11:44 PM

As we saunter towards the travelers from Kansas, the frigid ambiance common in the Emerald City kicks in--an awkward silence. Eventually Ginger cuts through the tension by blurting out a question that seems to be itching at his brain. "Is Cyndi Effing Rella really your legal name?"

Damn it! I forgot he saw my driver's license. This question ALWAYS comes up whenever my name is revealed.

"Unfortunately." My cheeks turn Embarrassed Royally, a new color in Covergirl's blush cosmetics line. "Not only were my parents fairy tale loving hippies—they were stoned fairy tale loving hippies."

Ginger directs his gaze towards the ground--a playful chuckle escaping his lips. "This may sound crazy, but I dubbed you with the moniker Cinderella before I knew your actual name."

"Seriously? Why Cinderella?"

Ginger hesitates to answer, glancing at his comfort zone located somewhere near his toes. Apparently his feet are like a security blanket that softens uneasiness.

"The truth," I demand, giving him my best stern look that always works with the children in my kindergarten classroom.

"You have to promise you won't get mad," he cautions.

My eyes widen as my gut is hit with a wave of insecurity. "It's bad?"

"No," Ginger reassures me. "It's just probably going to sound bad at first." 

"Tell me!" 

"Promise you won't get mad." 

"Fiiiiiiiine! I promose." 

Ginger takes a deep breath and glances at me sideways. "I thought you sort of looked like Cinderella—before the Fairy Godmother intervened."

My mouth drops open, surprised by his brash honesty. His observation is accurate, I just wasn't expecting anyone to actually notice my appearance this evening—let alone comment on it. "You mean like a filthy maid?"

A sea of red washes over Ginger's face. Shoving his trembling hands back in his trench coat pockets, he nervously stumbles over his words. "I didn't. I wasn't. I swear, I didn't mean. It wasn't like that."

Seattle Freeze creeps in once again, slowly constructing a social wall of awkwardness around us. Normally I wouldn't care, but I really like this guy. He seems to emanate gentleness and kindness. Unfortunately, my inner Evil Queen wants me to ignore my intuitive impression of this stranger and run. She insists I'm being blinded by lust and will only get hurt by a man who admittedly labels people based on their worst qualities. At the same time, I can also hear my Perspective Genie whispering in the background, but he notices you. Unlike Banana Fondler, I don't feel invisible when in Ginger's presence--and despite my depressed appearance--he continues to look my way. 

So should I trust the advice of my Evil Queen or listen to the positive coaching of my Perspective Genie? It's a choice. Every moment of my life, this is a choice I must make. Tonight I decide to go all in and rub the magic lamp of possibilities. I flash Ginger a forgiving smile and force a flirtatious wink through a cage of insecurity.

Ginger exhales, tossing boyish grins in my direction. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, he runs his fingers through his hair as if to calm a nervous swirling of thoughts in his brain. "It was mostly the kitten. You had a princess gentleness when rescuing the kitten."

I look towards the ground and smile while scratching the purr machine's head. Despite my outer chaos, someone saw royalty in me. Sure, Ginger could be on drugs or brain damaged, maybe even desperate for sex—but in that moment, all caution is tossed aside. I saw a miracle in me and someone else was able to see it, too. A coincidence? Magic? It doesn't matter. The important thing is I'm taking control of my perspectives this evening. If I choose to see Ginger's impression of me as magical, then Genie makes it magical. Simple as that.

"I sort of had a nickname for you too," I admit.

Grabbing a fist full of belly flesh Ginger asks, "Was it the Pillsbury Dough Boy?"

Like a preteen, I giggle. "That's actually really close!"

"Wait." Ginger digs into his trench coat pocket for his wallet. "Fair is fair."

He holds out his driver's license for me to inspect. It's an amazing opportunity actually. Immediately I get to know this stranger's real age, real address, real name—

"Bradley Cooper?" I gasp.

"Technically, it's Cooper Bradley. The last name comes before the first on a driver's license." Again, Cooper motions towards his mid section. "I'm obviously more DadBod than BradBod."

Holding out my arm for a handshake I say, "Nice to officially meet you, Cooper Bradley."

"Ditto, Cyndi Effing Rella."

When we get closer to project Tenderness Offered Towards Others (TOTO), Cooper nods in the direction of Ruffle-Shuffle. "I should go check on my daughter and neighbor. But when you're finished brightening someone's evening, your things will be waiting for you at the Laundromat."

"Thank you." I peer up at the sweet cookie man through my eyelashes, a smile beaming with appreciation.

"Oh! Wait!" Cooper digs his hand in his trench coat pocket and pulls out three New Year's Eve noisemakers. "My munchkin is already asleep, so we won't be using these. Do you think the munchkins from Kansas would enjoy them?"

"I'm sure they would." I bite my lip, holding back a tear. "In fact, I KNOW those kiddos would love to have them."

Cooper grins and drops the noisemakers into the paper sack. "And their mom is going to be beside herself when she sees the gift card you hid at the bottom of the bag."

My eyes twinkle and my heart skips a beat. "Sometimes you just need to be someone else's magic moment."

"True." The jest is wiped off Cooper's face as he gazes at me with an odd look. "On so many levels."

"By the way," Cooper adds as he slowly backs away towards the Laundromat. "What was your nickname for me anyway?"

"It was a sweet name. I promise."  

*********NACHO BREAK*********   

DadBod vs Six-Pack-Abs. Which do you prefer? At first I find myself gravitating towards the six packs, but then I read somewhere that DadBods (according to some set of statistics that sounded really convincing) are actually far better in bed. Decisions, decisions, decisions...

Spread the magic. Share this story on social media (Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Tumbler, Google+, etc.) so friends and family can find their own Inner Genie.

MarilynHepburn.com