You’re 18 and it's the 1960s, bands like the Beatles are more popular than ever, and everyone you know is all flocking to see them. All your friends (well the ones who are girls) think the Beatles are just so attractive, but you have your eyes set on someone else. Your boyfriend, Gerard.

None of your friends liked him, said he was a troublemaker- and being that you lived in a small town and he always skipped church, they thought he worshiped Satan too. But he was actually really sweet, he just dressed differently. He was a typical greaser, which he’d admit was definitely starting to go out of style but he didn't care; he liked the way he dressed and didn't care if it was popular still.

The problem was, your parents hated him and he had moved a town or two over. But you were still happy together, and as soon as he’d got enough money saved up to support the both of you, you were gonna get married.

He’d been thinking about you day and night, wanting nothing more to just hold you tight. So one day he’d invested a dime into a payphone to call you up. When you answered you could tell he was a bit drunk as he mumbled into the phone “Can you please say you belong to me, and ease my mind?”