Tag Archives: Entertainment

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A Few Good Men

I once went out for pasta with a guy I will call Mr. Boy.

He, like most of the men I’ve dated, was tall, dark-haired, and had one of those smiles that’ll make you look twice. To be completely honest…that’s about all I remember about him. I can’t recall how we met or how long we hung out. I have no idea what he’s up to now, what he did after we split, or where he’s living. This isn’t because he didn’t make an impression on me, but rather because of the poor taste he left in my mouth.

As we were chatting, sharing stories, and getting to know each other on our second date, Mr. Boy brought up a topic that was sensitive to him. It wasn’t anything too personal or too traumatic (as far as I could tell from knowing him a few weeks), but right there, in the middle of our dinner, he started crying. And he didn’t just get a little misty-eyed, but actually, literally, sobbed and shook. Stunned, I didn’t know how to respond other than turning on my mothering methods by patting his back and shielding him from the stares of other patrons. I may have even “Shh”ed him and encouraged him to finish his ravioli because it’d make him feel better. He eventually calmed down, yet continued to pout as he soaked up the leftover sauce with pieces of bread he tore up into tiny pieces.

When the check came, he did not offer to pay for it or reach for it, even though he had invited me to be his company for the evening. In between sniffles, he asked, “So, just split it down the middle then, yeah?” I gave him a little grin and complied, though he must have been oblivious to not notice my disdain. As we were both signing on the dotted line, he suggested under his breath, “The service wasn’t great, so don’t feel like you need to give 20 percent or anything.” At the time, I bit my tongue to protect my class, but today, I would have replied with, “Well, the company wasn’t all that great, so I don’t feel like I need to stay any longer.” Eh, coulda, shoulda, woulda.

After he walked me home and I gave him the cheek treatment instead of a good-night kiss (or a night-cap, as he was hoping for), I closed the door, leaned up against it, and slid down to hug my knees. I didn’t, in fact cry, but I heaved a sigh he could probably feel as he headed back to his place. Probably to wrap himself up in a big blanket and fall completely to pieces while eating ice cream and listening to a Celine Dion on repeat, I thought at the time. Out of nothing but utter frustration, I glared up at the universe and directly asked a question, fully expecting to receive an answer:

Where are the men? I’m so sick of dating boys.

Now, don’t get me wrong – I’m not one of those women who thinks her man must be a cowboy, a jock, or lead the free world to victory. I believe a man should display his emotions, isn’t always responsible for picking up the tab, and shouldn’t always be tough, rough, and direct as dudes are often portrayed or raised to be. However, no matter how many street smarts New York gives me, I will always be Southern sweet and hold myself (and others) to the goodness of manners. And frankly, crying on a date and being rude is unacceptable. Though I sympathized for him and the subject that broke him down, I also thought it was something he shouldn’t have brought up if he felt so strongly about it, and maybe more so – he shouldn’t expect me to console him. Or fix him or act like his mother.

I’m not sure what I would call this preferred method of conduct, but David Good (who you might know from The Bachelorette & The Bachelor Pad) – would call this The Man Code. Recently, Good and I shared a glass of Merlot and Maker’s Mark so he could explain to me the rules, according to dudes.

Good’s a Midwest guy who was raised to be a man. If he was outside sporting only a t-shirt in the weather New York’s been entertaining lately, he would have never shivered. If a lady needed an arm to steady her step, he’d graciously offer it. And when it comes to insecurities, though he has them – he’d never ask a woman to cure them or boost his confidence. While he believes vulnerability is an important element to developing feelings (he goes as far to say brutal honesty is the key to healthy love) – it is also something that’s reserved for a relationship.

When tears and the introduction of personal fears becomes intertwined in dating, and even at the pick-up stages at a bar, Good thinks men are playing on the fact women are caregivers to attract them. Because they know a girl will automatically say, “Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong? Are you okay? What can I get for you?” they use it to their advantage to make a gal feel comfortable. And to think, well, he’s actually in sync with his emotions – when in reality, Good thinks the guy just knows what card to play.

