Let's Talk About Men.

So last night I had a dream that Nick Jonas and I were in love.

Yeah.

OK, before everyone gets creeped out at me for being a cradle-robber, I should point out that Nick Jonas was somewhere in the neighborhood of 24 years old in my dream (he's apparently 18 in real life).  It was one of those dreams that is really, really realistic and elaborate, so that you're surprised to find out that it didn't really happen when you wake up.  A good example of this detail is that, in my dream, I wished my friend Amy happy birthday, and today is her birthday - little weird details like that crept in from my actual reality to make the dream seem ultra-realistic.

He's like, so dreamy, like.

To summarize the scene, I'm at the wedding of my friends Emily and Jin (another realistic detail, as they will be getting married this July, and I'm planning on attending).  Apparently, they have invited Nick Jonas, because he walks in as a (quite attractive) 24 year old (Nick Jonas ages well in my dream world).  Everyone gets all excited and starts taking pictures and stuff, but I don't because I recognize him as a real person and not just a celebrity (aww).  So anyway, he comes and sits by me for the wedding, and we basically fall instantly in love and generally spend the rest of the dream talking and holding hands and other cutesy little things.

And then my alarm starts going off, and I wake up all blissfully happy to have such a fantastic guy as Nick Jonas in my life, until slowly the realization sinks in that it was a dream and of course I'm not dating Nick Jonas, and instead I'm just as single as I was when I went to bed last night.  In my still-groggy state I find this to be very depressing, and hit snooze and sleep for another 2.5 hours or so to drown out my Jonas-less sorrows.

Unsurprisingly, by the time I actually got up around 11:30, I was over losing Nick Jonas, and instead thought that the dream was REALLY weird, if for no other reason than that I really have no interest in the Jonas brothers whatsoever and rarely give them any thought.  I actually didn't even know the name of the dreamland Jonas brother; I did know his face, though (remember, realistic dream here), and so I googled them and determined that it was Nick Jonas that won my heart.  The other weird thing I discovered was that Nick Jonas actually LOOKED older in my dream...because he was definitely older than that 18 year old kid looking at me out of the computer screen.  If 24 year old Nick Jonas showed up at my door declaring his undying love with me (or at my friends' wedding, for that matter), I'd give him a chance or two or ten thousand.  Eighteen-year-old Nick Jonas...not so much.  He's kind of 18-ish, and his rendition of "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" (one of my favorite pieces in all musical theater for its raw emotional quality) at the 25th Anniversary Les Miserables performance flopped in comparison to less glitzy YouTube performers; I invite curious readers to compare the two clips at the end of this post if they desire evidence of this fact.

I do think that I have identified the source of my dream, though.  Last night I spent a considerable amount of time watching some documentary about Prince William and Kate Middleton's wedding.  The documentary mentioned how a lot of famous people will be attending the wedding, and one of the interviewees said something about how they hoped that William and Kate actually KNEW the celebrities, because otherwise that would be pretty weird and potentially distracting.  I guess that concept really stuck in my mind...and was transformed into dreamland in the form of my meeting Nick Jonas at a wedding.  Weird, but explainable.

The Prince of Belgium, aka my best royal shot.

Concurrent with the watching of that documentary was a lengthy Skype conversation with my best friend Brandi centering around eligible princes of the world that we could snag for our own royal weddings.  Our primary source for our research was an online photo gallery aptly titled "World's Hunkiest Eligible Princes" (seen here), which I found through some simple Google searching.  In case anyone is wondering, I've decided that my best option is to marry Prince Amedeo of Belgium.  Why?  Because before he even showed up in the photo gallery, I declared to Brandi that I should marry the heir to the Belgian throne, as I LOOK Belgian myself.  I base this assertion on the fact that when I visited Belgium for 2 days in 2009 I was consistently asked for directions to various landmarks, presumably because I looked like a native Belgian; the inquirers always seemed a bit disappointed to find out that I'd  been in Belgium for less than 48 hours and could no more point them toward the Mannekin Pis than to Zimbabwe.  Anyway, when Prince Amedeo showed up all eligible-like on my computer screen, he seemed like the natural choice.  You're all invited to the wedding.

Here's a problem I've discovered though: the term "eligible" is horribly misused in this circumstance.  "Eligible", to me, not only implies desirable and sought-after (read "wealthy royal prince in line for the throne"), but also indicates said gentleman's availability and attainability.  Let's face it, I have no more of a chance of marrying Prince Amedo of Belgium than I do of marrying Nick Jonas (though interestingly, Prince Amedo actually IS 24, unlike real-life Nick Jonas).  Yet, all these princes are listed all over the web as "eligible."  I'm sure they are super eligible for royal women or the ladies of the nouveau riche, but that doesn't mean that I'm about to run into any of them at the neighborhood grocery store.  But then there's Kate Middleton, a commoner who somehow manages to prove us all wrong and snag a royal for herself and become a princess.  Darn you, Kate Middleton.

Musing on all of this today, I acknowledged that I probably need to set my sights a bit lower than an heir apparent or a pop icon.  As I'm thinking about these things, I hear a knock on the door, and open it to reveal a very, very attractive UPS delivery guy.  Ironically, he's delivering my pre-ordered copy of The King's Speech.  A sign, perhaps, that he's my metaphorical prince charming?  Probably not, considering he hastened off to his UPS duties after I signed for the package, disappearing from sight.  Nonetheless, this isn't the first time this particular delivery guy has shown up at my door.  My apartment must be in his specified delivery zone.  The logical thing to do, therefore, is simply to keep ordering things from Amazon every day.  My friend Rachel suggested I order something with a title like "How to Date the UPS Guy"...that ought to get the message across nicely.  Or, perhaps in the "special instructions" section of the delivery form, I can say something like "After delivering the package, please invite the recipient to coffee at the coffee house of your preference."  Planning.  That's all these things take is planning, right?  Unfortunately my part-time salary doesn't quite include a budget for daily Amazon spending, and good ol' Uncle Sam didn't give me those student loans to help force attractive delivery men to my doorstep all the time.  Shucks.  Perhaps I should have offered him a cold beverage, or dropped something on the floor that I needed to pick up (Legally Blonde, anyone?)

So those were the three men that crossed my path within the last 24 hours: Nick Jonas, Prince Amedeo of Belgium, and the UPS guy.  I expect one of these gentlemen will ask for my hand in marriage any day now. Expect a Save the Date card in the mail soon.

For those of you who were curious, please refer to these two videos for the Nick Jonas vs Better Random YouTube Guy musical comparison...