Look at him. The Hardy Provider. The Able Woodsman. He emerges from the forest with a bunch of animals who are singing Abba songs while he hauls around logs as if they were feathers. You happen upon him because the GPS in your Subaru lost signal the further up the mountain you drove on your weekend getaway with the ladies. Really, its just an excuse to sit around for a few days, not shower, get drunk and eat junkfood. But you’ll tell everyone at the office you were camping. You’ll add: “I tried to fish! But I had no luck.”
You pull over, worried about the gas gauge and if your tires are even intended for this terrain. His hair shimmers in the sun, like glorious wheat! You gasp then remember your predicament. Before you can ask for directions he speaks: “Hi! I think your tire is a bit low. Don’t worry. I can take care of that. Come on in.”
He waves you into his cabin. The creatures have now started singing Take a Chance on Me. “Oh, I’m Henrik! I live here. Have a seat.” He gestures to a large table, made from a tree stump that has been polished to a mirrored shine. “I have some ice green tea and a flourless chocolate cake I just pulled out of the oven. Would you like refreshments while I check your tire pressure and clean your windshield?”
He doesn’t wait for your answer and busies himself in the kitchen. “Help yourself to the fruit too! I went into town yesterday picked up some things at the farmer’s market. I even found this amazing all natural soap made with hemp!” He holds out his wrist for you to smell. You pause for a moment and think of all the skeazy boys you went to high school with and how their scent of pachouli still lingers; a haunting memory of teenagers unwilling to shower and busted Luminas blaring Phish bootlegs.
You inhale the sweet scent, a tinge of spice and a perfect balance of lemon. “I really like that.”
“The woman gave me a free bottle. You can take it!” Henrik beams. His teeth, you can count them all. His smile should be obnoxious like a Ken Doll. It’s not when it is framed with that wonderful scruff. Such a delightful texture and your fingers grip the edge of the table so you don’t act out innappropriately.
Instead, “This is a wonderful table,” you say and admire the dark grain.
“Oh really?” Henrik says almost bashfully. “I made it. And the chairs too. The couch…” he points across to the living room, “it’s in progress. I’m learning how to upholster. I found this amazing sofa someone was throwing in the trash, so I tossed it in the back of my truck and decided to use the fabric. Upcycle, you know? Help the environment.”
You finally take a swig of tea because you cannot think of something to say. You half hope the tea is poisoned so you can die in the presence of the perfect man. But the tea doesn’t kill you. And, really? Are you kidding me? He makes the execution Lipton tea bags seem like an art form.
Looking around at the bright paintings on the wall, that you quickly figure out he made. His sturdy boots have splotches of color on them that match the canvases.
“I’m going to murder my best friends in the lake. And stay here forever,” you murmur as you admire the incredible open floor plan of the cabin.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” Henrik says as he sits across the table from you and helps himself to a peach.
“Oh! Nothing, nothing. Thinking out loud.”
Henrik’s eyebrows knit in concern. “How long have you been driving? Based on where I am in relation to civilization, I would guess five hours or so. I was going to make some flatbread pizzas for dinner with carmelized onions and goat cheese. I have plenty to share. Why don’t you rest up, have some food and then I can send you on your way?” he suggests.
There is no slam of your jaw hitting the table to punctuate the silence. A squeak leaves your mouth instead. “Uhhh…well.”
“Don’t worry. I do have HBO out here. We can watch True Blood,” Henrik grins.
“I want to common law marry you since I disagree with the government’s current discrimination of gay unions. I will not marry in protest of the unfairness, but I would very much like to commit to you!” the words rush out. “I don’t need a ring since diamonds are usually mined by children in warzones. But, I am yours.”
“Well, in that case. I will fix up your Subaru tomorrow,” he smiles again. Honestly, at this point you should be blind from the wattage. “More cake?”I’m taking nominations for Princes! Yell at me in the comments or on twitter. I might even do the Villains too. Bwahahah.