I”ve met a lot of boys who wanted me to tidy up their messes and let them lay in my lap of comfort. And when it comes to playing Ms. Fix-It with practically each man I’ve been serious with, I’m guilty as charged. I once witnessed Mr. Idea cry for 45 minutes over a cat that hadn’t even passed away, but was just more lethargic than lately. Regardless, for me, as independent and self-sufficient as I am, when Mr. Boy acted nothing like the man I picture myself being with, I couldn’t have escaped from his faster. So if he was using that little trick on me, he should have not played with a grown-up lady who wants to meet a partner, not take care of a child. For the record, I never called him back or responded to emails or text messages. He sent me flowers to let me know how “understanding” he was to my busy schedule, and I gave them away to my friends. It wasn’t really the crying that did me in – we all have moments of weakness – but the pity he sought from me, when we weren’t in a place where that was appropriate. I do, however, hope he found a chick who will dab the olive oil and tears as they drip down his face. It seems to be his preferred choice of luring a gal, anyways.

Good says guys should have “testicular fortitude” which is interesting way of putting: men should have balls. Or as I’d like to say it, men should come to the table as I do. We’re all human, we’re all full of flaws, we all have things we hate about ourselves, and personal qualities we adore. We all have a past, we’ve all felt the burn of loves that were, and we’ve all had the often wayward hope of all that’s to come. But, if we’re constantly looking for someone to complete us, someone to take all of negativity we project or have off of our shoulders, and bear it themselves – then we’ll never learn how to stand on our own. Or how to be a dynamic duo, instead of an overly dependent couple.

Because we’re not looking for a mate who will tuck us in at night, comb our hair, and tell us right from wrong. We aren’t looking for parents, we’re looking for our match. Someone who will step up to the plate with us, someone who will challenge us to turn our mind to face new lights, someone who will encourage us to let it all out, no matter what it is, but then move on and learn from it. I don’t want to be taken care of or depend on a man for my sanity, my finances, or my future – I can handle that just fine on my own. I would rather be with a guy who’s as in-tuned with himself as I am, and thus, instead of being half-people searching for each other to piece one single person together, we have two people to bring to a relationship. And as any sale at Barney’s will tell you – half-off is not nearly as incredible as two for one.

So while I’ve put up with a long list of boys in my dating history -I’m not giving up on the belief there are a few good men out there. In fact, I’ll demand nothing less than one. After all, I’d rather treat myself to dinner for one, the rest of my life, then to suffer through pasta with a pansy, even once more.

P.S. Confessions of a Love Addict is celebrating Valentine’s Day a little differently this year. We’ll make it more about the single ladies and less about flowers that’ll die in a day. To get involved, click here.

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Girl’s Got Game

It’s a story I don’t need to tell because it’s been told for decades before me, with different variations along the way: boy and girl meet and seem to hit it off, boy and girl exchange numbers, boy says he will call; girl waits around for approximately three days before “casually checking in” and officially starts freaking out.

As they say at the start of the Olympics, “Let the games begin.”

Sadly, as we figured out through “He’s Just Not That Into You” – our mind games and obsessing and reading into mixed signals (that maybe aren’t as complicated as we make them), start from the time we have that very first crush in kindergarten. By the time we reach middle school, we’ve decided who is in our league and who isn’t, and in high school, we fall so deeply in love with a sweetheart (could be reciprocated or unrequited) that we can barely stand to think of anything else. College rolls around and that first love syndrome leads to the first real heartbreak, and we battle the trenches of utterly confusing, mingled, and mangled “relationships” that may or may not have strings attached.

By the time we reach our 20s – if we haven’t mastered the game of love (and lust) in all of our battles and victories of the past, we decide either in frustration or in stride, that it’s time to start learning the tricks of the trade.

So we start dating Mr. Google, read blogs and articles that give us clues and how to give “the look” that’ll get us a drink and more, and we talk constantly (through BBM, Twitter, Facebook, Gchat, and so on) to our girlfriends, analyzing what we should do and what we shouldn’t, what he thinks and what he doesn’t think, if he’s interested or not interested.

And then, if you’re like me – you become such a pro at getting a man to look your way or ask you out on a date, that the whole first date scenario…sincerely becomes a play-by-play that you can predict. The game becomes irrelevant because it stops being interactive and you realize you’re just going through the motions as opposed to getting into the spirit and the energy of the practice.

I won’t say that I enjoy dating, but I also don’t dislike it completely either. One of the reasons I started this journey was due to the fact that I was getting too caught up in the “game” that I became discouraged. Dates were becoming absolutely and completely boring and I was sick of scripting what would happen before I even arrived at the restaurant.

