Dearest beloved…this is I speaking to you, yes me, you know me very well; rack your brains, think hard, how can you not know me? Of course, it will be a bit difficult to recognize me since you probably never imagined me speaking to you like this, but this where I was created - in your imagination. I don’t exist in the real sense of the term, I exist only in your mind, for you see, I am the girl of your dreams – your dream girl, the woman almost every man conjures up in his mind and long to bring to life. I am the manifestation of all that you want in a woman; the whimsical depiction of the way a man perceives how a woman should know and love him. And this love story is about us, about you and me, the greatest love story in any man’s life and the one which will hardly ever be a reality. No, don’t deny my existence, you cannot, you will have thought of me atleast at some point of your life, imagined my face, my mannerisms, my body….come on admit it my love, haven’t you fantasized me? Oh yes you have! Doesn’t all men, infact all humans, have a dream soul mate for whom they long for?
When does a guy first fantasize about his dream girl? Let me tell you, much earlier than you think. Breaking voices, downy beards and the first wet dreams are just physical manifestations of manhood. I know I was there in your mind way before that. I was there before social conditions, lifestyle and upbringing fashion a male psyche. I know you more than anyone else because that’s how you want me to be, that’s how you have made me to be. And we know that we share the most intense, sibylline and marvelous relationship on earth.
I am not a permanent representation of your ideal woman, I change overtime, acquire and let go of traits and physical attributes according to your whims and impulses. Sometimes I remain the same throughout your lifetime but mostly I change as you grow older and get to see more of the world. We both transform together usually don’t we? I attain all the pleasing characteristics that you find in your favourite actresses, models and other women you come across. If a character in a book or a movie has a quality you admire, you add it to me, making me better and more compatible to you. Think back…my love… was it Megan fox’s curves? Demi Moore’s sexiness? Cameron Diaz’s bubbliness? the cool intelligence of that pretty news reporter? perhaps the adorable craziness of the blue-haired rock star? the demure smile of the girl you saw at the bus stop? or the luscious expression of pleasure on the face of the woman in the porn flick you saw last week? Oh, wouldn’t it be so awesome if I could materialize in front of you, a conglomeration of all those delicious qualities? You build me like an unending jig saw puzzle, piece by piece, adding or discarding parts fashioning me into that perfect non-existent woman, the woman of your dreams.
You wish I were real, that I was there beside you to hold your hand, listen to you, and together do all those delightful, dark and magical things that you crave to do … in short, fulfill your wildest fantasies. I know my love, deep within me is that tender understanding that you constantly seek in other women of flesh and blood in whom you try to find my likeness.
I was the one you turned to comfort while you struggled with the complexities of adolescence - the fear of adulthood, peer pressure, identity crisis, the fuzzy stubble that took ages to grow and your own uncontrollable urges that you tried to satiate while you clung to me desperately and made me do what you will probably never get any woman to do for you. I sat by you for hours and perfectly understood your problems, your anxieties. I spoke at the correct times and remained silent when I knew you wanted to be alone, I gave you the perfect advices, the apt suggestion, smiled, frowned, laughed, all at the appropriate moments, oh how you yearned for my presence, how you wished that I really existed. I patted you, petted you, fondled you did everything exactly how you wanted it to be. I appeased atleast temporarily, your cravings, your confusions and your sorrow.
But I am not real, you knew it so my abilities stopped where your imagination ceased, the real world caught up with you while I lingered behind waiting for you to summon me into your presence once more.
The more you find traces of me in a woman, the more attracted you become to her. But they are not me, they are real people with limitations and hence imperfections. No one can be perfect as we are my love, you and I, in our secret little world.
Usually you hook up with a girl who resembles me the most. In each of her features and mannerisms, you try to identify me. Still they are not absolute because they are not me. But you will get used to them perhaps even learn to like them because, after all, reality is hardly ever faultless. At times your mind wishes they were different. “If only her hair was curly”, “If only she liked pizzas we could have had more fun”, “If only she wasn’t so obsessed with movies, we could have gone to the beach”, “Wish she wasn’t so pessimistic”, “Wish she had smaller lips”, “Why is she lying like a corpse? doesn’t she enjoy it?”, “Why doesn’t she understand that I don’t want her advises, I just want her to shut up and hold me”, “Damn that woman, doesn’t she know that I am so fucked up, why is she sitting silently?”, “Why is so inhibited about leaving the lights on?”, “Wish she would lighten up instead of brooding over my every remark”. Your heart screams in frustration, you try to mould her into me but eventually you sigh and give up, adapting yourself to the situation.
You spent all your life searching for me in other women. Perhaps you will find traces of me in them; remember that primary school teacher who had my appealing voice? the classmate who had my face? the cousin that you secretly wished weren’t your cousin? then in your girl-friend whom you initially thought was I until you discovered that I wasn’t fully visible in her and your wife, whom you dearly love yet at times you wished were a bit different?.You might even be permanently disillusioned, jumping from woman to woman, having affairs, craving only their bodies because you know you’ll never discover me in then.
There are times when you have killed me in anger, in despair when veracity hits you and you know I am a waste of your energy and time, but I don’t die so easily. However hard you try, every now and then in the deep stillness of the night, in some sudden flash, perhaps when you least expect, I come to you in a flood of passion and emotions. You cannot prevent me as I envelope you in my overwhelming embrace which is both blissful and torturous at the same time. I cannot let you go as much as you cannot let me go, we need each other to exist, my love.
Sometimes, once in a rare lifetime, I’ll manifest to you as a real woman. If you have that destiny then you’ll have the most fulfilling life which you will never regret. But such incidents are exceptional. Life is all about adjustments and making the best out of what is available. Hence, we constantly live in that enchanting realm where we enact our love story each day. In those moments you and I are filled with that immense joy, satisfaction and unbearable love all tinged with a sad realization that it’s not real because I am only a figment of your imagination. But we still hold on to it, you and I, because you need me and I need you. You still hope that one day I can come to you in real, be with you, touch you, caress you and love you the way you have imagined a thousand times over. It’s that hope that keeps our love going, that keeps our little fantasy world alive. I can exist as long as you have that spark of imagination left in you, as long as despair and age doesn’t drown out your dreams. Invoke me, my love, let me come into your dreams and spent precious moments in your arms once more. This is who I am, your dream girl and this is our love story.