In a perfect world where everything is possible the following scenario exists.

Married with the least attractive abercrombie and fitch guy which by any other scale is only second to greek gods (what can I say, Gabe’s got taste). He is an entrepreneur, me a front office manager for a high end hotel. In the process of adopting our first kid. At last settled down somewhere in a cul-de-sac with white picket fence.

It’s a regular friday night, both home from work about to head out for a dinner party at a neighbor’s house. It’s a nice atmosphere. There is a fire pit outside and we’re all spread around it, warming ourselves up on a chilly summer night. I get the latest tea about office drama while hubby is talking sports with the bros. I turn to him, butcher a french accent, compliment his sexy ass, he’s embarrassed, his friends have a good laugh at his expense, he makes a quick quip at one of them, he is back on top ladies and gentlemen. We all have a good laugh at our own expense, me for being a goof, him for being a good sport. He’s lucky to have me. I’m even luckier to be in his mere presence.

There are globe bulbs patio string lights across the yard, the fire is crackling, music playing in the background, the politics are boring reminiscing when they were batshit crazy, you know things are great, better than they’ve ever been. The only way to go is up. We both can hold our own but we’re a whole lot stronger together. We’re strong on our own merits but together we’re taking over the world. We’re the envy of the neighborhood but we’re humble ones so we dare to share how it’s done. Pardon me for feeling a little smug here.

[…]

We end the end by retreating to our nest, we go upstairs, slowly crawl into bed, turn on a movie that he likes but I watch to make him happy, I fall asleep midway safely in his arms knowing that when I wake up he is there and it wasn’t all a blur.