I’m not sure if that means I mastered the game or I lost it.

Regardless, now I find myself at an odd crossroad. I’ve learned a lot from the dating scene, but because I’m not seeking (letting them come to me instead), a lot of the pressure has been taken off. I take some winning strategies with me on dates with guys, but I try to leave the fixation of expectations in the wind. I don’t project who I think they are, but I take them at their face value. And if he doesn’t call, well, he just doesn’t call and it’s time to turn on Jay-Z’s Onto The Next One.

The next man up to bat is Mr. Rescue. He’s been quite sweet this past week and pretty reliable with text messages and wit. Though I’m not quite sure where we’re going as I write this blog, we do have a reservation for dinner, and it’s snowing outside – so maybe I’ll get to kiss in the snow. As insignificant as it is, because I gave him a Mr title, he decided I needed one too, so he refers to me as Ms. Bradshaw. Quite cute, indeed.

And so far, I don’t feel like my head’s in the game or I’m really reading into anything. The obsession factor isn’t existent and I haven’t figured out if there is a chance for something of substance with him or not. If overcoming love addiction means learning to really take my time and choose what’s best with me, then I’m well on my way to health.

I don’t think a “game” is always necessary and I’d like to say that we should all stop being active members in the contests, but I don’t think it’ll ever go away. We all like some chasing, a spark of challenge, and a great story to tell the grandkids one day. As long as there is healthy sexual tension, the game will continue, and in the words of Shakespeare, we are all merely players.

Though I’m sure my rants and my analyzing (I am a Virgo, after all) will come back at some point, along with my first-date grilling methods – for all of you love addicts out there, like me, here are some pretty helpful tactics I’ve discovered that really help the game not seem so strenuous:

Don’t save his number.

I view my phone as the Holy Grail of my life. Maybe that’s a little extreme – but if you’re going to be saved in my phone, I either think you’re someone who is going to stick around or you have a voice I’d rather not hear. So when a guy gives me his number when I meet him, I take it – and then I delete it. And really, I don’t save it for a while – I think with Mr. Possibility, it took me about a month to allow him into my phone. This not only makes a guy seek you, but it prevents you from listening to the red, red wine when it whispers: “you should text that cute boy from Thursday” in your ear.

Ask open ended questions.

If you really want to get to know someone, ask them about themselves. Sounds simple enough, but as people we like to talk about ourselves and it is easy to go on and on about what you do, what you think, what you feel, on a first date. I’ve learned that if I slow down and let the guy open himself up a little bit, the date is far more enjoyable for me and I make better decisions for date two. Plus, if I’m totally not interested and can’t wait for the date to end, it gives me a break.

Stop making rules.

Ok – we all have boundaries and little things we usually stick-to-our guns about, but why are those so important at the start of dating? And really, why do we tell guys we’re on dates with, what our rules are? He goes in for a kiss and you say “I don’t do that on the first date!”, but why? That kiss could be the kiss that trumps all smooches to date –so why not try it out? And where did the three-day rule come from? Sure, it’s there, but it doesn’t have to be. When I loosened up on the rules, the game became so much easier and less complicated.

Make other plans.

In the past, when I first met a guy, I used to clear out my calendar for the weekend following “just in case” he texted me or wanted to wine-and-dine me. Yes, I’ve been that girl who cancelled plans with friends for a man, but really, chicks should always be before dicks – especially if it’s a man you don’t even know. Now, instead of “playing hard to get” or “being unavailable” – I really just have other things filling up my time. This isn’t playing the game; this is having a life outside of a man.

Demand dinner.

A lot of my friends in college and even now constantly ask me “how do you get so many guys to take you on an actual date and not just drinks or something casual?” Well, because I never agree to drinks. Maybe it’s my southern upbringing, but to me, if a guy wants to get to know me, I want to actually go on a date. This doesn’t mean a fancy restaurant with candles and flowers, but if a guy asks me if I’m free for drinks on Tuesday, I’ll say, “No, but I’m free for dinner on Friday.” Cocktails are for my girlfriends and I, not for my new male game player who I’m considering allowing getting to second base.

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Love Don’t Cost a Thing

For whatever reason, since the time I was a little girl, I’ve had a knack for people giving me things for free. In fact, my mom always says “People are drawn to you and want to give you whatever you want. You’re the Queen of Free!”

