I know that men in fiction are always better.
I know that daydreaming about Sir Percy saving me right as Chauvelin throws me in front of the guillotine isn’t going to help cure me of my “single” status (which wouldn’t be so bad if this town wasn’t all like oh my god, we’re nearing middle age – 23 – let’s get married).
I know that no fictional man is going to swing in from a chandelier with a rapier in hand (yes, I did say rapier, Andrea, don’t laugh) and fight off evil Lord Beckett while cupping a hand around my waist and trying to make out with me.
I know that I won’t wake up in the morning and have to see my darling Hector, future King of Troy, march off in the morning to face his executioner. Although, I do know that if I wouldve been Andromache, I would’ve marched right into the Trojans camp into Achilles tent with a sharpened dagger, and then just as he sees I’m about to kill him, he kisses me and while I can’t quite forget Hector, I can seek solace from Achilles. True, he would’ve murdered my husband, but only because my husband murdered one of his best friends…war kind of sucks like that and I’m just going to try to make the best of a bad situation.
Anyway, on the way home from yoga…I began thinking…what is it that I really want from a man? Hmm…this is an excerpt from the scene that played in my mind.
Jack Blakeny (Like I could really choose between Percy and Capt. Jack?!): Oh dear, you look exhausted. Was yoga good? Did you get in those five miles with Mac this morning? Try this tilapia. I came home for lunch just to marinate it in this delicious lemon pepper and herb recipe I got from Emeril’s website. I hope you enjoy it.
Me: Oh, that sounds delicious. Jack, you’re so good to me.
JB: It’s easy to be so good to you. You’re one of a kind. I don’t even mind that you’re neurotic, masochistic, and a bit un-centered at times. I find your off-kilteredness crazily attractive. You’re unexaplainable compulsions are why I love you. Might I rub your feet? I know you work hard to maintain that perfect size two figure (because in this day dream I am a size two), but I would love you as a size six! In fact, let me loosen you up with a foot massage and some chocolate covered strawberries from Stephen Libs.
Me: Jack, honey, chocolate covered strawberries? I really couldn’t.
JB: Oh yes, you could. You try too hard to be perfect. Besides, it’s your imperfections I love.
Me: Oh all right (Jack feeds me a strawberry. Of course it is heavenly).
JB: I hope you don’t have plans for this weekend, but it’s our five-year, three month, two weeks, and one day anniversary this weekend so I chartered a plane to fly us to New York and see Wicked. And I just got the call today that the amazing black ostrich-skin Hermes Birkin bag I ordered for you on our wedding is in. I hope you like it.
Me: You ordered me a $20,000 dream purse on our wedding day?
JB: Of course. If course. You’re sister told me how much you’d like them. Oh, and I got you these limited edition Bulgari sunglasses to match. The sales clerk at Saks said they have Swarovski crystals on them and that detail is great. I hope you enjoy them. They’ll look great paired with your Harry Winston blue diamonds earings and matching necklace.
Me: But Jack, I don’t have Harry Winston. You buy me Tiffany’s.
JB: All the manuals say that if a woman can put up with you for over five years, then you should buy her Harry Winston’s diamonds and nothing less. And I know how partial you are to the Yankees, so I figured blue would be a perfect color. And do you know how extremely rare blue diamonds are? About as rare as the Dali painting I bought for you at an auction yesterday.
Me: I do hope you mean a print.
JB: You’re cute when you’re silly. Why on earth would I buy a print?
Me: Because Dali’s are worth millions.
JB: You my dear are worth trillions…no quadrillions…honey, you’re priceless! And to show my love, I also have this for you.
Me: A black AMEX?
JB: The sky’s the limit.
Me: What’s going on?
JB: I just found out today that I am the descendant of Charlemagne. A huge treasure was uncovered and we are now the world’s richest family on the earth. Do you want me to buy Microsoft?
Me: No, too many viruses.
JB: Very well, Apple. Did you happen to look out back? I know how much you love those old GTOs so I bought you a vintage cherry-red GTO convertible with white leather trim. Of course, that’s your toy. You’re practical car is now a new Aston Martin Raptide which should be pulling up to the house in a matter of minutes. And I do so hope you enjoy working with Karl. George is picking him up the airport. He’ll be designing your new wardrobe.
Me: George? Karl? What are you talking about, Jack?
JB: (laughs) George is our new driver. He’s picking up Karl Lagerfeld from the airport. Don’t tell me your sister lied to me about your favorite designer. Anyway, I made some calls and once Karl found out just how royal we were are, because Charlemagne’s dynasty encompasses pretty much all kingdoms of the world, he was more than happy to meet with us. It’ll be red carpet all the way. Did I mention I was buying the Yankees? And I know how in love with Derek Jeter you’ve always been, so feel free to enjoy his hospitality for one night, but one night only, because I don’t want to get too jealous.
Me: Wait?! What! Lagerfeld is designing my wardrobe? You bought the Yankees!
JB: Why not buy the most-storied franchise in all of sports. Steinbrenner tried to play hardball, but he was no match for my negotiation skills. I showed Derek your picture. He said he had never seen a more beautiful woman. And I did mention how amazing your chocolate chip cookies were. Want me to call him for you?
Me: Jack, I’m not going out with Derek Jeter.
JB: But sweetie, you said he was your celeb crush.
Me: And you said yours was Giselle.
JB: I just said that to make you jealous. Do you really think some Brazilian super model is more attractive or loveable than you? Why, I’m sure she thinks Charlemagne is just a champagne. And if it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve put those clues together to find that missing treasure. Imagine that the old family bible was valuable. But you saw the true value hidden inside it.
Me: That was my pirate-fascination. I love a good quest, you know that. And that map looked really old. I’m glad we took it to that lab. So, a treasure?
JB: That’s right, your Highness.
Me: You’ve been tracking down clues from that old bible all this time.
JB: Rather Da Vinci Code of me, huh?
Me: I just…I can’t…why I can’t believe this is happening. Jack! We’re rich? And we’re royal descendants?
JB: That’s what I’ve been explaining to you, sweetie. Oh, by the way, I called Neiman’s and described your looks to a personal shopper. We’re having tea with the Queen by the way tomorrow afternoon. A stop-off before Wicked.
Me: The Queen?
JB: The Queen of England. Do you know we’re know more royal than her! And wealthier! Oh, here’s your gown!
Me: Jack, $15,000 gown.
JB: You don’t like it?
Me: It’s Vera, I love it! But this is all handstitching. It’s…
JB: Coming from a man’s point of view, I think you’ll look rather hot in it, but what do I know. You’re sexy in everything! Even your work clothes.
Me: Jack! Be serious.
JB: I am, but you’d be even sexier out of them!
Me: Jack…
JB: I’m serious, Erin. If you don’t get stripped right now, I’m getting rid of everything I just for you.
Me: That’s blackmail.
JB: Don’t act like that doesn’t turn you on.
Me: (Rolling me eyes), Ok, fine!
The rest I will keep to myself, but I will say this – it does require the unclothing of both parties. Ah, dream man…Mr. Darcy, Sir Percy, Capt. Jack…wherever you are…you’re out there…with your impeccable taste and amazing treasure that needs to be uncovered! Until then, you’ll remain in my thoughts!
Love,
Erin, your one and only!
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