Please (Don’t) Buy Me Flowers
From the moment I entered into the double digits, I’ve been a hopeless romantic. This happened without reading sappy romance books in my teen years, as most of my female peers did. Most of the time I manage to hide my hopelessness under the guise of my hard-earned cynicism. At times I view my hopeless romanticism as a character flaw; I feel it weakens my badass-don’t-mess-with-me cynical bitchiness. I sometimes hate to admit that one of my guilty pleasures is to watch chick-flicks and romantic comedies; they are…
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