Maybe that’s true, or maybe I’m just lucky? Nevertheless, growing up, I’d walk into a store with my family and some employee or owner would hand me a stuffed animal, just because. As I got older, I was freely awarded with half-off dinner for no reason, free goods, and of course, once I was legal – free drinks.

And, being a journalist – I’m constantly sent different items to review for coverage. From high-end beauty products and at-home soda making machines to office supplies and my personal favorite – attendance at some expensive, snazzy events that I wouldn’t be able to go to otherwise, one of the reasons we accept being severely underpaid is for the perks.

Recently, to celebrate my royalties, a new great friend of mine, C, and I went to a fundraiser benefit for an animal shelter. Their marketing was excellent: free booze and puppies to greet you at the door. I mean, what woman couldn’t say no to that? (Or man for the matter?)

We arrive in the meatpacking district, decked out in heels and sparkle – and to our incredible surprise, we ordered a glass of Merlot and within seconds, an adorable puppy was in our hands. Needless to say, we were both in alcohol and adorable– induced heaven.

An hour later when the puppies reached their bedtime, they cranked up the music, and introduced a dance floor for the rest of the four-hour open bar. C and I did our rounds around the club, chatted with men from all over the world – which included South Africa, Detroit, Spain, and Rochester. We danced the night away with an array of talented dudes, including someone I’d like to call Mr. Moves, who while is far from my type, was thoroughly entertaining for the evening. We snapped pictures that even landed on a local New York website and consumed just enough wine to keep us warm and giggly.

As the evening came to a close, around two in the morning, we hobbled out of the club into the cold rain – and as expected, I sniffed some great smelling food coming from a food vendor and I managed to get a group of guys to buy both C and I munchies before we caught the train home. I believe we blew them a kiss as we disappeared into the New York night.

On the way back to my apartment, where my bed was calling my name (and a lovely air mattress for C) – I found myself singing on the train, happily satisfied with the evening I had, and more than ready to have an easy night’s rest.

The next day, after C and I laughed endlessly about the fun event, recounted stories, and appropriately downed orange juice and Advil – I thought about how so much of what I love the most…is free.

Sure, I may be given tangible things, like tickets to events, products, and food – but nothing compares to shakin’ it with a good friend or being able to laugh like little girls into the night because the Merlot made you feel merry. Or the feeling when I’m walking through the city, knowing that a moment’s notice – I could be in Rockefeller Center, Times Square, Central Park, the West Village, or Soho.

And admittedly, when Mr. Possibility kisses the side of my head as we walk (not hand-in-hand) through little shops and pop-up craft fairs. Even though we desire it so much, hope that it is meant for us, and feel like it cost us everything if we lose it – J.Lo is right, love don’t cost a thing. Not just romantically-inclined love, but the love you have between girlfriends, between your family members, between your city and yourself. And though we worry about giving our love away freely – there is no other way to present it.

While receiving goodies for free always makes my day (having a package in front of my door still excites me like a child) – what makes it even more is feeling that immense love in my soul. Feeling my heart swell up with so much cheerfulness, so much thanksgiving, so much wonder – that no material thing on this Earth could compare.

Being the Queen of Free is fine by me, but I think I’d rather call myself the Queen of Love, who has the freedom to love everything around her, man or no man, Dior or no Dior – and still be absolutely happy.

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Tempted By the Fruit of Moving Forward

One of my best friends, R is having a hard time getting over her ex-boyfriend. For the sake of this blog, we’ll call him Mr. Bail.

I was a big fan of Mr. Bail when R and him started dating. He was so incredibly in love with her, always supportive, and he broke her out of this protective shell she kept herself in. Generally speaking, even though he’s younger than me, he’s an attractive guy and most importantly, R was very happy and as long as she’s smiling that lovely grin of hers, I’m satisfied.

However, when R and Mr. Bail started running into complications and some terribly dramatic situations – he did what his name suggests: he bailed. It seemed like when the fantastic turned to the detrimental or difficult, instead of stepping up to the plate to face his (or their) problems, he tucked his tail and ran away. While it is never a stand-up choice to make, at the specific time he chose to be a coward, R was going through a time in her life that no woman should ever have to experience, especially at 19-years-old.

