to listen to "Are You Feeling Sinister?" on repeat all day long.
Perhaps.
But what if I picture Andrew (the most beautiful boy in the world, whom I met in Edinburgh way back when) singing each of these songs to me personally? And what if this absurd fantasy is exactly what I expect to come true upon stepping off the plane in Edinburgh? Would this make me crazy?
Boys on my short list (you know who you are), consider yourselves put on notice.
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