I'm pitiful

I am so pitiful. I'm so so so pitiful. I'm a total romantic. But really, who can't dream, right? Here's what I dream for -

Sitting at a little cafe in Spain or Belgium, sipping my latte, I stare into space. My little green dress flaps in the warm breeze and I look down the street, when all of a sudden a dashingly handsome man asks if he can sit next to me. His dark black hair swishes in the air and his strong brown muscles bulge under his blue button-down shirt. His gorgeous green eyes watch my loose hair play across my face. I smile softly as I tell him I would love for him to sit next to me. Next thing I know he's bought us a steamy fresh roll of bread. I reach to tear it and give him some when he asks my name. "Sara. Sara Michelle," I whisper. "And you, what is your name?" He bends close to my ear and ever so softy says, "We shall see, won't we?" I look up into his deep, deep eyes and and neither of us can look away. We don't blink. We don't breath. It's just us. Only us. And then he blinks, and I breath. He sweeps me up in both arms and carries me out, laughing, to his little red motorcycle. We both don little red bubble helmets and we ride off into the Spanish/Belgium landscape.

OR

In the deep hill county of Texas I walk in between the tall trees of my ranch, my boots crunch on the rocky path. My truck is parked alongside the biggest of the trees and I'm about to climb in when I see a slight dust cloud growing on the horizon. Finally, after a long about of time waiting, it looks like a car. A truck. A Chevy truck. A tan Chevy truck. I can't make out the figure, but it seems to only be one person. The truck finally pulls up alongside mine. The man slowly rolls down the window and asks "Is this the Far Away Ranch?" "Yes it is," I reply. "Why do you ask?" His green eyes twinkle with delight as he says, "Well, I have an appointment with a Miss Farrell. Do you know if she's in?" "As a matter of fact you're talking to her right now. How can I help you?" Before answering the question he reaches down to the door handle of his car and jerks it open with one hard push. Out he steps with his black cowboy boots and slightly faded Levi jeans. With his head slightly bent he is the perfect portrait of a true cowboy. As his dark tanned face looks slightly down on me he gives a little smile. "Well," He says. "I have a deal for you." He then reaches to rest his arm on the bed of his truck and his large biceps peek out from the sky blue T-shirt wrapped around him. He clears his throat and looks right into my eyes, "I have a wonderful deal." I suddenly snap back, "Well, ok, you have this amazing deal, what the heck is it?" He laughs, (he likes snappy women) and says softly, "I heard you were looking into getting some Longhorns." "Yes I am, and.." "Well I was thinking," "Did it hurt?" "Yes very much so, but anyways, I was thinking you might want to go with me to have a look at some real longhorns." "What do you mean?" "Well if you want you could come with me to see my herd." "I would love that. When?" "Now." I pull the keys out of my red truck, grab my camera, and jump in his truck. He turns the key in the ignition and a roar growls in the mouth of the beast. He starts to pull out and I reach down to turn the radio on. I push the power button and it's on my favorite song. After about 30 miles we're at his ranch. A huge herd of longhorns are grazing in one of the large fields. The truck jolts to a stop. He looks at me and flashes another white smile. "What'da think?" "I think you have an amazing heard." "Well, I'll tell you the other half of my deal now. I'll give you six of my cattle if you show me how to blow glass." "Deal!" We walk out to the field and I pick out five dark spotted cows and one black bull. Then we head back to my ranch to start the 2 month glass blowing class.

Or maybe it'll be more like this -

I stand alone in a long flowing purple dress. My hair pulled elegantly back and a tiara on the top. A young man accost the floor is looking towards me. He slowly walks over, never taking his eyes off mine. "May I have this next dance?" He asks. "Of course," I reply. It is a waltz. We gracefully float over the dance floor. His deep green eyes rarely meet my gray ones, we're too concentrated on the dance. The minutes fly, and before we know it the dance is over. "Thank you for the dance," he whispers in my ear. "You're ever so welcome," I whisper back. The ball goes on, other partners ask and dance with me, but none are like the mysterious dark boy. Then the dance is over and he leaves. I don't see him for over two years. Then,we meet again in the summer and dance until we fall over. We have to pack in two whole years of fun into a few moments. Then he leaves again, and returns in another year. Year after year we leave and then reunite and dance out harts out