About 21 months ago…
My fantasies about Max had taken on a life of their own. Despite knowing he was engaged, I allowed my imagination to reinvent him as a single, available man — and one who was interested in me. I simply closed my eyes and let my mind play scenes of our time together talking, flirting, realizing that there was something special between us that was worth exploring.
All of this escapism only goes to show how nimble the human mind can be.
After all, the facts were:
- Max and I lived several hundred miles apart,
- he had not expressed any interest in me,
- my ex hadn’t moved out of our home — in fact, I hadn’t even asked him to yet — and he was unlikely to bless any plan that involved his children moving across the country, and
- let’s not forget that in reality, Max was engaged and would be married any day now.
These dreams were all me, indulging an imagination that wanted to run wild. Perhaps a complete escape from reality was exactly what I needed.
Finally, in my foolish fairy tales, Max asked me to visit him. And then I was stuck: I found myself, even in my fantasies, having to confess that I was not truly available. Even if my marriage had crumbled and was long since over, I had not yet communicated clearly to my ex that I was truly finished trying to overcome our differences nor asked him to move on.
Yet somehow, creating my very own fairy tales was giving me the strength to take those next steps.