Melanie’s Deepest Fantasy

There comes a time in every girls life when she prefers fantasy over the real thing.  I love developing crushes on people that I’ve just met only to go home and fantasize about them – I love it.

My Camino crush was this man:

Screen Shot 2013-08-16 at 12.00.18 AMHe’s from Germany and I think his name starts with an H.  I have trouble remembering names I’m not accustomed to hearing.

[Update note:  HULKEN!  I think his name was Hulken.]

If anyone know’s this man, tell him that I love him and he should move to Connecticut so we can start a family.

But because I may never see H again, a girl’s gotta move on to her next unobtainable desire.  My newest fantasies are that of a fellow blogger.

A man needs only two requirements to gain my affection, and that is to be creative and not a dumbass.

The less creative you are, the more apt you are at being a dumbass.  I know it sounds horrible, and I’m sorry for saying it, but the further you are from creativity, the farther you get from believing in yourself and if you have no belief in yourself, you float through life living on other people’s coat tails.  You’re unable to think for yourself and so you cling to those who are stronger – people who do believe in themselves.

You are disgusted by those who have no belief in themselves and want nothing to do with them simply because they embody your own unrealized fears.

You become a social climber, so to speak.  Climbing your way up to the one with the most belief, the most inspiration – because that’s what you lack, inspiration.

Your idol’s beliefs become your beliefs, and you will defend these beliefs because they’re the closest thing you have to believing in yourself.  You are unawakened and not self-actualized.  These are the people without empathy – at their worst, they are capable of becoming nazi’s.

Almost everyone is a dumbass.  Being a dumbass is a danger to society.

There I go talking shit again.

So anyway (I’m sure you’re all familiar with my unprecedented rants by now), I adore creative people.  I relate to them more than I do the dumbasses.

My newest crush is a man that writes a blog.  You can visit him here:  http://anelectricjournalofacastaway.wordpress.com

And here’s a picture of him that I stole from his blog:

post

Although I love all creative creatures, writers capture my heart completely.  I fall for them.  The only problem with that is – I don’t know any writers other than myself!

Anyway, I love this guy.  I love him so much that he is now securely adorned in my fantasies.

I fantasize when I give massages.  I look forward to the time when my client falls asleep on the table so I can begin my inward journey.

Me thinking to myself – What shall I fantasize about today?  Ah yes, Ruann, my newest undeclared soul-mate.

Ruann suddenly walks into my massage office.  I didn’t recognize him at first, and so I greet him as though he were a new client, just like anyone else.

Me – “Hi, are you my next client?  Nice to meet you, I’m Melanie.”

I bounce from my chair with a fresh faced smile.  My hand jutting out for a strong amiable shake.

Ruann – “Uh, Hi.  Nice to meet you.”

He mirrored my handshake, the firmness of it, the friendliness.  It was like he knew my hand before ever having touched it.

Ruann wasn’t sure what to do at that point.  Should he just come out and say it?  Or continue to play himself as a regular client?  Honesty and living from the heart was his true nature, but he didn’t want to frighten the girl who stood before him whom he fell wildly in love with.

Ruann – “I… well, ha, the funny thing is, I know you from your blog.  That’s why I made an appointment.  I wanted to meet the girl behind the curtain.”

My heart drops.

I think to myself – Shit this is weird, what do I do?  It’s not a big deal, calm down.  Who is this guy?  Can it possibly be….no, no way, that’s absurd!

Me – “Holy crap for real?  That’s awesome!”

Even in my fantasies, I can’t escape my unpoetic nature when conversing with others.

Me – “I’m not the same girl from my blog.  I’m different on the outside.  People tell me they would never link me to my blog, it’s like we’re two different people.  I don’t want you getting your hopes up or anything.”

Ruann – “Don’t be silly, I’m the same way!  People tell me that all the time.  They say, ‘Ruann, seriously man, you didn’t write that.  You just copy and paste.'”

Me – “Oh good, so you blog too!  There’s so few of us around.  You’re the first I met other than my Camino friends.”

Ruann – “I’m the first and only of my friends, too.  It get’s kind of lonely.”

