My mind is like an active imagination times 100. Writing its
self, new plot lines when my real life isn’t interesting enough. It works out
all these great permutation and combinations of things that could make it more
exciting. These usually increase in frequency around birthdays, and holidays.
They are usually filled with the stuff movies are made of - dramatic pauses,
intense lovemaking, and romantic speeches. And because of them I am usually
disappointed by real life.
For example the week leading up to the pastors sons birthday-
In my head, the air was ripe for some drama. I pictured myself being woken up
at the stroke of midnight. Only to have this man standing outside my door,
saying all he wanted for his birthday was ME. I slam the door on his face and
we both stand there, door between us. I compose myself, wonder what to say. I open
the door intending fully to tell him off but he grabs me, holds me and we kiss.
In other combinations of the story I leave him standing at the door and hide in
my room. I even have a make belief speech planned for when the kiss doesn’t
happen.
Of course he wasn’t going to come. We hadn’t spoken in a
good six months. Last I heard, he was happily moved on living with a beautiful
young colleague. Even if in some bizarre
scenario, he had shown up, he would have bumped into my folks first and then my
dog who would have for certain peed on him with excitement.
Anyway, none of this happened and I spent his birthday
walking around suspiciously thinking he was going to pop out of a corner. I
spent the second half sulking cause he didn’t.
I’ve also imagined bumping into him while I’m walking the
dog- this has nothing to do with his birthday. I’m usually a mess and this gets
me thinking that I should dress better when I walk duke (the dog).
I’ve dreamed up
scenarios where I bump into him at a party. These are fun cause I also usually get
to add an awkward meet his new –girlfriend moment in the mix. These play out
either with me being a bitch- where I’m like, “Oh isn’t that outfit just
delightful.” Or with me being a nervous wreck- where I have a verbal diarrhea
moment that requires me to leave the party rather quickly. But I always have a background
story about why I am in Delhi in the first place - cause work took me there, or
it was a wedding in the group. In some
of these figments of my imagination, I have a boyfriend, someone who makes me
look good. A smart, funny and charming boy doing some great, challenging work
that keeps him far to busy but why he bothers to work with a face like his – no
one knows. This make belief boy friend usually swoons in and rescues me from
making an ass of my self and I get to stick it to the pastors son.
So am I being pathetic and crazy. Of course I am!! I think
it’s healthy that I recognize that I’m being pathetic and crazy. But in my
defense I have these fantasies about all the boys in my life not just the ones
that are long gone.
I imagine all bike rides will end with good night kisses. I imagine these kisses will be magical. I imagine that the boy singing to me in Portuguese will one day be a man. I imagine that all the men will forget the other women in their lives- mothers, wives and girlfriends and see that I am awesome.
An idle minds a devils workshop.
