When I used to think about moving to England it was with the belief that upon arrival I was going to take up with a guy with long, delicate fingers who was a cross between Jarvis Cocker, Richard Ashcroft and Morrissey. We'd mainly sit around, partially disrobed, taking loads of drugs and wonder when his band was going to make it big. He'd breathily hiss pithy, observant statements about modern shopping centers and pensioners in my ear in an adorably sexy accent that made him seem smart and worldly. It goes without saying that he'd have an excellent vocabulary.
The majority of the men I've run across in England are one of a few types. There are the hooligans with giant, thick necks and shaved heads who have an affinity for darts and pinky rings, or the ones I more commonly come across--boarding school boys who are very sweet, studied Greek, and give the impression of custardy innocence. They make me feel like common people, if you will.
I've since found out that all of my English dream boyfriends were actually from Northern England. I am now considering the idea that I may have made a slight geographical mistake.
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