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  Love Is Magic

I want to be in love one day,
A perfect love such that my prince would whisk me off for one enchanted night to Paris!
One reckless night, that we might steal a blissful kiss upon some bridge at dawn,
A kiss we will remember all our lives.
And when we’re back home and all alone, I’d buy him socks; ‘cause he’s my man,
Mine and mine alone! 
                                      ---A. Phillip-Hautecoeur


What’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever done?

Take a moment, close both eyes, summon your most exaggerated fantasy, and multiply by 1000.
Feel the extraordinary moment for a minute…then multiply it all by 1000 again.
That’s this story. It’s your story too.
If you were ever a little girl, or even a little boy with a romantic soul, you would have known very early on that someday love would require you to do wonderfully ridiculous things.
And so, I’m going to explain to you why the most intriguing thing you will ever want to do is get on a plane and fly to an exotic dinner at an elegant trois-étoiles across the ocean in Paris.

But in the meantime, I must relate a fascinating story about an enchanting French woman named Eff.

Don’t be anxious; she’s not enchanting in any Hollywood sort of way; she’s just extraordinarily normal, bordering on blasé. Like you, Eff hasn’t uncovered a remedy for some troublesome affliction; neither, for that matter, invoked an imperative on Pandora to rid the world of all its difficulties. However, just as the moth flutters its wings in Blankpen Forest provoking a tempest ten thousand miles away in Indo-Chine, Eff might double over in a gut-aching laugh, causing a torrential shower to end a drought in far away Eretria. Quite often we’re afflicted by events we’re not at all aware of.  

I’m convinced that every endeavor has an ultimate. Love has its own ultimate bucket list, with just one item on it.

We all daydream, imagining our extreme, voluptuous fantasy. We all wish to one day say, “I had the most amazing day of my entire life,” about a totally consuming, outrageously enchanting, completely romantic day where we’re transported on a cloud tomorrow going home. We all secretly dream of one exquisite night in Paris.

Imagine the Cinderella story—prince, carriage, and horses with white mice for footmen—finessed into its more modern version, the Pretty Woman movie, especially the part where he takes her out for the night all dressed up to dinner in the shiny jet. You quietly hope that at some point it will be your turn, sailing through a deep dark night, a thousand glittering stars above, smoldering city lights below, an overwhelming promise of romance and enchantment crowned with an elegant dinner, champagne, and a princely dream. And perhaps, innocently unaware, you find yourself humming the opening bars to, “Someday My Prince Will Come,” knowing that the enchanting promise of romance will happen for you—someday.  

The most amazing day of your entire life—part fantasy, part luxury, all enchanting, all true. I’ve always wanted to nonchalantly say, “Forget the moon; let’s go to Paris for dinner,” as if it were something that anyone would do on a whim. Afterward we’d stroll to the open plaza to watch the twinkling of the Eiffel Tower with a chilled bottle of champagne wrapped in a stolen hotel towel with two borrowed glasses—a passionate and sleepless night at the Ritz, dark coffee, some warm flakey croissants, and then back on a flight towards home.

Every princess deserves a perfectly romantic prince. They deserve to live the promise of one truly amazing day and night together—an incredible fantasy, a doable fairytale where, for a moment, passions cause kisses to conjure frogs into royals.

Because life is love and fairies wings, and somehow a bit short, we all should, at least once:

Share an outrageously perfect dinner just for two at a lavish 3-Star table in Paris.

Sip a sublimely effervescent bottle of French champagne (or three).

Be enchanted by the Tower’s sparkle at midnight as reflected light from diamonds twinkle through our lover’s eyes.

Spend one perfect night secreted in a little room for two at the Plaza, Crillon, or Ritz.
Have one flawlessly orchestrated day and night in a place where luxury, history, glittering lights, and fantasy describe the perfect fairytale.

Have room service lay a simple breakfast just for two.
Just once, if only once.… 

 More than just love, I adore my wife. Seriously. I say that with resolute certainty and fascination, not like one degenerate drunk to another, avoiding getting off a precariously tilting barstool to delay going home. Falling in love is a matter of immaculate magical hope. And we all hope, deep in our hearts, that we’ll be in love one day and that it will last and last forever.
The trick with magic is that even though it’s improbable, it sometimes happens anyway, usually when you don’t expect it. I certainly never do. Still, to awkwardly stumble upon the woman of your dreams who’s come to New York on vacation from five thousand miles away in Paris…well, that’s a fairly decent trick.

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