De Ce Monde Secret de l’ Amelie Americaine

“That says a lot about his character.” said Mr. Republican Hair Part, as I recounted the story of Mr. Motorcycle’s continued flirtation, and but inability to take the risk to ask me out on a proper date.

“I agree. The men at work are always in through the side door and out the back” I said, believing in our meeting of the minds, yet perilously aware of the dangerous emotional waters I was walking into.

I have a small confession. There is a growing part of my idealizing and adoring feminine psyche that takes a lot of comfort in the thought of being with someone like him. Someone who is fiercely intelligent and cultured, opens doors for the woman in his life, and is neither cynical nor suspicious about a woman’s need to be looked at, slightly doted on, and understood for her moods.

I have another confession. I was also always the sort of leftist, regrettably pierced and tattooed, rebelliously artistic girl who had the secret crush on a boy in the conservative Izod t-shirt and khaki pants, despite his diametrically opposing political views. I never back down from a good discussion. Honest disagreement, is like foreplay.

As I have moved closer to the center of my beliefs a better me has emerged. Even my tattoo seems out of place and is slated to be removed by my dermatologist next month. I realize there is a new and happier me emerging as well. I am not the girl I was in my twenties, and the men are starting to finally notice.

My final and rather embarrassing confession. I thought Tucker Carlson and his little bow tie were kind of hot, up until his unfortunate appearance on Dancing with the Stars.

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