Daydreaming, Episode 1

Wouldn’t it be cool if something of national political import were to happen right here? I live in the Midwest, hours away from any big cities, windy or otherwise. Barring some sort of high-level money laundering or Catholic priest related scandal, celebrities don’t typically frequent my area of the country. 

However, let’s say, hypothetically, that something happens. Something scandalous. Something that warrants the in-person attention of one Rachel Maddow. 

Pardon my fan girl sighs. 

I cannot help that in addition to my bisexuality I am undoubtedly a sappiosexual. As a woman who has of late embraced a more left leaning political ideology, there is nearly no one who can hold my attention like the acerbic MSNBC commentator. On week nights in which I have no plans and feel perhaps a bit lonely, I derive a great deal of enjoyment from watching the Rachel Maddow show. If I can’t have a stimulating conversation with an attractive woman in person, well, I may as well let the gorgeous Ms. Maddow make me smarter from the comfort of my love seat. 

From time to time, I indulge in a daydream about a hypothetical political scandal drawing eyes and news crews to my locality. I’m sure Rachel (in my imagination, I just call her Rachel and she’s ok with that) is down to earth enough that she eats at diners and does her own grocery shopping. I’m certain that, given the appropriate mix of diplomatic disaster and serendipity, there might be occasion for Rachel and I to be in the same place at the same time. 

Can’t you just picture it? Me, pushing a grocery cart through the produce department, her coming around a corner looking for edamame. Maybe she’ll talk to herself about the Midwest and our lack of organic soybean pods. I’ll of course be too distracted by what I’m looking for (salad mix in a bag; let’s be honest) to necessarily take note of her right away. Ergo, I won’t do something ridiculous like audibly gasp and run over to her talking about  my eternal love for her. Ideally, we just strike up a conversation about green vegetables. I’ll learn from her vast knowledge of controversial agricultural practices; I’ll try not to tell her that absorbing facts from her in person is a nirvana of which I’ve never dared to even dream. She’ll be impressed with my thought provoking questions and interesting contributions to our delightful back and forth. Perhaps we move our conversation to the in-store restaurant. (If there’s one thing we do well in the Midwest, it’s restaurants in grocery stores.) 

And then she can’t help what she feels for me! These things just happen! The heart wants what it wants!

But alas… we both know she can never act on it. A public figure such as herself could never be found to be caught up in an extramarital affair with a woman from middle America. 

With a sigh, we’ll agree that we’ll always have the produce department. 
To be continued…

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