Eureka, she was right! I too have a dream, Martin Luther King Jr. Except my dream is to marry rich.
(Just me, reading my journal)You see, I've always dreamed that my first marriage would be to an older, well-off gentleman. It could wind up being my only marriage; I have yet to decide how bearable I'll find it and how old this first husband will be. Either way, I will definitely take on the Pool Boy as my lover.
My Latin Lover to be exact. He will be toned and have a sparklingly white smile. He will whisper sweet nothings to me in Spanish. He will worship me. He will drive a motorcycle to my house. He will not have plans of being a businessman or accountant, of going to college, because those dreams will only bring me down and make me feel guilty. He will just be happy to be my Pool Boy. The future will not exist and we will live ravenously in the "here and now".
Why not just find someone like this in real life and marry THEM, you ask? Well, because then the fantasy is dead. When the Pool Boy and I start arguing over which way to put the toilet paper roll on the holder (always so the loose end comes over the top towards you) and who used the last of the milk in their coffee (aHA! I've been taking mine black), and he sees me in my glasses and old flannel pajama pants (fair enough, not my best look), the electricity fizzles. I want a husband and I want romance, safety and excitement, to eat the cake that someone else purchased because goddamn do I love cake. The Pool Boy is simply my means to an entertaining end.
And to think I almost let that dream die by falling in love with someone new and thinking maybe, just maybe, I should give it all up and marry them instead! I was thisclose to letting my dream get away from me.
Never stop chasing your dreams.
My Latin Lover to be exact. He will be toned and have a sparklingly white smile. He will whisper sweet nothings to me in Spanish. He will worship me. He will drive a motorcycle to my house. He will not have plans of being a businessman or accountant, of going to college, because those dreams will only bring me down and make me feel guilty. He will just be happy to be my Pool Boy. The future will not exist and we will live ravenously in the "here and now".
Why not just find someone like this in real life and marry THEM, you ask? Well, because then the fantasy is dead. When the Pool Boy and I start arguing over which way to put the toilet paper roll on the holder (always so the loose end comes over the top towards you) and who used the last of the milk in their coffee (aHA! I've been taking mine black), and he sees me in my glasses and old flannel pajama pants (fair enough, not my best look), the electricity fizzles. I want a husband and I want romance, safety and excitement, to eat the cake that someone else purchased because goddamn do I love cake. The Pool Boy is simply my means to an entertaining end.
And to think I almost let that dream die by falling in love with someone new and thinking maybe, just maybe, I should give it all up and marry them instead! I was thisclose to letting my dream get away from me.
Never stop chasing your dreams.
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