I can’t fucking sleep until I know whether or not Hilary Duff is going to divorce her retired hockey husband, what’s his name. Separated, estranged, rekindling, consciously uncoupled, then back holding hands at Coachella just two weeks ago. I’m riding an emotional roller coaster here. So is Aaron Carter who like any equal parts patient and mentally imbalanced stalker has been laying in wait for a decade for Hilary to finally realize she needs his dimples back in her life:
I would sweep her off her feet if I ever got the chance to again, and fix what I did wrong. I’m going to do everything in my power to fix those relationships in my life, just like I wanna fix the relationship I had with the love of my life. I’m not gonna give up on Hilary. Never.
I’m kind of rooting for Aaron Carter on this one. The chance to get back with your teenaged sweetheart and give her the gonorrhea and mountains of debt you didn’t have the means to give her a dozen years ago is just too tempting. If Hilary Duff is going to exclude every boy she liked who fucked Lindsay Lohan while she was holding out, she’s going to keep having to find boyfriends from outside the U.S.
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