Thursday, July 28, 2011

Optimus Prime

Well, I just saw the third Transformers movie, and it's official: I have a crush on Optimus Prime.

For those of you who aren't familiar, Transformers are cars that can transform into walking, talking robots. It was both a cartoon and a toy back in the 80s and recently made its way into Hollywood with Transformers, Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen, and now Transformers 3, Dark of the Moon. I've seen them all, and let me tell you- Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots, gets more and more attractive with every movie. He's like the George Clooney of inanimate objects.

For those of you who might find it odd that I have feelings for a cartoon machine, I urge you to view the movies yourself- maybe it's his chiseled metal cheekbones, or his deep, gravely robot voice, or his abs of steel- literally. Maybe it's because I love vibrating metal objects. Maybe it's his great leadership qualities- when the chips were down in Transformer 2, who was the guy to rally the troops to fight Megatron? Optimus Prime. Who prevented the Decepticons from hacking into the US Military network? Optimus Prime. And who has those gray-blue eyes that pierce into my very soul? Yup. Same guy.

My favorite fantasy involves Optimus Prime and I, driving up into the mountains together. I'm driving, well- him, and we're chatting about life, love, and timing belts. We're really connecting on a machine to human level, and finally- I pull up to a meadow- birds are chirping, flowers are blooming- and he transforms from the car into the robot (gently unbuckling my seat belt and pulling me out of his insides while he's doing it) and we lay in the soft grass and stare into each others' eyes. The smell of metal and rubber tires is radiating off him like a beacon, and even though kissing him is like frenching a bike pump, I can't stop because I'm in love. He embraces me, his arms feeling like two microwaves pressed around my shoulders. I can feel his tailpipe hard against my thigh, and right before we make love I'll think- if loving a man who resembles a toaster is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

I've already thought about our life together, and being Mrs. Prime. On the weekends we would grab lunch, run some errands, and oil down his dashboard. We'd have barbecues, and all the Autobots would come over- can you image Bumblebee, Jazz, and Ironhide all sitting around my kitchen table, passing around the potato salad? Their clumsy robots fingers would probably really struggle with the silverware. If any of the Autobots spilled any food on themselves I would just run them through the dishwasher, of course. And when we have children, who will look like small golf carts- I will probably stay home with them, while my husband continues fighting intergalactic evils. It's going to be a hard life, me at home alone feeding my baby a bottle of (warmed) gasoline while Optimus is off fighting a war against the Decepticons and their leader, Megatron, in a power struggle for world domination. Sigh. The things we do for love.

When Optimus finally retires and our children have all grown up into sedans (we are so proud!) we'll end up in a scrap yard to idle the days away with all the other Autobot couples. They'll be movie nights (drive in, obviously) and bingo. And even when my husband's paint has chipped off, his leather seats have cracked, and rust forms around his joints- well, we would have gotten all that fixed up because of the lifetime warranty on him, of course. The main thing is that we'll be happy because we'll be together.

I mean, who could resist those cheekbones?!