I picked up my new car on Friday night. Thank god it put me in such a great mood that I didn’t even care when deadbeat number 4 canceled on me because he wasn’t “feeling well.”

I am completely, unabashedly, ridiculously in love with this car.

A few years ago, when I was working out heavily at the gym with a personal trainer, I used to ogle a certain young man named… well, let’s call him Bicep Boy (his were spectacular, and I would know). At the time, he seemed like a scrappy young thing who maybe had more street smarts than I, but had some catching up to do with regard to Life, even though he thought I was a nut job.

Time moved on… he sold his bagel shop and became a car salesman… later, he became the general manager… yesterday, he sold me my very first car without someone else’s name on the loan.

I went to see him and told him what I needed and what I wanted. I trusted him in some unreasonable way that made no sense at all to me. He asked all the right questions. He really listened to my answers. Then, he asked a salesman to bring a car around for me.

I wasn’t particularly impressed at first. But the price was too amazing not to try to like it. I opted to trust him completely and sank into the relief that comes with making a decision to let someone else make the decision.

I had forgotten what it was like to simply trust a man to have my best interest at heart, to believe that he could not only meet my expectations but exceed them, and that he would do all of this without comparing and competing with me. It felt like a gift. An intimate moment with this man – a stranger, really, and a car salesman to boot. Why in the world would I trust him, of all people?

Bicep Boy came through for me in a huge way – not just to help with the new car, but to help with a new attitude about men in general.

He grew up. The gym-rat street kid who critiqued women’s asses and had a cold Brooklyn outlook on life had become a gentleman. He traded a muscle shirt for an oxford button-down, and his biceps may have shrunk slightly, but his heart and his soul were opening up and he was larger than Life to me. He was softer, gentler… sweet, really.

Every mile I’ve put on that car has brought a grateful smile to my face. It feels like it was custom-designed just for me. My hands wrap around the steering wheel without stress or clenching. The Bose stereo could not have a better sound. The leather seat was made for my ass alone, and the sexy Saab SUV handles like a luxury car instead of a truck.

A perfect fit.

I feel a little bit like Cinderella.

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