I’m going to lock myself in my room and just write this stupid paper already.
"Always wear your bow tie a little messed up. Why? Because who is going to fix it for you? A pretty lady; that’s who."
"Some day I’ll probably love other women - or maybe there’ll never be anything but you."
I just want to dress up and go to dinner parties and drink champagne with a boy in tux and a bowtie.