I’m Just A Girl, Standing In Front Of A Boy, Wondering If He’s Openly Defending A Shitty Celebrity He’s Never Met Before

Notting Hill

I don’t ask for much out of relationships. Politeness. Maybe a college degree. A sense of humor would be nice (but not funnier than me). Would be cool if he could cook. Great if he can speak another language fluently, I think that’s very neat.

And alas, here I am, a dainty young woman of her early 20s, staring at the sea of strangers I have to look at every single day, wondering how many of them have insane, anonymous twitter accounts where they defend shitty famous men...

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