Ruann thinking to himself – Oh no I shouldn’t have said that!  Lonely?  Seriously dude?  You are NOT lonely!  This girl hates lonely guys who latch on.  I’m such a dumbass.

Me – “I know exactly what you mean.  It’s like we have no one to talk to, really.  No one to share our thoughts with.”

Ruann – “Maybe that’s why you’re different from your blog.  You meld yourself with the outside world so you’re accepted and easily understood.”

Me – “Ha, yeah.  I thought of that too.  It’s like, I open my heart and write page after page, but when I’m not with my blog, it’s hard to stay vulnerable like that around people who don’t get it. The more my heart stays open, the more hurt I get.”

Ruann – “I totally understand, but pain is a good thing.  You’ll never regret anything as long as you stay open, and you’ll never regret feeling the pain that strengthened you.”

Me thinking – I’m in love.  Holy shit I’m completely in-freaking-love!  Wow, what a rush.  Keep your cool Mel, keep your cool.  Oh God he’s so cute though, I must look away.  No, that’s genuine flirting, look back – he see’s me!  He’s looking straight at me!  And….oh no, I just looked away again.

Me – “I guess you really do read my blog.  It’s like, those are my exact words.  ‘Never be scared of the pain.'”

Ruann – “They’re my words too.  It’s truth, really.  When people are scared, they hurt others.  But when they remain open….”

Me – “…..They’re brave enough to confront their fears and confront themselves, there’s no hidden intensions or manipulations.  It’s like revealing your soul.”

Ruann thinking to himself – Yes, I truly do love this girl.  My hands are sweaty, my heart’s pumping fast.  I MUST calm down.  The last thing she wants is a bumbling, sweaty idiot.  Keep cool man, you’re doing great.

Ruann – “Everyone’s scared…”

Me – “They’re scared of being judged, but they end up being the one’s judging everyone.”

Ruann – “You are the girl from your blog.  You’re exactly her!”

Me thinking – This can’t be the man whose blog I’ve been following for the past year, can it?  Things like this don’t happen in real life!  It’s too surreal.  If this is fate, if he’s here because we belong together – how can I not be in awe of the moment?  How can I not lose myself to it?

Me – “This may sound absurd but, are you Tripletwo?  You remind me of….”

Ruann – ” – I’m Ruann and yes, I’m Tripletwo.”

My knee’s wanted to buckle just like a feather brained cliche.

Me – “Wow, I can’t believe….I mean, it’s just that I read your blog and the chances of you reading mine too are astronomical, aren’t they?  This doesn’t feel…”

Ruann – “…it doesn’t feel real, does it?”

Me – “No, it doesn’t.  I don’t know what to say, honestly.  I’m lost in the moment.”

Ruann – “I know, me too!  I didn’t want to scare you with me coming here, like I’m stalking you or something.  But somewhere some thing was telling me to go to you.”

Me – “I don’t think I ever commented on your blog before, I just left “likes.”

Ruann – “I know.  I only left likes on your blog too.”

Me – “I can’t remember how I found your blog.”

Ruann – “I can’t remember how I found yours either.”

Me – “I hate the word Blog…”

Ruann – “Me too.  It sounds like blob.  There’s no romance in writing blobs.

Me – “It’s so strange.  I mean, I love your blob.  I don’t read many, but yours is one of the few I check regularly.  What are the chances of this happening?”

Ruann thinking to himself – If I was into mushy stuff, I would grab her hand.  But I’m not into mushy stuff, I despise it.

Me thinking – I’m so glad he’s not getting all romantic and mushy on me by grabbing my hand or something corny like that.

Ruann – “How about we forget the massage for now and let’s go grab us a drink at that restaurant upstairs?”

Me – “You drink?”

Ruann – “I love it.”

Me – “I love it too!  I’m a beer and martini girl.”

We start walking towards the restaurant.

Ruann – “Oh yeah?  What kind of martini’s you like?”

Me – “I like the straight-up classic martini.  No frills, just gin or vodka with an olive.”

The scene fades out while we’re still talking….

Raunn – “That’s my kind of drink.  I like to order mine shaken so I can sound like a cool secret agent.”

And…..End scene.

