The Perfect Man

He’d take me to the beach.
A deserted beach. But still a warm one.
And we’d go crazy in the ocean together.
And then, after a few minutes, he’d know.

He’d know that after I had too much salt in my eyes and too much water up my nose and had been dumped by too many waves, it was time to build our castle.
And it would be no children’s castle.
This would be my fairytale castle.

He would also know that as not only someone completely terrorised by OCD, but also as an engineer’s daughter, my castle would have to be perfect.
It would be taller than any other sandcastle, and it would have a moat surrounding it.
And when the tide was right, each wave would fill the moat, and then draw away leaving it hinting at water.
There would be a bridge over the moat, which would lead to my complete city of bridges and tunnels that I have wanted to build forever!
(One day, I was really close, and then some teenage brat came and jumped on it, I cried for hours)

And he would put up with my making every single part of castle perfect, because I’ve never built the perfect sandcastle, and it’s about time I did.
He would find me a stick, and a leaf, and make me a flag.
Then he would put it on my perfectly rounded castle with walls exactly perpendicular to the ground and not sloping, and it would be complete.

Then we’d take a photo of the castle, and watch the tide sweep it away.


Oh my gosh. I am totally dillusional. :L
Anyways, this is all inspored by AMY, (Again) for writing about HER perfect man :L:L