- I didn’t even really LIKE him. But it would still be nice if he called to say he had an awesome time.

I met The Aggressive Writer many months ago (on the internet :/ ). We were supposed to get together one evening back in January, but I ended up canceling on him after staying up all of the previous night with a heartbreaking honey who wandered away abruptly after the blizzard of 2011 had buried what there had been of our love. I figured (at the time) that this IRL babe felt legit, so F this online S. Well, IRL crashed and burned leaving no survivors (R.I.P. Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopez) and I was left in the road wearing a wedding dress. Metaphorically, of course, I’m not CRAZY. Months pass, the ground thaws, the leaves start to bud, all of the dudes on bikes shave off their beards, and out of nowhere I get a text message from this guy. The writer. He says something about being in my neighborhood and maybe I’m around? WHAT!? We have never met, and this seems a little desperate. However, I remember thinking he seemed funny/cool (I need to think of some new adjectives to describe what I like in boys) and was surprised he still was thinking of me. So I didn’t totally write him off and responded with something witty. We had a lot of back and forth and finally decide to get together SUNDAY NIGHT.

First thing I notice, he looks a little but like a caveman. Not as severe as, say, that Geico caveman guy, but still a serious relative of an ape. Also, he’s much shorter than I imagined. As a tall drink of water myself, this is always a little disappointing, especially when you have been imagining him as 6’2”. But its fine, I approach with confidence. We say hello, he says something stupid about having been right on time. He’s wearing a Che Guevara shirt so I immediately know he “CARES” about things. Hes a journalist and told me about a few crazy murder stories he has covered. That was exciting. I had eaten only a few hot dogs that day, so I got a little drunk kind of quickly. We were laughing and I think there was some good banter. We left after two beers and hugged. I mumbled something like “I guess I’ll talk to you later…” and he said, I don’t actually remember because I was focused on not tripping over my boots and how I was going to ride my bike home even though the world was a little spinny. I was pretty drunk, you guys. But anyway, I feel kind of lack luster about the whole thing, although I have been on worse dates (the guy who worked at the factory and never saw the sun). But I’ve also been on better (a night of coronas, TLC trivia, and BONING. What happened to THAT guy?) I would maybe hang out with him again, but only if he calls me. Right? Its not worth it to put the effort in, but if HE wants to then we’ll see.

In other news, I hate dating. Ugh. Is there anymore chocolate pudding?

On my way to work this morning, I wanted to kiss every man on the train. Maybe it was because this stupid cold I’ve had for the past few weeks is FINALLY feeling a little better. Or maybe its because it was sunny and they are all sooooo cute. But what MAKES them cute? Here to offer you some insight on what women want is my good friend Tess.

___________________________________________

I got to thinking about the  Female Gaze / what straight females are looking at when they check out male hotties. Living in a city that is swarming with hotties (and notties) has made this research pretty easy to carry out. I sometimes wish the points of interest on male forms were more easily spotted, as they tend to be on ladies. Unfortunately, my wandering eyes (loins) seek attributes that aren’t always visible in my periphery or a distance longer than 20 feet. However, I feel fortunate that my interests allow me to gaze more discreetly than the poor dudes who swerve their heads so hard at the sight of a big round brown, they might as well have flashing neon boners to go with it.

This female’s gaze starts at the face. I know that sounds sort of sweet but don’t worry, this gets shallower as it progresses. Probably stemming from my desire to not have stupid ugly-faced children, the gaze is held on his face to make sure it isn’t obstructed by a lame haircut/hairstyle. The definition of such hairstyles can be found:

And here.
Hair is a good indicator of intelligence, creativity, and also trying too hard. Facial hair counts. (Beard = sure. Mustache = chill out for a second. Soul patch = not on your life. Patch of any sort = probably not a good sign.)

If all is good up top, ms. gaze skips right down to the shoes. Many men have wasted their futures (their existence) on a poorly selected shoe. If tampered with, a sensible walking shoe has the power to destroy all of his genetic gifts and nurtured talents. George Clooney in a brown hiking/dress shoe is not George Clooney anymore. He’s something else that isn’t interesting to me and the spirit of my future offspring.

I will now move on to a Google image search that will somehow help me elaborate on all of this.

I’d like to be you and marry you at the same time. Let’s marry ourselves.
***


Tess is a foot conscious dancer who lives in NYC and has Too Many Jobs. Thanks Tess!

The defendant will now state her case.