Though R has handled all of the many surprises and transitions with beautiful grace, because of the rollercoaster that’s defined her life for the past year-or-so, she’s had a tough time cutting the final chord from her relationship with Mr. Bail. She doesn’t want to be with the kid (and I use the word “kid” because of his lack of maturity) anymore and her romantic inclinations have declined, but she wants this settling peace of closure. And possibly, a friendship. Because we often rely on each other to handle our freak-outs (they get a little messy), she sent me a text yesterday that asked: “Will it take dating someone else to fully get over everything I went through with Mr. Bail?”

And without even thinking, I replied with: “Yes,” and gave her an example. Of course, because she’s just as inquisitive as I am (and I love her for it) – she said, “Why does it always take someone else? I want to be able to do it on my own.”

To release the most recent boyfriend who lingers in our minds and our hearts, no matter how hard we try, do we have to meet a new man to erase the after-taste of an ex?

My dad hasn’t really given me a lot of relationship advice other than “You’re so beautiful, so wonderful, so amazing, so incredible and there will be a perfect man who will be everything you ever needed. And he’ll have to ask my permission to marry you!” If you can’t tell, I’m the apple-of-his-eye, and he would say anything to bring a smile to my face. Since I started this blog (which he reads every single day) – I’ve had to correct and him and say, “Now, Dad, it isn’t about finding love from a man, but finding love for myself as a single woman!” He usually mumbles something that has the word “grandchildren” and “true love” and we move on to another topic.

However, one thing he has always said other than threatening to call the “mafia” on my ex-boyfriends, is: “To stop crying about one, you should find another.” To heal your heart, according to my pops, you just move onto another guy. When R texted me, I got to thinking about how I’ve honestly moved on from guy-to-guy in my dating history, and it occurred to me that I’ve been following my father’s advice…without even knowing.

When Mr. Curls and I broke up, it took until meeting Mr. Faithful to let go of him completely. When Mr. Faithful and I broke up it took Mr. Rebound for me to fully release his 3-year-old hold on me. And then when Mr. Rebound became well, just a rebound – it wasn’t until Mr. Fire that I stopped beating myself up for allowing Mr. Rebound to trick me. And then when the embers burnt out with Mr. Fire, Mr. Buddy went back to my friend, and Mr. Fling stopped flinging me up against walls – I met Mr. Idea. And I fell in love with him. If I’m honest, I still have feelings for him, and in some strange sort of way Mr. Unavailable is helping me to let of Mr. Idea, even though Mr. Unavailable is romantically unattainable.

Whew.

While it seems like they were right after another, my dating history is nearly 10 years long and even though I had so many wonderful travels, uncountable adventures, massive accomplishments, a few moves, and excelling health – at every point in my life, I have always been getting over or starting to fall for a guy. Of course, I’ve consumed ungodly amounts of Chardonay, danced with strangers at bars, downed Ben & Jerry’s, and obsessively cried and talked to my best friends to release the strings of love-gone-astray – but I never fully let go until I had a man to let me lean on him. Does moving to another dude help because all of those loving, initmiate moments that you once shared with another, are now replaced with someone new? Or because then you feel validated by capturing the interest and intrigue of a new man?

R proposed a very reasonable question that I never considered: How do we do it on our own? How do we get over someone without depending on another hand to hold, lips to touch, or body to graze? Without a rebound or the next-relationship?

Well, I don’t know. I admittedly haven’t done it.

I think though, it starts with taking a step back from emotions, from the heartache, from the projections of what I thought the love would be, and start looking at the relationship (and its demise) at face-value. Instead of turning moving on into a competition like I usually do (who meets someone new first? Who is smiley and unaffected first?) or spending time dwelling in the coulda-woulda, and looking for a new flame – why not focus on ourselves? Spend time alone. Do things solo. Take a trip without anyone else in tow. Stop looking for a man to feel the gap that another one left, and fill it up with admiration for yourself and your many beauties and gifts.

And practically speaking, think before leaping. Sure, as I’ve experienced, being tempted by the fruit of another can be a great tool to escape from pain – but it never really heals those wounds fully. The minute we are actually single in between the last guy and the guy who will be next – we’re left thinking of every boyfriend, lover, or jerk there ever was.

If we took that time to really figure ourselves out, and dare I say – love ourselves without thinking of the past or future companions, maybe we’d actually own that leading leading lady role in our own lives. Without all the drama and love triangles that come up. And we surely wouldn’t be that annoying supporting actress who jumps from heart to heart, bed to bed, never recovering from the one who was there before.

