I have a borderline catastrophic character flaw. I refuse to believe that a guy likes me unless he is on one knee professing his love for me with a box from Tiffany’s. Now, before you start accusing me of using this post as a way to publicly flaunt the number of boys who have fallen smitten for this dashing diva, I can assure you that’s not the point of my post (at least not...
Flirting With Disaster
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