Monday, January 14, 2013

Why I do it

I click the thing to download the show where the chubby girl snags the obnoxious guy – Mr. Darcy in argyle and skinny jeans – because it activates that part of me, the heart part that doesn’t get much use unless it’s breaking.  She looks at him with the puppy eyes and my heart turns over, whining like the tired, cranky motor of a ’79 Pinto in the side-yard shed.  It’s waiting for me, for a day when the world feels safe enough, a day when I will push back the dusty blue tarp and settle my hips into one of its deep bucket seats, a day when the Pinto and I will take to the highway and love like we’ve got a thousand miles of open road and a lifetime full of nowhere to be.