No, no, not in a sappy, lovey-dovey way, though I do love Ed Sheeran (and I am forever indebted to Nicolle for introducing me to him last summer).
The rhythm of my heart was altered.
There was a good five or ten or 30 minutes--all concept of time was lost on me--of his SLC concert where Ed just went crazy on his amplified bass drum (I don't know even if it really was a bass drum or if he was hitting his guitar). And although I was in the very back, behind the sound engineer, trying to see over the crying girl and the bizarre middle school couple who kept on swaying in and out of mine, Camille and Nicolle's lines of sight, I felt every beat that he stomped out as the rumbling booms infiltrated my body in powerful gusts of sound. I started having heart palpitations. My heart didn't know if it should continue its normal pumping, or give into the outside pressure of music, passion and its bass.
In the end, Ed Sheeran won. And my heart will never be the same.
(And props to his openers for preparing my heart for greatness: Rizzle Kicks and Foy Vance)