For the past couple of weeks, I have been having what most people would view as a pleasant fantasy (and I even do for the first few moments of it–and then it becomes torturous). In it, I am entering my hotel room (so this would only have a couple more weeks to happen if it were going to–which it won’t). I turn on the light by the door and a woman is seated on the bed. She smiles when she sees me and I smile back. Both smiles are genuine. She stands and walks towards me. I meet her halfway and we embrace. (And for those interested, no, she’s not naked.)
She asks me how the day was and how I’m doing. We walk back towards the bed and sit and talk, happy to be in each other’s company. She makes me smile and I make her laugh. Occasionally, one will touch the other. After a while, we might start reading and drinking tea. And yes, sometimes we do end up doing the mattress mambo, but not always.
Sounds nice, right? Possibly even romantic, right? So why do I call it useless, especially when, as fantasies are supposed to, this one is unlike my life and reminds me of the happiness that might be out there. Because I am nuts. It’s that simple.
I am an extremely shy person, and really, not to put too fine a point on it, I’m scared of people, especially women, even though no woman has really done me wrong–probably because I’ve never been in a relationship where a woman could do me wrong. To go further, I’ve never been in a relationship, period.
And in fact, there are times when I feel like the reason I don’t try to meet a woman is not shyness or fear (or not only those), but because I don’t feel like I deserve to have anybody (especially a woman) love me–that I’m such a horrible, ugly person that it is my lot to be alone.
All this fantasy tends to do is to make me really lonely and sad.
I guess it’s a good thing nobody reads this.