Surely it can’t be that unusual to spend most of your spare time dreaming of the most important day of your life. Perhaps I’m just a desperately sad example of womanhood. Lord, I hope not. I feel like this is Mr. Right not Mr. Right-for-three-weeks-before-I-do-my-usual-disappearing-act. Put me in a room with this man-the one I could love like
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Consider yourself Loved.
Consider me yours.
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