“My Valentine’s Day Fantasy, Part II”

      In just a twenty-four hour period, nearly fifty people have already viewed, “My Valentine’s Day Fantasy.”  Only one person commented but people have been reading this, which leads me to realize some things:  

1. I should finish the ending.
2. More people are drawn to the word, “fantasy” than they are fitness (as they outnumbered my high ranking fitness article hits). 
3. People could not comment because they do not have anything nice to say, or… there could also be just as many people who don’t want others knowing they were drawn to read someone else’s fantasy. 

No matter which category you fall under, without further adieu, here is the ending I’ve written on the fly and partially one-handed as I balance my youngest on my hip, entitled, “My Valentine’s Day Fantasy, Part II.”

“My Valentine’s Day Fantasy, Part II” 

“Mom!!!! There’s a knock at the door!!!”  Johnny yells as I turn my hair iron off and make my way out of the bathroom, then down the hall towards the door having a sense of déjà vu from my dream, wondering what the chances of Nanny Deb showing on my doorstep might be.

I finally make it to the door and look through the peephole on the door.  No one there. 

I open the door and start to close it when something red catches my attention on the outside of the door.  

There was a red heart-shaped card taped to it.  I take the card and go back inside, closing the door behind me.

“What’s its say?! What’s it say?!”  Johnny excitedly jumped up and down.

I opened it up.  It read:

“Hi neighbor, we’ve not met,

This I admit is my great regret.

I’m the guy that’s kinda shy

But thought I’d risk saying hi

To the girl next door I’d like to meet

I think you’re cute and awful sweet

Please respond back by writing on the note

If you’d be up for a day with this bloke

Replying back is not very hard

Just write yes or no on the card”

“Well?? What’s it say?”

“It says Happy Valentine’s Day,” I didn’t want my son to get all excited about a stranger and his creative little poem especially if he was some crazy psycho or child predator.  Hmmm… Crazy psycho stalker?  Weird dude?  Or just a harmless guy next door?  

Curiosity once again got the better of me and I watched my hands write on the card:

“Howdy neighbor who likes to rhyme, sorry but I don’t have a sitter or time, if you’ve watched me come and go then you already know I’m a busy mom with my hands full, sorry to sound boring and dull but I don’t know you, lol.”

I taped the card back outside the door and began fixing my kids their breakfasts which usually end up being an assortment of cold cereal, hot cereal, bananas and anything else they decide after-the-fact that they would rather have. The kids were busy eating at their kiddy table when there came another knock on the door.

I inhaled deeply.  Ok, maybe he’s actually at the door?

I walk over to the door and peek through the peephole.  Nope. Nada.  Coward.

I open the door and see a pink heart-shaped card taped to the door.  I look around, still no one in sight, and go back inside, closing the door behind me.

“Another card! You got another card!!!”  Johnny yelled with his mouth full of cereal.

“Yep.” I opened the card and this time it read:

“Roses are red and violets are blue

I’d really like a chance to meet you

Since good sitters are hard to be found

Why not meet me on the playground

You can take your kids and let them play

And then it could be kinda a fun way

For us to meet and me to say hi

And then if I’m not your kinda guy

You can just say bye bye.”

Ok hopefully he’s not some child predator out to have an excuse to watch my kids…but what if he’s just…gasp… normal and not psycho?

I decided that there wasn’t that great of a risk, the playground is right in the center of everything, lots of people always coming and going, very public, and might be okay.

I responded back on the card, “Ok you didn’t say when so I’ll meet you out there in ten.”  I taped the note back on the door, went back inside, closing the door behind me.

“Ok guys, let’s finish breakfast up and get ready, we’re going to go play on the playground.”

“YEAH!!!!!”  They immediately got up and put their bowls in the sink.  Guess they’re done eating, I laughed to myself.

Socks, shoes and hats lined the hallway as I got them ready in assembly-line fashion.  I march my troops out to the playground which is so far completely void of any other life form.  My kids immediately run and start climbing and sliding.  I help my youngest up a miniature rock climb wall when I see a dark figure coming towards me.  

I wait for him to turn towards a car but instead he continues towards the playground, towards me.  This is so awkward!!  Be nice, don’t be mean.   

 I lecture myself to remember my manners even if I don’t like him, if he’s a neighbor I need to be nice to my neighbors.  Plus, if he is psycho, he could not respond well to rejection. Be nice, be nice.

I couldn’t see his face very well but I could see a very sharp-looking white hat with some type of detailed stitching on it and equally sharp and unique-looking jeans and shirt, not quite Neiman Marcus but also not the local GAP, definitely not from around here.  Where did you come from?  Whoever he is, he dresses nice.  I had an unfortunate appreciation of men who don't just slap on a holy t-shirts and want an applause for changing their socks and underwear.  

Somewhat on the more youthful R & B side, somewhat younger-dressing, but not like what I’d imagine for the majority of the neighbors here, the darker-skinned man got closer and I could see how much of a younger man he was, much younger.  Drat. What am I? I am NOT "Stacy's mom." Okay be nice, he’s really young, probably too young, but be nice, he’s a neighbor and you want your neighbors to be nice back.

He was holding something in his hand.  Is it?  It is!  Oh!  Okay!  I think I have a new friend!  Not quite soul mate but definitely a friend!

 “Mommy catch me!”  I caught my daughter in mid-air as I see the shining white Starbucks cup being held out to me to my right.

“I thought you might need this,” a surprisingly nice voice said, the type of voice that one might imagine hearing on the radio everyday, not quite high-pitched but also not deep.

“Wow thank you!” I gladly took the Starbucks and didn’t even stop to consider possible dangers like a drugged drink before  I took a sip.  Not my favorite soy chai but vanilla lattes are still good too.  Probably a universal safe latte to get, and I really do need it!

I looked up and saw him smiling at me with these huge, gorgeous brown eyes that seemed to sparkle.   “My name is Paulo, nice to finally meet you.”

He reached out his hand which I noticed was a little darker than his face, not quite African American but darker than most Hispanics.  Blaxican?  Mulatto? Very lovely whatever nationality he is.  I shook his hand, “yeah nice to meet you, thanks for the latte.”

This writer has run out of time but essentially they chat and become good friends; he’s several years younger but she eventually gets over it, he’s recently moved from South America and is an amazing ballroom dancer, they become dancer partners and he gets her into competitive dancing.  The end, haha, I’m too busy.  Maybe I’ll finish this later… again… lol.   I think the overall point is that I daydream of coffee no matter what, even in my fantasies, lattes always find their way in. ;)  If food is the way to man's stomach, then lattes are the way to my heart haha.