Every time we walked out our condo front door, there they were.
In their fancy cocktail dress and dapper suit. Always looking perfect. If they did wear jeans, they cost more than my car. One time they were on their way to a baby shower with the most perfect looking gift bag and hand-painted gift tag and I had to wipe the drool from my chin.
They were never in over-sized sweatpants and t-shirts. They probably didn't OWN t-shirts. Definitely not ones from pub crawls.
Mrs. Gatsby always had perfect blonde hair with perfect loose curls. Mr. Gatsby was thin, but with just enough perfect muscle that his suits fit perfectly. Their condo was probably perfect, too, like a William Sonoma ad. They were the epitome of young and fabulous.
We always imagined they were going to fancy wine and cheese parties. Or vacationing in whatever was Minneapolis' version of the Hamptons. They probably went to brunches with mimosas and brought home fresh flowers for their bedside.
Every time we dressed up, we said "ooh, we're like the Gatsbys." Or when we ordered a cheese plate and had champagne sent to our table, "this is what the Gatsbys do!"
We took wedding pictures that are slightly Gatsbyish. And we danced to Gatsby-like songs.
We don't even live next to the Gatsby couple anymore. Now, we just enjoy saying things like, "Hey let's do something Gatsby this weekend."
So instead of sweatpants and Netflix, we go to a wine bar. Or dress up for dinner, even if it's not required.
And next year, you will find this Gatsby couple here.
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