You don't like players. That's what you say. But you really wouldn't mind a millionaire.

When I was a little girl, maybe four years old, one of my favorite movies to watch was The Great Mouse Detective. And when I watched movies, I always picked out a character that I wanted to be. Well, in that particular movie, female characters were few and far between. There was Olivia, the cute little forlorn mouse who is missing her father, there was the Queen, who was plump and old, there may or may not have been a housekeeper, and then there was her. In one scene, Basil of Baker street and his sidekick Dawson found themselves in a pub dressed as sailors. On stage, not a whole lot of entertainment is going on… until she walks out. This little mouse dressed quite modestly stands in the limelight and begins singing to the “gentlemen” of the pub. Then she rips her modest suit off, revealing a rather burlesque costume embellished with a lot of feathers. My four year old mind did not understand that she was a burlesque dancer, but I did understand that that is what I wanted to be when I grew up: an entertainer. Even after all these years, my dream in life is to be an entertainer for “gentlemen.”
There for a while, my dream was to be a cancan dancer at the real Moulin Rouge. Over the years, my dream evolved slightly. I’m not a dancer. I am an actress. But anything burlesque still intrigues me, and I must incorporate it into my life. I am still heavily involved in theatre, and over the years, the characters I have portrayed have become more risqué. So that dream is definitely being lived. If I had to describe my life in one word, risqué would be it, so the fact that the characters are more and more to my liking brings a smile to my face.
To get back to my point, although I will never be a cancan dancer at the Moulin Rouge, I still long to visit the place and see a show. And while I could do it on my own, I want to share it with someone who means the world to me. Perhaps he is that man I described before. Maybe I have found him.
I am in love with a man. He is kind and brave. He is so selfless, so caring. I have not yet interacted with him in the ways that I would like to, but that time will come. I am sure that everything will be as fiery and passionate as I would like it to be. This is a new love, so I have not yet seen how he reacts to my emotional shows, my multiple characters. But he is doing a magnificent job thus far.
I told him about my plans to go to Paris in a year. I thought he would tell me that it sounded like a nice idea and that I could do it if I wanted to. I figured it would eventually be something that perhaps I would have to choose between pursuing a dream and staying with him, as we have already spent enough time apart. But no. His response was so astonishing. He said, “Do you think you could make room for me there?” He wants to be there when I make this dream a reality. He wants to be there to experience me connecting to a special part of myself that could only show up halfway around the world. He doesn’t want to miss a minute of time with me, and what better place to connect than the most romantic place in the world?
That is what I love about him. He knows my dreams and he wants to see them come true as much as I do. So far, he is wonderful at adapting to my ever-changing character. I’m not sure how much he will thrive on my sexuality yet, but there is time. He needs to come home first before I can learn that for sure. From what I can gather at the moment, I’m not too worried. I bought him a coupon book full of risqué promises. I told him that he could not redeem any of them unless he brought them home with him. He replied with a chuckle, “They are right here in my hip pocket. I am making sure not to lose them.” I also sent him pictures, and he carries them with him, close to his heart.
He does not know yet the full story of my dirty past, but he has a general idea. He knows basic events, but he does not know intensities or numbers. And for now, that is okay. As far as what he does know, he is so wonderful about it. He knows I have made mistakes, but he sees that I have learned from those mistakes, whether I regretted them or not. He tries to live his life to the fullest so that when he is an old man, sitting on his front porch, he will be chockfull of stories. Perhaps everything I have done in my life up until now will just be a marvelous story to tell the grandkids when the time comes. And I would not trade those stories for the world.
He wants to be there to make more stories with me. Maybe the best is yet to come. That’s a splendid thought…