Fantasies are Safer

I’m in love….

And he's fine ya'll...I mean...so fine. He has this amazing smile...one dimple in his left cheek....perfectly faded haircut with the sharpest edge-up. His goatee is coal black, and just shaped up to perfection. He always smells amazing. He has this skin so smooth...sort of this caramel-butterscotch-cocoa mix. His eyes are big and brown...not overly big...just bright. He doesn't have any children. He is a professional and educated man. He's humble to a fault, loving and giving....He takes me on the most amazing and creative dates. Flowers for no reason. He can cook. We are talking G. Garvin good.....and he has the most infectious laugh. He's thick. He has an ass you can bounce a quarter off of (esp. in his boxer briefs).....and yes ladies, he's HUNG. OMG! The bedroom action ranks up there with the best I've ever had....he's incredible... I mean...just last night...we made love on my dining room table.... He's smart and funny. And reads more than Smooth Magazine....We can engage in talking about the newest album out....to political pundants and their opinions....He has creative and unique hobbies....He keeps himself in shape. But he isn't all overly cut or sloppy fat either. Or too skinny...not perfect. He has his imperfections. He'll marry me someday....I know he will.

His name?? Er???? Uh....see the thing is...I don’t know WHO he is.................I just know I'm in love with him already!

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These days I do a lot of “living in my head”. My dating life has come to a grinding halt. No dates. No phone calls. No first kisses. First dates or butterflies. I’ve consumed myself with applying to PhD programs, working out, trying to find new things to do solo, and mindless amounts of TV and books. The only time my Blackberry goes off is for endless junk mail and Facebook alerts. Therefore, I figure that if I have a make-believe love life…I can sort of add it to my “mental hope chest”: piecing together the type of guy I’d like to encounter…store it away…and come back to it when necessary.

In a lot of ways, this type of imagining gives me comfort. I go on the best dates in my head (LOL). Horseback riding. Ice-skating. Wine-tasting and cooking classes a la “Hitch”. I file these ideas away, hoping some day I’d get to do these things (with or without Mr. Fantasy Man). It also allows me to have some glimmer of hope that he’ll manifest himself in real life. It makes me feel that I know I am a desirable girl that perhaps a man like this would want.

But in more ways that not, it’s sort of pathetic. I admit it. Having a glass of wine wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, pretending it’s “Gavin” (that’s my imaginary dude’s name...LOL) is sort of sad. The only thing that would make it even more pathetic is if I had a cat. Luckily, I’m allergic to cats and my complex charges way too much for a pet fee.
I suppose it is safer this way. To indulge myself in fantasy. It protects my heart from being broken. And I am scared to death to actually meet guys. I feel in a lot of ways awkward, goofy and a bit unsure of myself around the opposite sex. I know some sense that. Yet, there are times I feel TOTALLY self-assured and confident… (And no one approaches. LOL). I just don’t want the fantasy to take over and not allow me to actually take a leap of faith, and get out there and MEET people.

I’m wondering if this is even healthy.