Just now I realize that the amount of love I have for an –out of my league- celebrity at any given moment it’s a direct reflection of my lack of love/sex life.
About a year ago, I had boyfriend (including, you know, all the good stuff) and I really didn’t care for any famous guy; I’m not going to lie, of course I thought Jake Gyllenhaal was drop dead gorgeous and scenes from Full House could make my lower region feel all funny (scenes with John Stamos in it… I’m not into anything weird), but that’s as far as I got.
There isn’t any other way of describing my current situation other than doing the polite thing: Inviting you all to my wedding with Rupert Grint. June, 3rd. Summer wedding, it’s going to be lovely.
I wish I was kidding… Well, no. To be honest, I wish I wasn’t kidding and there was an actual relationship, not just me being mentally unstable.