If I stayed in Seattle I would find me a man.
One who works at Boeing.
Or for the Gates Foundation.
OOohhh yeah baby. The Gates Foundation.
He’d be smart but down to earth and handsome in a rugged way.
He’d be real and self deprecating (but only enough to still be charming.)
He’d be laid back and when I objected to his sister’s suggestion that we raise the kids on the paleo diet he’d shrug his shoulders and back me up.
We’d go on hikes some weekends but we’d go to brunch some weekends too.
He would understand, encourage, and celebrate my east coast sensibilities which cause me to wear a bra every singe day and engage in the occasional bout of witty banter requiring sarcasm.
We’d get a dog and take it on long walks around our gentrified neighborhood where our little two bedroom bungalow stood.
I’d grow a garden and the kids would help me pick the fresh vegetables and fruits it yielded.
I’d buy fancy little lunchboxes and challenge myself to send my children to school with the fanciest lunches ever.
When the weather started to make me crazy we’d get away to Hawaii.
We’d drive a hybrid.
We’d eat too much salmon.
We’d have subscriptions and memberships to the theaters and museums downtown.
We’d wear flannel in all our family portraits.
We’d buy stock in Marmot and Columbia.
We’d smell like teen spirit.
He’d want me to go camping.
I would resist but eventually give in.