On the evening of March 6th I was internet introduced to a friend’s roommate via an unnamed dating website. I was told this person was “SO CUTE” and that I “would really get along with him” and “He’s a law student!” So I may have tracked him down and messaged him without him knowing that I knew who he was. I guess it was doomed from the start, because nothing should be built on a foundation of lies like that. Unless its the Judicial System- ZING!

We had a very quick and sharp witted back and forth of literary/meat related one-liners and all parties involved thought this was definitely going to be a winner. Flash forward to the eve of March 11th and I nervously wait in a trendy Beer & Wine bar. That first moment is always the worst on any date, but its ESPECIALLY bad on a blind date. That second of looking around the restaurant and feeling lost and shameful and maybe a little desperate. “Why am I even here!” I think to myself. “Does everyone know I am looking for HIM? Is that him? God I hope not. Or maybe THAT’S him- HELLO NURSE!” And then I spot a simple, cute man wearing glasses very similar to mine. On this particular blind date, said gentleman was obviously more nervous than I. The second I introduced myself he immediately jumped into conversation about our mutual friend and how hes his roommate and isn’t it crazy! “Ah! It’s such a small and funny world!” I spat out.

The restaurant was particularly crowded/ loud and we ended up getting sat at a comically wide table. I had to sit on the very front of my chair and lean aggressively across the table just to get close enough to hear him. He probably thought I was just trying to show off my awesome boobs. (I mean, two birds with one stone, ya know?) Anyway, the conversation was very one sided. I feel like he talked a lot about himself and didn’t ask very many questions. And at the moments where I would begin to initiate conversation either about myself or general topics, he would immediately shut me down and say something to either insight an argument (He is a law student!) or turn it back around to himself.

Exhibit A: I was telling a classic story about the time our smoke alarm went off for the first time and the fire department showed up. I hadn’t even reached the thrilling conclusion of talking to the hunky fireman when he interrupted me and asked very dryly “Why didn’t you just take the batteries out?” like I was an IDIOT and this story was an IDIOT.

Exhibit B: We got to talking about television and I mentioned two favorite shows, both of which he said were “Stupid.” How could I could possibly think STELLA or Community were funny! Don’t make me defend the very fiber of my being to you on a first date! If you hate the things I’m made of then you hate me, probably? Maybe this is my own issue in being too connected to the things I love? Or maybe I should have started criticizing SKATEBOARDING and see how he felt.

Exhibit C: He berated me for A) getting “cold feet” and not moving to Austin and B) not being a stand up comedian, and thus not being a real comedian. Just because you don’t play the piano doesn’t mean you aren’t a musician! Gah!

As you can see, ladies and gentleman of the jury, all evidence points to an aggressive and cold man. Now, I do respectfully request that you take all this with a grain of salt as he wasn’t as terrible as I am making him out to sound, I guess. I think he just was unaware of proper date conversation etiquette . But STILL. Don’t ask me to drive you to the train if you won’t even pay for my beers. RIGHT LADIES?

CASE CLOSED.

And now back to “No Nonsense 2011” with out lovely guest post-er Little E! Last we left her, she was gingerly walking away from a downpour…

As I mentioned previously, my dating experience in not wide or deep. I’m trying very hard to not get self-conscious about being “inexperienced” at dating, because, in the end, isn’t it different with every person? Or maybe not?

Way back in the first few days of the year, I met The Chef. It was at the same dinner party that I met The Ginger, both through a good friend of mine who used to live here and was visiting. I spent all of that night hitting on The Ginger, but The Chef kept coming to all of our group hang-outs for the next week. He was funny, nice, well dressed and pleasant to be around. Oh, I should also mention that he’s a chef a very famous and well respected New York restaurant (and 30 and European) aka winning the dating lottery! I didn’t think much of it until my friend was about to head home, and I realized I wanted to keep seeing him. Plus, I was feeling gutsy.

So I asked him out. We went on a first date, which was fun. We went on a second date, where he came to my place, cooked me dinner and we made out. We went on a third date where we “watched a movie” at his apartment. It was going well! He was really in to me. I did my best play it cool and he sent me long, gushy texts. I was aloof and had to cancel a few times and he kept coming back for more. We went on more dates, I didn’t have to do anything. I could just show up and he was so in to it. The more he was showing enthusiasm, the more uncomfortable I got. I was looking back through the archives of this blog and saw posts wondering why guys were afraid to feel feelings. I’ve noticed that I tend to fall into that roll in dating situations. Blerg.

