You know those scenes in movies that we internalise and then subconsciously try to reproduce? Like the bended-knee proposal, and the throwing vases at the wall, and the riding a harley into the sunset, the hugging your pillow when your lonely, and the dozing on the verandah in a cowboy hat chewing a piece of straw [heheh, eh, grass]?

It’s interesting that this stuff has become so internalised that you don’t even realise how silly they are until you try them. Seriously. I mean I knew this boy once, we were walking in the estate on a cool night, it was pretty quiet, there was a full moon. We were talking about something completely sensible, I forget what, then he suddenly stops, holds my shoulders and turns me to face him.

The poor dear wasn’t quite sure what to do after that, so he explained that he was trying to be romantic and kiss me coz I look so pretty in the moonlight. I smiled, more amused than impressed, and closed my eyes and…

…then a dog barked right behind us and we nearly jumped out of our skin. We ran, and then we laughed, and I think that’s one of my best memories with that boy. Of course he tried to recreate the moment a little later, but somehow it just didn’t come off like the movies.

Then there’s that scene where the girl has had a long day and sits in a bubblebath with lavender and music and cucumbers and a good book. Or sometimes rosepetals and jellysalts and company. I used to do that when I was little – lock myself in the bathroom, fill the tub, and soak in it with a novel till the water was cold.

I tried it recently, the tub and the book and the cucumber. Somehow it didn’t quite work out. For one thing, the bubbling water feels cool after about five minutes, coz your body adjusts to the temperature. And since I now have some…fat reserves that I didn’t have as a kid, I’m a lot more buoyant, so it was impossible to stay submerged. And I’m a lot taller too, so I couldn’t quite fit in the basin. I suppose a jacuzzi might be better, but I’m not holding my breath.

There’s the sitting by the fire myth. I did that too, in a nice colonial cottage. That was fun, that didn’t disappoint. Of course the firewood ran out after about 30 minutes, but it was kinda fun staring into the flames and watching the shapes and shadows for those thirty minutes. And since I was only going to bed afterwards, it didn’t matter that I smelt of smoke. Not until the next morning when I realised that everything in my luggage smelt of smoke too. Sigh.

I did the walking-by-the-river thing, listening to the water gurgle by, watching the birds and the flowers, closing my eyes and feeling at one with nature. Oh that was just beautiful. Until the mosquitoes attacked my legs, and the ants bit my bare feet, and the shamba boys across the fence started yelling ‘wee rasta njoo tukuone’ and I realised that all that lay between us was a one inch stream, a papyrus plantation and a reed fence…so I ran closer to the security guards and played on a swing instead. 😀

Some wicked soul [accurately] said the best way to stop temptation is to give in to it. I think the best way to ridicule fantasy is to live it. Trust me, having him feed you strawberries dipped in vanilla ice cream isn’t as funky as it sounds, especially if you don’t like strawberries. And when that boy bathes you in honey or nutella and licks it off, the only ecstasy you’ll be wanting is a hot soapy shower. So live out your fantasies – unless they involve other people’s partners – but remember to carry your funnybone.

In other news, I had a really bad day yesterday. I’ve always said, in true hollywood-fantasy style, that after a day like that, what a girl needs is to get home, have her feet massaged and her shoulders rubbed as she whines about the day, probably have one of those hot-tub-cucumber baths and have him make dinner and feed strawberries and lick honey and all that yummy stuff.

But yesterday, all I wanted was to be alone, find a nice quiet hole, sit in the dark and think myself into nothingness, which is what I did [there was a power blackout]. I didn’t crave his company at all. Interesting.

I have to admit though, when I finally left my dark lucid thoughts and crawled in to bed, I did long for someone strong, soft and cuddly to hold until the morning. I’m incorrigible. I wonder if Gish ever found that bedwarmer she was looking for…

PS: Someone has just asked me out for drinks tomorrow, after work. I’ve never been asked out for drinks before, so I’m nervous. I’m pretty sure it’s a business thing, and I am so not getting dressed up. How I wish he was younger and single-er.

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