Michelle and Me

Dearest annonymous reader: If you and I should ever meet in the world that exists beyond the borders of this enchanted world of Open Diary, please don’t be disappointed. You see, it’s just simply a small matter of reality vs. fiction. Here in this realm of written word, I enjoy a free pass to…let’s say…embellish at will…you know, to present myself to you in the most favorable way that I can…in order that you will assess me in the most favorable way that you can.
Wait a second. I don’t really know what that means except that I am trying to tell you that maybe I am not as polished, or as wise, or as kick-ass as I pretend to be here on OD. There, I’ve admitted it and I don’t feel ashamed about it! I mean, hey, if you are going to spend your precious time on reading my hyperbole, then I suppose that I must owe you a bit of honesty every once in a while.
So…here goes. There are two versions of my tale…one is the Open Diary interpretation…the other one is what really happens…please don’t judge too harshly…

OD: So, here we go again, me and Michelle. Yes, the same Michelle that I have been chasing for nearly a decade. I think that she has finally realized that she can’t live without me because she has invited me to her new home for dinner. Probably a desperate last attempt to catch me, the elusive Lone Wolf, the eternal shining star that she has cast countless wishes upon. It’s okay; I will drop by and give her a moment of hope while she basks in my presence.

Reality: As I am walking up to Michelle’s door, I notice my silhouette scuttling alongside of me against the brick wall. Oh my God! Is that shadow from me…or Alfred Hitchcock! When did I get so chunky? I try sucking in my stomach, but it would take the energy of a nuclear explosion to make my belly look flat. And for Heaven’s sake man…straighten your shoulders! Act like you still have a tiny amount of muscle tone left somewhere in your body.

OD: Michelle opens the door and gasps subtly. I smile at her and wonder if she can prevent herself from melting under the gaze of my bedroom eyes.

Reality: Michelle opens the door and gasps subtly. “Are you okay? It looks like you are about to pass out!”
I sputter, “That’s a long walk…”puff, puff”…from my car to your door!” Michelle arches her eyebrows, “Maybe I should of met you at your car with a wheelchair…and an oxygen bottle”.

OD: Michelle looks great in her light summer dress. The material clings to her body, accentuating her feminine curves. I can tell by the way that she moves that she is trying to entice me. I know that I look fine in my form-fitting, exposing-just-enough jeans. She is having trouble concentrating on the preparation of dinner.

Reality: Michelle looks great in her light summer dress. The material clings to her body, accentuating her feminine curves. As she catches me leering at her, one of the buttons from my way-too-small jeans pops and bounces across the tiled floor. Her dog runs after it barking.  She is having trouble concentrating on the preparation of dinner, fearing that the next button may hit her. She puts a metal mixing bowl on her head to use as a helmet…just in case.

OD: I witness an incredible exorcise in self control as it is all that Michelle can do to make it through dinner before ravishing me. She is, after all, only human!

Reality: Michelle is bored, having long ago finished her petite portion of dinner. I myself am still gorging like a herd of buffalo on the open plains. As I am grunting and rooting through my numerous plates, I witness an incredible exorcise in self control as it is all that Michelle can do to make it through dinner before falling asleep in her chair. Her dog is patiently waiting for the next button to pop.

OD: The next morning, Michelle generously offers to make me breakfast, but I graciously give her a reprieve. It was a long night of passion and I know that she is still quivering in the glow of my magical talents. It was a beautiful night shared with an even more beautiful woman!

Reality: After I wake up, slumped over the table, facedown in the few mashed potatoes left on my plate, Michelle is amazed to see that I am again hungry. She generously offers to make me breakfast, I of course graciously accept. When the homemade biscuits are done, she tosses one out of the front door and watches as both me and the dog chase after it. Then she rolls her eyes, shakes her head and locks the door…and changes her phone number…and hires a bodyguard…and…and…dammit…the stupid dog gets to the biscuit first…and…I clutch my sagging, now buttonless pants, waddle to my car and drive home…it was a beautiful night shared with an even more beautiful woman!

Take care.