But on another note.

It is around 60 degrees down here in lovely Oxford, and I am wearing summer clothes and rocking to Taking Back Sunday like it’s high school. 

And it well may be high school again, what with all the ex boyfriends suddenly assaulting my facebook with “how are you these days”s and “hey text me sometime xxx-xxx-xxxx”s. 

No.  Just, I don’t even, no.  Sure, I’ll facebook chat with you if you insist.  But I draw the line at you saying you’d like to come visit me sometime, giving me your number, and your awkward winky face emoticons.  It’s not even a questionable line either, in case you were wondering.  It is a line that is exactly 183 miles (according to Google Maps) thick, and you, sir, are not crossing it.  It is bad enough that someday I will be in Mansfield again, that we still talk to some of the same people, that it’s not inconceivable that I could run into you there.

Dear god, what is my life these days?