Breezing through the door a few minutes before 6:00, he sets down his gear and traces a lopsided arc across the floor to where I’m sitting. We kiss and check in on our days, responding mostly with trivialities. Anything of relative significance is reserved at least until after he’s exchanged work shoes for slippers and hung up his coat, but sometimes we wait until dinner.
More evenings than not, in between the idle chatter and news of import, he looks at me with an earnest smile and asks, “Has anyone besides me today told you that you’re beautiful?”
“Just you,” I respond, grinning.
But it’s not always the truth. Some days, there are others.
I need to tell him. But not now. He’s eating a hard pretzel, and it’s been a minute since I practiced the Heimlich.
I’ll come clean at dinner.
Can't thank your mom and dad enough for making someone as beautiful as you, You look so beautiful.
Meet Paul Funk. His name may be off-putting, but I assure you he is of a solicitous nature. Straight off, he acknowledges the loss of my parents, and look how he uses the word beautiful twice in rapid succession. I love how he transitions seamlessly into hierarchies of heavenly bodies. And how could a girl not be taken by his consent-forward approach?
Paul is a smooth operator, but another would-be suitor, Mr. Observation, gets me feeling some type of way with his liberal use of emojis and lack of punctuation. Clearly, he’s a guy who wants keeps things moving. When you know you know, right? Compared to some men, he’s realistic about what he expects me to provide at this stage of my life. I think I can sufficiently appreciate his special time.
The next few fellas lack the wordsmithery of the first two, but I admire how they don’t let that stand in the way of their fantasies. They seem like guys who would follow me anywhere.
There’s Maxule, just out there loving life some much; single Robert, trying to make the most of life moments; and Lucas, the doctor, who wine loves and is living the best of his live. Lucas looks like George Wendt. I bet he won’t mind if I call him Norm.



The Jameses are really into me. My husband is a James. I need to tell him about the others.
There’s Chicago James with his classic car, wads of cash, and ~swoon!~ is that a dip of tobacco in his lower lip? There’s James Fraser with his bulging bicep and one finger pointing playfully toward a teton; and there’s James Wilson Bob. Dang, I could greet him coming and going! He posts pictures of children, so he must be a good man. They’re hard to find, you know.
I wonder if any of these guys go by Jim. That could get complicated.



David is an outdoorsy dude who digs floatation therapy. Raymond has a proclivity for love and a special thing for dogs. Richard is intriguing, secretive with tons of followers. Michael might be a therapist. I could use one of those.




Forgive me if I just invaded your privacy. But I hope you understand, l'm just trying to be a friend.
Finally, there’s William. William Burke Garrett.1
A member of the armed forces, he looks wholesome, doesn’t he, in his dress whites? His approach stands out from the others. It’s subtle, submissive even. He’s not trying to win me over with flattery. He’s just trying to be a friend. For friendship. Thanks. So sweet.
His syntax is a little unusual. He’s probably been living overseas. I wonder which arm of the military he’s in. I can’t quite place his uniform. Let’s see if I can find out anything else about him online.
Oh.
Oh!
William!!
You scoundrel!!!
Jim and I get the candles going and dim the lights a touch. He pulls out my chair, waiting for me to sit before taking his own. The cloth napkins have seen better days, but they get the job done night after night. We put them in our laps, clink our water-filled glasses and kiss, again, before picking up our forks. As he reaches for the salt and thanks me for the meal, he tells me it’s delicious. He hasn’t even tried it yet.
I’m beautiful at the end of a long day or the beginning of the next. Often both. Sometimes I’m stunning. I’m not always convinced, but he is. He’s been my friend for more than 34 years, and I’m still discovering new bits to love. I’m not sure how I got to be so lucky.
I think I’ll tell him that now.
~Elizabeth
I’ve been thinking about what it means to be lighthearted. Despite everything I fret about, I want to stay attached to playfulness. It’s not a bad feeling. What about you? How are you tapping into the lighter side right now? I’ll tell you a secret: You’re beautiful. You and your willingness to read, think, laugh, and explore are part of what’s missing from someone’s day. So, go on. Get out there and live your best live!
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William Burke Garrett III is a real retired lieutenant general in the United States Army who served as the deputy commander of the United States European Command and as the deputy commanding general of United States Army Forces Command. His identity has been used by scammers to create countless social media profiles. Those behind the scam prey on unsuspecting individuals by befriending them, gaining trust, then asking for money. If you have been contacted with messages similar to his or others above, you have not been contacted by a real person but by scammers. Be wary. Don’t send money to a social media “friend” you don’t know. It will always be a scam.
All those things Jim said to you, I agree... By the way.... I am real..... And so are you... Merry Christmas to you and your casanova..who is also cool...❤
That was a fun read. I laughed out loud a couple times. Thank you for the lighthearted escape on this rainy December afternoon.
I love your sweet exchanges with the real Jim. And yes, you are beautiful, both inside and out. ❤️