#61 Sometimes a Fantasy is All You Need

August 31, 2020

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time indoors. I was bookish, despised sports, and prone to vicious sunburns so you wouldn’t find me running, jumping, or climbing trees. I wasn’t shy, not at all, but I was much more interested in reading books or watching TV shows about wild adventures than actually having wild adventures. 

 

My favorite shows were the ones with strong female leads — women kicking ass and looking great while they did. Spies, detectives, superheroes, yes please. And their romantic pursuits? I drank them like a glass of Nestle Quick. 

Who remembers this guy? 

 

I’d imagine myself as Diana Prince (a.k.a Wonder Woman) pining for Steve Trevor while saving him from the Nazis. Or The Bionic Woman/Jamie Summers who everyone knows is meant to be with The Six Million Dollar Man/Colonel Steve Austin. If only I didn’t get these horrible bionic-induced headaches every time I remember our past romance, we could run off into the sunset in super Slo Mo. 

 

This episode had it all: Nazis, a Wonder Woman lookalike, chloroform!  

 

Once I woke up from a nightmare and ran to wake up my mother, only to find that she’d been replaced with a FemBot!* A classic dream within a dream. My dreams felt so real that I was sometimes physically sick. 

 

To this day, I have a fantastic secret fantasy life. For as extroverted as I am, I spend an awful lot of time constructing elaborate worlds, usually starring me as the reluctant hero, surrounded by friends and foes, making our way through the zombie apocalypse. During the years when LOST was a top-rated show, I’d spend most of my time on long-haul flights determining who would be most likely to be able to rescue me in the event of a water landing and who I’d ally myself with as we create our new civilization on the island. Top candidates looked like they would be strong swimmers or were reading very large books. 

 

I've been courted by, married to, and divorced from  a scandalous number of celebrities. Recently, in real life, two of my celebrity rock star crushes were photographed together at an event and I had a moment of anxiety:

 

“God, I hope they don't figure out that they were both married to me!"

 

Another thing that has always made me a little nervous is this fear that I might hit my head and get amnesia. But I get the kind of amnesia where I only remember the fantasy version of my life. I wake up with a full and richly-detailed account of my life and be very confused and frightened that the doctors don’t believe me.

 

“If only you'd just call my husband, Dave Grohl, he'll straighten all this out!! No, of course I don’t know his phone number. I have AMNESIA."

 

So, what I’m saying is, if you catch me staring into space: PLEASE DON’T BOTHER ME.

Come back later. Like later later.  

 

60/100

 

 

*FemBot from The Bionic Woman, not Austin Powers

 

 

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