He is wonderful. People call him Mr. Wonderful. And he is all mine. Aren't I lucky?
He's got a big house, I live in it, he's got a very good job, I don't have to work. He is handsome and rich. He can cook, sing, write poetry and lots of other things that I don't know about yet. He is also good in bed and he adores me. This last point must be true because he tells me this several times a day.
He gives me what I want, but I get what I need from the bridge. I don't know his name, I meet him under a bridge on the road going south out of town. I call him the bridge, because that is where we meet. He gives me what I need.
Everything is wonderful when you are with Mr. Wonderful. Really! Everything wonderful! I told him how wonderful it would be to have children. I suppose I wanted to get married. He found the idea of having children wonderful. He talked for hours about the responsibility of having children. However he did not say that he wanted children, although he made a good start that night. He gives me what I want.
I drove to the bridge. I got in his car – he was waiting. I told him about marrying Mr. Wonderful and having kids. He said, “Oh, if it makes you happy.”
Last week was my birthday – Mr. Wonderful gave me 25 red roses and sung me a song and played the mandolin and read out a poem he had written for me.
I drove to the bridge. I got in his car – he was waiting. He said, “Stuff your birthday! You're special on every day of the year!” Funny, but the bridge can say more in two short sentences.
It happened this morning – a wonder. Mr. Wonderful went down on his knees and kissed my feet. I thought this is it. I was going to propose to him, but I was sure that he would want to propose to me. He made a long speech, partly in rhyme, about two hours long, perhaps it was only ten minutes. I cannot remember a word he said. A wonder had happened.
I drove to the bridge. I got in his car – he was waiting. He put his hand on my knee. This was his way of saying yes. We drove off into our life together.