What I'm about to say is an understatement:
Granted the Victoria's Secret fashion show was a month ago, I'm finally over my self-shame as partaking in such entertainment is a bittersweet experience which, in my case, caused slow recuperating back into personal acceptance.
Such a defined jawline should not live 5 minutes from me, although I know I wouldn't have it any other way. As much as I acknowledge my obsession, quite honestly, it's that of a shallow vanity I hold on Gabe, clearly I'm not trying too hard. You better believe he will encompass one of my new year's resolutions, along side of trying to not befriend those I meet once on my dog's Facebook and utterly confuse coworkers via email/corporate office phones.
I'd like to think my accumulation of friends' addresses, lengthly photo blogging, bar crawling (not always literally), blaring music so I can no longer hear my friends speak that are just two feet away from me and ordering a PBR at a trendy bar in the LES to make myself laugh are only practice for when I maneuver my way into becoming besties with Gabe and his posse just to drink them under the table. It's a blissful shock back into the blatant reality. Hi, it's been 6 months since I've lived here and it's about time he meets me.