Tim

At some point, my sister-wife Josie and I decided the future love of my life is named Tim.  There was some miscommunication over text, some autocorrect situation, long-forgotten, that resulted in this prediction.  Tim is the best.  Tim can really do no wrong.  We love Tim.  Almost as much as he loves me.

Recently, my friend/sisters Evany and Megan and I had a long text discussion about Tim.  According to Megan, he’s uber-rich yet humble, five to ten years older than I am, and loves my kids.  And he’s bald, “like Mr. Clean bald”.  I agreed, bald as a cue ball but so sweet.  And Megan said, no no no, you don’t like sweet.  I argued for the tiniest hint of sweet - it was approved.  Tim is mostly umami.

Tim is 6’4”, he can build a house with his hands out of reclaimed wood, he has successful grown kids that adore him, or maybe teenagers since I love teenagers and I would make an excellent step-mom-friend.  He has a couple flaws (I mean we are realistic, people, WE ARE NOT LIVING IN A FANTASY) - he’s slightly hard of hearing and can’t see without his (very cute) glasses.  He’s funny.  He reads.  He has a functional penis.  He doesn’t let me pay for anything.

He has dimples, good taste and can cook.  He argues well - respectfully, open-heartedly.  He loves my friends (not difficult).  He’s athletic but not obsessive.  He surfs.  Sometimes he surfs with Marco and Tony, Evany and Megan’s husbands.  He has a wood-burning fireplace that he uses on a regular basis (but never on spare-the-air days).  He also has a beach house (what can I say, Tim is amazing).  We’ll get married (at the beach house) after ten years of dating and I’ll wear Megan’s vintage white Halston jumpsuit.

He can be named anything, we decided, but we will call him Tim.  I thought he was an architect but Megan said no.  Architects make no money, are “arrogant as fucks” AND are often alcoholics (what architect did Megan wrong?).  I added he’s also not in marketing or brand development or advertising (what marketing guy did me wrong?).  Finally we came to the conclusion that he’s semi-retired from finance and now does pro-bono work for the poor.  A foundation that educates underprivileged architects (if there is such a thing, Megan says there is).  

At first we thought that he travels a lot for work and fun and he takes me with him.  But then we realized that I travel a lot for work and fun and I take him with me.

Tim finds me utterly adorable.  Especially without make-up, in overalls, with my hair sticking up.

So then Evany said, “I wonder what Tim’s friends are saying about you right now?”

She’s 5’8” and knows how to use power tools.  They think my name is Sara but that’s fine, they can call me Sara.

Ok, maybe Tim isn’t rich, isn’t 6’4”, doesn’t support poverty-stricken architects.   But what if he does exist?  What if he’s out there right now at this minute?  Wandering around, putting one foot in front of the other, pondering the nature of romantic love, fucking discouraged.  Unaware that Sara is just around the corner.

Sara and Tim.  That’s going to be one fun wedding.  Sandy but fun.  Though somebody needs to tell those drunk underprivileged architects to stop making toasts.  Because Megan and Evany and Josie have something to say.