Sometimes I think love is an accident. Emotional attachment seems to come around in the weirdest ways. I worry it’s all hard-wired responses and there’s really no such thing as romantic love. We just let our brains fool us awhile; it’s for the continuation of the species or something.
I want a friend who will make me feel good. But someone who’s lap I can curl up in, too. I want this impossible person who will let me bawl my eyes out into his chest over recent disappointments, but when I’m ready, he’ll be there with all his perfect mate qualities, and a surprise bonus of being bite-your-lip sexy in bed.
And I want the best chocolate in the world developed, a kind that’s nutritious and low-calorie. I want to have the ability to transport myself with the snap of a finger to anywhere I want. And I wish to have the ability to tan.
Truth be told, all I really want right now is a sandwich.