Fantasies

We’re having our ducts cleaned today. When I called to set up the appointment, the man I spoke with was sweet and funny and called me ma’am. At the end of our 20 minute long conversation a fantasy started to build. You know, the man in uniform shows up at your door, all business but with a trace of a smile in his eyes. And the smile gravitates to the rest of his face when you open the door.

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve not really ever been one for delivery or work man fantasies. I’ve never really been one for fantasies at all actually. But the ones I do have are generally very boring in that they never revolve around a specific person or scenario. My biggest fantasy is always that some stranger will be so taken with me that he can’t help but sweep me off my feet.

It’s almost embarrassingly simple. There’s no bending me over the Xerox machine or throwing me down in the back of his delivery truck. It’s just that some beautiful man will, upon seeing me, quite simply realize that he can’t live without me.

I don’t usually make it beyond that one detail. But that’s me though. When I was younger I didn’t really dream that much about the details that would make up the man of my dreams. I never dreamt about the details of my wedding. But I did think about how it would feel to walk up the aisle with his eyes seeing only me.

It must all sound terribly self-centered. But isn’t that how most fantasies are? We give ourselves permission to think only about how it would feel to be the most beautiful, the most successful, the best, the greatest.

I guess the flip side of that coin for me is that not only do I want to feel the most in my fantasies, but I also want my presence in his life to make him feel that way. I want to make someone else feel like he could conquer the world or fly to the moon simply because I’ve got his back.

I’m a hopeless fucking romantic.