Flirting, when it matters to me, is an art I coward at the brink of. I'm just ready to throw up each time. Clammy hands, cold feet, eagle-sized butterflies, intestinal roller coaster rides, and did I really say/ do that moments. Le sigh.
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Congrats, Lomomanila. :) I'd write a thorough entry but I'm too drowsy to be coherent. Must get my films
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