Sir Paul McCartney, the man I was supposed to marry in 1964 after I first laid eyes on him, listened to him sing and wag his moppy head, but I was too young for him, is now available once again.
Paul, if you're reading this, I'm older now... and better. I never loved you for your money. I loved you for being you. And get this... I'm a singer/songwriter now which I wasn't in 1964. We are both so much wiser and I really need to get off this island. Call me.