Monday, 15 December 2008

On the shattering of fantasies

It's not evening midday and yet already today has thrown up a devastating occurence.

I left my house bright and early as I had it in my head that my doctor was open from 9-12. No sooner had I got out my front door than I saw someone I'd really rather not have seen - details not important - and off I went to the surgery. Except it opened at 12 rather than closed then so I figured I'd just go and sit in a cafe and read my book for a bit.

It was pretty busy but I managed to find a seat in a booth and there I sat, reading. Then, something that has always been a fantasy of mine happened - a beautiful girl approached and asked if I'd mind her squeezing in beside me. I smiled and gestured to the space, which she occupied, also smiling, and enquired as to what I was reading. Now, in the fantasy I'm reading Auster or Murakami, which happen to be her favourite authors too. We strike up conversation over a few more coffees, exchange numbers, and so begins something wonderful. In reality though I could only answer with the truth, "Um... the novelisation of Alien: Resurrection..." to which she replied with, "Right," drank her coffee and fucked off.

Thrown by both my earlier encounter and the fact that this was even happening I was too tongue-tied to make light of it. She's gone forever.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...


I think that's probably a farily common fantasy. I would have tried to recover by saying something stupic like, "Um, it's one of those guilty pleasure books. I just finished....uh...Moby Dick. How about you?"