Okay, they say that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem.
(deep breath)So here I go-
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My name is Michelle. And I'm addicted to young British boys. There, I said it. Now you know. It's not that I've ever met a British boy in person, ( Phoenix, Arizona apparently is not on the top of the list of vacationing spots for British families).
No, my fascination is enjoyed from afar.
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It all started when Price William grew out of his teenage awkward stage. He stopped looking like a little kid from "Oliver Twist" and started looking like, well, a prince! I was able to suppress my addition for a while and even felt for a moment that I was on the road to recovery. And then they cast the lead part of the first Harry Potter movie to Daniel Radcliffe and I became a full fledged addict!
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Something in that accent that just drives me nuts. My hubby refuses to take me to Europe for fear I might confess my undying love to every British male on the plane.
Jamie Oliver, Jamie Cullum. Oh, to be young with enough money to catch a plane to Europe.
Well, compared to most vises, mine is pretty tame. No one is being hurt by my obsession (except for the few occasions when I pounce on my husband after hearing him speak in a British accent), and my bank account is in no way affected by my daily needed fixes. (Twilight wallpaper anyone?)
Harmless, yet incredibly satisfying, this is an addiction I don't mind not recovering from.