Vanity Fair

I was entertaining some impossibilities this afternoon/evening. Normal, daydreamy-type stuff, you know, the kind where you meet Jake Gyllenhaal in Tiffany's wearing Audrey Hepburn's black dress and it turns out he's not gay! The mental rambling gradually turned into some internal pontificating about the nature of relationships and how some guys fall for me despite seeming completely mis-matched. (I am here thinking specifically of my Hippie Ex)

The thing you, my imaginary male audience, need to know is this: I am pink shoes. Little pink kitten heels, worn completely unironically, if you must know. I am colorful t-shirts and the occasional ribbon in the hair. I show my affection through baked goods and meals. I am rarely drunk, and even more rarely drunk in public. I have difficulty believing in anything New Age; even fashion design and music gets a little out there for me at times. I read Vogue.

I do not wear pearls. I will wear diamonds. I hate the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's but I love Sabrina. I almost always wear blue jeans except for the times when I swear off them. I wear long skirts more often than short because I think they're sexier and because I'm self-conscious about my legs. I am smarter than I look. I am much, much stupider than people think I am. I am more intelligent than I give myself credit for.

I fall for men who want to hitchhike across the country when I want to marry someone who makes more money than I do. (this is unlikely) I love men who unexpectedly drop out of college to build houses in the Appalachians when I dumped an old boyfriend for failing ochem three times. I start relationships that will never end well.

I only ever buy three things when I shop: sweaters, underwear, and skirts. I still wear the same shirts from high school. I have twenty sweaters but one pair of jeans that are entire and fit.

I shop at J. Crew. I lust after Burberry and Chanel. I have never said the word "fart" to a boyfriend. When I'm feeling very daring wardrobe-wise, I match my shoes to my underwear and then laugh when people tell me my outfit doesn't go.

I value integrity and competancy. I am a fast-talker. I text on my cellphone daily. Unless I am wearing flipflops or on my way to the gym, I am wearing heels.

I have read Lolita more times than I can count. I have deep opinions on many major works but I read Bridget Jones at least once a year. I will probably never do my own taxes. The bookstore will always be my favorite place to shop. I love to read good writing. I am a terrible writer.

I want the American Dream, right down to the rick-rack edged apron and golden retriever. In my little pink heels.