So I've started what I hope to be my first novel. Ambitious. I know. But if not for ambitions people would not create and invent and fix wonderful things. Will it ever be a published novel? i don't know. But it will be my novel. And that's all that matters to me. Therefore, below you will find the beginnings of my ambitions.

THE ONE

Introduction

For all one knows it was the way the lights gently glistened through their snow covered bodies or how her hand felt nestled in his tweed coat pocket. Whatever it was though, Lily had come to wonder if she would ever find "The One." You know, the heart stopping, butterfly giving, man; with shiny blue eyes, rich brown hair, and a ravishing face. And I suppose defined jaw line and all, because if we're going for the gold, he better have it all. But maybe that was Lily's problem. She had fabricated this image, this story, when she was just a little girl, that at 28 it was so deeply ingrained she couldn't seem to shake it.

Benjamin was none of those. Not that he wasn't handsome. Lily likes to say he has "character." And it isn't that she isn't attracted to him (according to her, the sex was too good for that). Besides, he made a decent amount of money. Not in the way of extravagence, but enough to live above the simple comforts. Ben was sweet too. Honestly. He was everything you could ask for: a family man, ready to settle down, annoyingly attentive, had impeccible taste....you get where I'm going with this. Nevertheless - Lily was convinced he was not "The One."

Chapter 1

Ever since I was young I told myself I wouldn't settle. Not in my education, not in love, and definently not in life. It wasn't that I thought I was singularly special or that I deserved more than anyone else. I was just particular. Particular about the life I wanted, what I wanted to do with it and where I wanted to be at certain moments within it. Not to mention I befittinely blame the long list of fairytale movies and novels that increasingly stacked up the walls in my room since the age of three for my pathetic notion of love. In those books every "I" was dotted with a heart and every "T" crossed with an arrow. Those authors were asking for trouble - and a generation of women waiting for their Knight in Shining Armor, restlessly.

He was to be handsome, charming, and attentive. His eyes would sparkle when he gazed at you. He would crave you every moment of the day, leaving it virtually unbearable to be away. And most importantly, he would be able to give you everything you wanted - ever. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Well after years of dating multiple men, with many different approaches to a relationship, not one has fit the bill. He was either strikingly beautiful, but missing a personality. Like talking to your dog (although I must admit I do that and sometimes Dmitri was a better conversationalist). Or he wasn't all a girl could ask for in the way of looks, but he made me laugh and I was hardly ever bored. The worst though were the ones that had it all. I mean the ones whose skin glowed in the night light, his bodyirresitable, charm to knock you off yoru chair, a heart and personality so full you'd think he'd explode, and an undying need to please you whenever, with whatever. What he didn't know, was that although he thought he was doing all the pleasing, in bed he was the farthest from it. The sex was unbearable. It was awkard and lust-lacking (I fake it pretty well). Not to mention you'd think a guy of his size could toss ya around a little bit; but no, never even tried. And for awhile I let it slide, because come on, he had it ALL. I thought I could teach him. Direct him. I was wrong. And so, I continued on my journey to find my fariy tale.

Chapter 2

It was early evening on a biting November day. I had just finished my proposal and sat, people watching, at my favorite coffee shop in town. SaDi's was my place. Every since I moved to Boston it's been my go to: rich mahogany built in book shelves, low mellow lighting and an aroma that could calm a hurricane to a still ocean. It acts as the place where I feel at home, while remembering that nothing is home like the Midwest. Anyway, as I sat there watching men and women saunter in and out of my space, imagining what their lives were like, a young man traipsed through the door. His cheeks were red - bitten by the cold we were experiencing - and his hair wind blown into a surprisingly attractive arrangement. He scanned the room as if looking for someone before finding his way to the counter where he stared unknowingly at the drink menu. Lost in thought or lost in general, he was still a pleasure to look at.