No, we’d just look at ourselves for all the scars and bruises we have, and realize that it is really just self-love and a precious thing called time, that helps us to mend…instead of the guy we’re going out with on Friday.

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Make-Believe Boyfriends

When I was a kid, I played a lot of make believe.

From cops and robbers with my next door neighbor and Mary Kate & Olsen detectives (forgive me, please) with my childhood best friend to Peter Pan & Wendy with my pre-school playmate – I was always imagining a world outside of my own. And, when my friends and I took a more classic approach and played “house” – I refused to be anything but the girl because well, I am a girl, after all.

I can remember full days of pretending to be something else – a princess, a mermaid, a singer, a movie star, and of course, a reporter. There was something magical and wildly entertaining about escaping from reality and entering into a new realm where I could be free to explore and to capture a persona I didn’t actually embody. Plus, who doesn’t enjoy a great dress up (even today!)?

As we get older, the masks we put on and the roles we play change, and while it’s not make-believe, per se, we present ourselves in different manners depending on what the time or situation calls for. We can turn on happy-and-enthralled while at a networking event, or super-duper professional for work, or pseudo-interested for a date that’s going all wrong.

And sometimes, if we are clever enough to trick even our most difficult critic, ourselves, we can pretend we’re in a relationship when we’re not. We can even call them non-dates and non-relationships and non-love because we’re calm, cool, and collected about the situation. We can even have sex without terms or conditions or without saying the infamous three words or without spoken expectations.

But – in terms of love and well, dignity – is it ever healthy to play make-believe with a man? Or is it better to send Mr. Non-Committal back to where he came from?

I can’t say I’m in the situation where I’m seeing someone I want to call my boyfriend or I want to be exclusive with. But, I will admit, without giving names or specifics, that I’ve dated a few guys that could have possibility in this big, beautiful city. Somehow, though, my relationship with myself is currently trumping all of them. Call me selfish and self-absorbed with this journey, and I’ll nod my head in agreement – but somehow, the getting to self-love is helping me grow in leaps-and-bounds, without requiring a man in the mix.

Though, as I’ve been going on non-dates and kissing non-boyfriends – I’ve thought a lot about the relationships we go through as single ladies that never “technically” (by Facebook standards, anyways) ever become official. Does a lack of a title or commitment make them less important or influential? Or is a label something we place on a courtship because with commitment comes a promise that we can depend on?

I’m not sure if actually becoming a pair as opposed to just mimicking one, truly changes the relationship – but I will say that playing make-believe with love doesn’t result in a happy ending…in the long run. But at the beginning, before happily ever after, I think a period of pretend is necessary.

The reasons for make-believe and dress up in the first place – where it be as a little girl or a 20-something woman – are to test the waters and try something new that you enjoy. How do we know if we will ever be a famous celebrity if we never act? Or how can we be sure we’d accept the princess lifestyle if we don’t give it a whirl in our minds? (I doubt any of us would decline putting on Kate’s shoes, though). The same goes with any new courtship with a dude – if we don’t act like we’re in a relationship, without the title or the supporting documents, we can’t be sure we really want to be part of an “us” with them.

At some point, the talk we all dread bringing up needs to be addressed – but when you’re just starting to get to know someone, why rush? Before I started this journey, as soon as I started remotely liking a guy, I was damned-and-determined to reel him ‘em and put a “taken” bow on his forehead (and profile). I wanted to do everything and anything in my power to make sure he made me his girlfriend so that I wouldn’t risk losing him to another chick.

But now, instead of letting myself get lost in the rush and the romance and visions of our kids and what my last name would be – I step back, I enjoy his company, and most importantly, I just take it slow. I picture in my head and feel what it would be like to be by his side, on a permanent basis, and I figure out if I want to move to the reality of a relationship or if playing pretend for a while is all I really need. While I do want a committed relationship one day, there is no need to be Ms. Committed when I first meet someone.

There is no hurry, no reason to worry – because if during playtime you realize you don’t want to be a fairy princess or a famous musician or a girlfriend – you just take off the crown, put down the mic, and let go of his hand…and go back to you. But if you do happen to enjoy it, while playing make-believe, that magic you feel reminds you that anything is possible.