Thanks a Lot, Margaret Mitchell, by Amanda Halkiotis

I have never been on a motorcycle but I think my hair would look damn fine flying straight out behind me while cruising down a highway.

Red wine makes my skin blotchy but I drink it anyway.

I will marry the man who teaches me how to drive a stick shift. Uphill.

I have fallen in love with more fictional characters than any number of real men.

In the winter I wear a men’s wool fedora and men’s brown leather driving gloves. It makes me feel a very vintage sort of sexy.

My hair on the whole gives me an unprofessional look but I refuse to straighten it or thin it out.

I have only seen suns rising, never setting, over an infinite ocean.

I love mixing indulgent fabrics for outfits. Like corduroy and velvet.

I don’t know what to say when someone compliments my hair.

On summer weekends I go to the park and pretend to read. I just go to sit and watch the shirtless Puerto Rican men play futball.

I try to make sure all my meals include warm bread in the beginning and cool fruit to finish.

A hearty soup somewhere in the middle can be ambitious at times, but totally worth it.

I love spending Saturday nights in the tub and then changing into my robe to watch TV on the futon. Sometimes I fall asleep like that.

On a first date I will order things just to sound classy but I actually can’t stand. Like vodka martinis and mulled wine.

I take myself out to dinner way too much but wait until the last possible moment to buy new shoes.

I love watching European football in bars; the time difference gives me an excuse to drink before noon.

I will marry the man who teaches me how to play golf. Without laughing.

I love eating things that require slow, precise attention, like pistachios and pomegranates.

Heroes include Audrey Hepburn and Frida Kahlo, who taught me that strong women with caterpillar eyebrows can still be sexy.

If I could quit my job and do anything in the world with a limitless budget, I’d probably still be just as boring.

I hate my hair.

I have no idea how to select a ripe mango.

Thanks to the kindness of my neighborhood grocer, however, I have gotten better with avocados.