One of my favorite websites to read is xojane. It is smart, touching, funny, helpful, and a million other adjectives that I’m having trouble coming up with right now. Truthfully, reading the articles on it had a large part in me starting this blog. I read it daily and follow a bunch of the writers on twitter (you can follow me if you’d like: @runbakelove). Today, while perusing the website, I came across this article. It’s about nostalgia and the Spice Girls and it’s funny and you should read it. The part that stuck out for me though, was when she says at the beginning that she thought anything British was way cooler than anything in the US. I thought so too. Sometimes I still do.

My British obsession started in high school, probably somewhere around the tenth grade. I already loved the Beatles and all of a sudden there was Oasis. I. Loved. Oasis. I still do. There is nothing like a little Don’t Look Back In Anger to get me into full-on sing-along mode. My friend Eric and I would go to Tower Records in East Lansing and pick up all of the British release-only singles and their boxed sets and videos and magazines featuring them. Noel was the songwriter and the one with a better voice and Liam was the sex god. I can still sing along with nearly every single song of theirs (at least the early stuff – not so much the later releases). I’m going to turn on Spotify and listen to it right now, in fact. Get ready JW. I’m about to belt out some shit.

Anyway, my Oasis obsession was only the beginning of my Brit-love. It lead to other things; books, movies, music, anything pop culture. Eric and I poured over it and absorbed it. Eric used to go to parties in college and pretend to be from England and see how many people would believe him. I pined over British celebrities and rock stars.

Over time, the obsession faded. It wasn’t anything I thought about constantly anymore. Sure, I still have Englishman crushes and whatnot but it doesn’t consume my life. Most of the time anyway. I still catch myself sometimes. After a sort of rotten breakup right before I graduated college, I thought for a while about trying to find a job there. Never mind that Florida ended up being too far away from my family. I don’t know what I would have done with an ocean between us. Every year at Christmastime I watch Love Actually and wish I had been born there. Everyone’s sense of humor is so dry and awesome. I watch Doc Martin on PBS. The London Olympics over the summer really didn’t help either. I’m already an Olympics junkie but stage it in England? Heaven. My newest bit to daydream over has been one of the contributors on xojane, Natalie. She uses awesome slang and writes about very British things. I love it. And I’ve always loved the accents. Don’t even get me started on those. Also, if you know me, you know that I am ghastly white year-round. The climate there would suit me well, I believe.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of where I’m from and I love my friends and family. I think everyone has their daydream place in their heads. Most normal people would probably choose maybe someplace tropical. Not me, man. Well. Maybe sometimes. Usually though, it’s dreary old England, the magical land of dry and raunchy humor, boobs on network tv, and royalty. Someday I’ll go.

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