Gerard Pitts has never been in love. He's sure he's been around people in love because, in his opinion, the air changes and everything just seems lighter.
He's not jealous, just patient and sometimes wonders what it's like. He tries to picture himself married. He's decided that he wants to marry an artist because that'll keep their balance in check. For some reason he likes the idea of girls that are unusually small with dark eyes and dark hair because even though he wants to be an engineer, he still wants to believe there's some magic in the world.
One day, when's older, married and has kids that are grown up, he wants to get into children books and he wants it to be a collaboration between him and his wife.
She has to be smart-preferably can understand the theory of Relativity and can also realize that just like there is a science to art, that there's an art to science.
He wouldn't mind if she smoked occasionally. There was just something sexy about waking up and picturing a girl with her long hair in a loose bun, sitting by the window, swathed in early morning light, clad in one of his shirts and a cigarette smoke hanging about her like a halo. Then he'd sneak up behind her and whisk her into the air before carrying her back to bed and holding her close.
She would have to love music, maybe even be a singer-type herself and the kind of girl that pushed Pitts to try different things and gave him strange nicknames that made him grin. He wants time with her to always be a surprise-and of course she'd be messy and unorganized which would be endearing and irritating to him.
They'd live in the city, somewhere he could walk to work and she'd stay home with her painting and pottery. Every time he'd come home to see her covered in paint with unruly hair or skin covered in drying clay with a bright look in her eyes-of course with only a button down shirt on, nothing else because to her it was freeing, he'd chase her around the house and tackle her to the ground and passion would ensue on the hard-wood floor.
She'd like to drink red wine and dine by the light of candles that were melting on bottles. Intimate meals every night with food that's recipes came from places Pitts had never been.
Maybe they'd go to Greece for their honey-moon and knowing Pitts, he'd get sick and she'd have to take care of him and then he'd wind up feeling bad and taking her away on a second honey-moon almost right away to somewhere else that she'd choose.
Sometimes they'd try to teach each other the tricks of their trade, he'd show her how to change the oil in a car and she'd try to get him to make a pot that would end up being off-centre and whacking him in the face.
She'd have to have a glorious laugh and laugh easily.
There would never be any pressure for children-Pitts has always found the idea of twins appealing. And older child, twins and a younger child but if four isn't possible, then three will do nicely. He'd let her name them because he was sure he'd do a terrible job and she'll end up naming them like Byron, Francis, Mileta and Dauphine, something off-colour and uncommon but plays with the tongue and it'll make him smile.
Pitts is adamant to retire and live by a large body of water that, even in her old age, will splash him every time they go for a walk and they'll have a golden retriever with a Greek name. He'll have been an anniversary present some years earlier.
That is what Pitts is looking forward too and maybe, one day, he'll have it.