Now don’t get me wrong, not all my fantasies are PG.  But I do get off on forming connections with people.  It’s the kind of intimacy that doesn’t involve physical contact, or plans of marriage or sex.  I get off on feeling connected and loved.  Sex is just a bonus – a bonus I would gladly accept every day mind you, but it’s really not all that important to me.

I could love a paraplegic.  I wouldn’t  leave my husband if he got into a bad accident, or acquired multiple sclerosis, brain damage….etc.  I’m the real deal – holy crap, I really am the real deal!  I never thought about it before.

In continuation of my fantasy, I do end up marrying Raunn and us living in a mansion together.  I give birth to a gifted child who learns the piano at two.

We throw extravagant parties and one of our resentful house guests “accidentally” lights the mansion on fire and burns it to the ground during one of our soirée’s.

Ruann runs inside the house and saves the person who started the fire.  She became trapped inside a smokey room, the doorknob too hot to touch.  Ruann breaks down the door, scoops her up and carries her safely outside, his shirt burnt and singed, exposing a sweaty bicep.

The culprit – “I’m so sorry (cough cough), I didn’t mean to…(cough).”

Ruann – “It’s okay, it’s just a house.  It’s not important.  See, look around you at all these people – they are what’s important.”

I run to his side.  Charlie, our komondor dog, follows me.

Me – “I guess this means a new beginning for us, huh?”

Ruann smiles and says – “yeah, I guess so.”

We passionately kiss.  Our bodies become silhouettes in front of the blazing inferno.  The scene inspires our guests to embrace each other in tears of joy and togetherness.

After the fire, we move to India for a year and live poorly as beggars – learning from Guru’s and each other.

We partake in a sci-fy fantasy adventure to save the world from chaos and demons.  Charlie, our dog, was actually my spirit animal – placed in our lives to protect and guide us.  With his help, and the help of my son deciphering a secret codex, we save all of humanity from darkness.

We became renowned hero’s for a while, living as royalty in India’s most prestigious palace.  Little news traveled back to the states about our heroic tales – and the little that did travel back became viewed as folklore, an impossible myth.

So when Ruann, Charlie, myself, and our little prodigy child move back to Connecticut, we are welcomed back as equals.

We rebuild our lost mansion and reopen it for everyone to enjoy once again – including the person who burned down the last one.

I adopt a few stray teenagers who never knew what a real home felt like.

I write about my journeys in a blog that soon became famous.  People start worshiping me as their savior, a saint – from all the insights and wisdom I share.

I start healing people with my hands.  Teaching them how they can do it too.

But in the end, everyone does the complete opposite of what I wanted to instill in their hearts – that we are all powerful creators.  And not to worship the teapot instead of drinking the tea.

A group of naysayers start picketing our lawn.  Charlie hangs his head and weeps.

Charlie – “It’s starting to happen again.  They are not ready.”

I embrace the naysayers into my home, making them feel welcomed as equals.  To feel loved like siblings of equal value.

One of them rejected my offer of reconciliation, and once again, the mansion was burnt to the ground.  Only this time, with Charlie and me inside.

Ruann falls to his knee’s in front of the burning embers that was once his home.  Weeping and cursing the crowd that appeared to watch the flames.

Ruann – “Is this what you want?!  Is this what you fucking want?!  Well you got it!  You got what you wanted!”

My son, the child prodigy, uses the pain felt from the loss of his mother and began his quest to find me in the after-life using an ancient medicine called ayahuasca.

Charlie, now a winged majestic dragon, leads him to me and finds me with golden gilded wings, pale sparkling skin – hair the color of ivory.  We embrace and I tell him that all is as it should be.

And then I give him the formula for curing cancer with the B-17 vitamin.

The end.

And…..that’s it.  That’s what I think about when I give massages.

But in real life, Ruann is probably 19 years old.  That’s the only reason why this fantasy won’t work.  That’s why I’m calling it a fantasy and not a goal.

The chances of Ruann reading this post?  70%.

11 Comments

Filed under All about me, humor, journal, Strange & Unusual

11 responses to “Melanie’s Deepest Fantasy

  1. Ava

    I feel a screenplay coming on…

  2. Pingback: The wordle that sums up my blog! | luby

  3. Damn. I was hoping you were talking about me for a minute there. LOL!

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