I hear a lot that women fantasize more than men do. I hear this is why the romance novel industry is a multi-billion industry, because women just love to fantasize. Well, this might be true in matters of romance (although I want to see some numbers on that), but I can tell you that in my vast experience of talking to men, on the whole, men fantasize much more than women. As in constantly. And not about what you might think.
The following is part of an actual email I received from one of my closest male friends, who was bored while trying to study for the bar, and let his mind begin to wander:
"I'm in Russia post-bar. Maybe a ship. Maybe stormy. I prevent some devious and dangerous crime. Months later in Chicago. Having dinner w/ firm folks. Attacked by Russian types. Big Bear of a dude. We show down. Many possibilities here, but final: I defend myself a little, a little impressively, but clearly will lose. Then intervention by other Russians. In charge is beautiful russian woman. Sort of modeled on the russian fighter girl from Street Fighter (though maybe w/out communist beret...). Somehow we have a past. Maybe on the boat. But there's still electricity.
Phew! Got me through this morning..."
Ok. Let me clarify for you, because it took a few emails back and forth for the entire thing to become clear (although it never made it to the point of realistic). My otherwise normal friend spent the morning daydreaming about protecting Russians from some devious crime on a boat and perhaps developing some chemistry with a woman who looks about like this, after which, the spurned criminals hunted him down in Chicago and were about to mangle him (despite his impressive efforts of fending them off) when said beautiful woman and her posse of Russian protectors arrived and saved the day, presumably by beating the snot out of the criminal Russians. He and Russian woman fall into one another's arms. Perhaps they go for cocktails and he regales her with his latest musings on Hegel. Whatever. I have one thing to say to this:
You may be thinking to yourself, "why would her friend even tell her about this?" Well, in fact, he began the email by saying "you would appreciate this." Why would I appreciate this? Because I married the King of fantasizers.
Oh yes. There isn't an idle moment when Patto is not inventing scenes of attacking marauders and his ensuing and heroic intervention. These episodes occur most frequently on the train. Patto will start staring off into space, and perhaps begin to squeeze my hand uncomfortably. I wriggle free and he looks up all sheepish. "What?" I say. And then he is explaining how he was imagining if the guy at the end of the train suddenly jumped up and pulled a knife on us how he would block like this (quick demonstration) and then would jump up and swing around the balance pole (I imagine like a stripper - but I don't think that's what he had in mind) and kick the guy in the chest, but then what if the guy jumped up and a bunch of his friends ran to help him? (What is it with guys and gangs of criminals?) THEN he would grab the closest one and throw him like this, and then trip the second one over the first one's body, and then hold him in this kind of choke hold and force the others to call the police on themselves or he would snap the hostage like a twig! And then....
You get the idea.
So let them say that women are always fantasizing. Just know that the next time your brother/friend/husband seems to have zoned out, he is probably dueling an escaped and psychopathic criminal pirate, who is attempting to derail a large passenger train loaded with rare medicine and bound for a small and impoverished village in Africa, (oh! and the conductor is a beautiful and intelligent woman who's father is the CEO of WorldBank!), and the only way to stop the crazed pirate is to hop a runaway stagecoach and set a trap involving Algerian bulls (the natural enemy of pirates) and then beat him in a battle of wits! And then...
You get the idea.