Part of the answer might have been that I’m not really attracted to him. I think I took things a little too fast (aka wanted to get laid) before I realized what kind of feelings I had for him. Not that there’s nothing wrong with boning. But it does complicate things if you’re both in it for different reasons. We didn’t leave things at a great place on our last date and he hasn’t reached out and neither have I. I don’t feel great about it, but I’m sure it wasn’t going to be a relationship. It’s a lot easier to end it now than when someone got too attached later on. Or, at least, that’s how I justify my being immature and unwilling to have an adult conversation about these things. Lessons learned? Probably not.

That being said, this is probably the closest I have been to having someone I could call “my boyfriend.” We held hands in public! He was cuddly! He was very touchy-feely which I loved when we were alone (and hated when we were in public). I’m pretty sure I broke my record for “number of dates” though probably not “length of dating.” It was great to have someone give me some affection. It gives me motivation to keep searching it out, but with someone who I like as much as they like me. So the search continues.
The next candidate is The Musician from a band we have all heard of, with whom I hit it off with at a party a few weeks ago but who is on tour for a few more. Our mutual friend and I are strategizing and I hope that will be a good post…

Thanks, E!

A note to readers: the creator of this blog is going on a date of her own tomorrow night! Lets call him The Lawyer for now and see if THIS case goes past the 9th district court of appeals! HEY-OH TO THE HIGHEST COURT OF THE LAND.

As a life long risk taker, I have many skeletons in my closet. As a life long Chicago-an, many of them are still floating around the city that I inhabit, just waiting to run into me at any moment, bar, birthday party or three street intersection. NOWHERE IS SAFE FROM THESE GHOSTS OF PAST LIVES. Now these run-ins sometimes bring on feelings of regret or nausea- knowing that someone you filed away under “hate” or “SO OVER” still exists on the peripheries of your life, going to bowling parties with some of your close friends and living just around the corner. Sometimes it makes your life a little more cozy when you can spend an evening with a long ago ex-boyfriend-now-good-friend and just bask in the comfortableness of it all. And sometimes you win at high school.

Ah high school: pizza at lunch, projects that utilize your parents video camera, and never ever having any real commitments. It was wonderful, wasn’t it? And don’t forget about the swarms of charming boys racing around figuring out what they’re most passionate about! (Maybe its me!?) (It was never me) I loved having crushes outside of my weird little theater group, mostly because the boys I hung out with were more interested in learning how to play Seasons of Love on the piano or perfect their tenor vibrato (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I’M SAYIN’).

One of the many gentlemen I lusted over was a handsome cello player. He was pretty attractive by himself, but then throw onto his college applications that he plays the sexiest instrument ever and I could barely keep my way too much jewelry clad hands to myself. But he was popular! And I was a theater nerd! Alas! But then this laid back fellow decided to break out of his world of girls wearing uggs and lacrose games and venture into the theater universe. We officially met when we were both cast in a student directed production of “Picasso at the Lapin Agile” and became buddies instantly. The kind of buddies who touch and flirt, but never actually hang out after play “practice” (as the non-theater kids called it. Its REHEARSAL, you idiots.) or on the weekends. Which was fine with me. As long as I could have that moment where our eyes would meet across a crowded hallway of rowdy teens between 2nd and 3rd period and he would rush over and hug me with his strong, musical arms and say something cute about missing me- I needed nothing else. That was all it ever was, and that was fine. I had my Broadway career to worry about.

Last night I saw this cello player (still handsome, still sexy, still so chill it hurts) at a bar. I hadn’t thought about this guy for ages, but when we saw each other it was that sweaty passing period all over again. The joyful bliss of seeing someone who feels like home. We were never super close, but theres just something comfortable about him and what he represents. That Oak Park bond that you can never quite get away from, no matter how hard you try. We gabbed and played catch up a little. Hes living in some crazy “Ballroom” in Bridgeport where they have all of these amazing sounding shows. And it just so happens that they are having one this Saturday! He insisted and insisted that I come and bought me a beer and I said “Sure! Of course! Why not!?” even though I totally already have plans for Saturday, I was just overwhelmed by his charm and the amazing muscles I felt on a weird part of his back every time I hugged him. I don’t think normal people have these muscles, only men who have been playing the cello for their entire life. Anyway, the time came to leave and I swore I would be there on Saturday. We had one last hug and as I was pulling away he kissed my neck. The best place to kiss. Probably just a friendly, ol’ pal, buddy-buddy sign of affection, but I was immediately transported to my 17 year old self and knew there was nothing more I wanted in that moment then a tiny kiss from this beautiful man. Take that high school.

So maybe I’ll go to the party.