my mechanic, my fiancee

i wanna marry my mechanic.
he's polish, late 40's, named stan. he's got a big fat black and white cat. he's got a thick accent and you can't really understand him over the phone very well. he's matter-of-fact and gives me discounts on oil changes. he actually wants to help. he works alone. he loves his job. he knows everything about my car, and that kind of intimacy turns me on.
when somebody has such a depth of knowledge in a field where i am almost completely ignorant, that person immediately becomes attractive. well, it's also his kindness and soft-spoken manner, and let's face it, he's polish. i'm a sucker for eastern europeans.
i'll never marry stan, in this world or any other. i'll never feel his rough thick hands caress my delicate piano player's fingers. i'll never have to wash his oily trousers. i'll never gaze, mechanic at my side, upon warsaw spires. but ain't it nice to fantasize...