The Official Amy Alkon Website

All About Amy
New Columns
Really Old Columns
Goddess Blog
Amy's Book Picks
Amy's Links
Love Letters
The Pink Rambler
Contact Info


Bad Hobbits Die Hard

My husband’s a great guy, but we’ve lost romantic interest in each other. After 10 years together, I’m no supermodel, and he’s as romantic as a refrigerator. I’ve fallen in love with someone else -- Frodo Baggins, the lead Hobbit in the movie “The Lord of the Rings.” By that, I mean I took a movie character whose looks I like, and fantasized his personality into the sort of man I’d always dreamed of. I developed this escape technique as a teenager, and can’t seem to break it. The fact is, real life is drab and fantasy is exciting. When my husband and I met, he made my fantasy boyfriend seem boring in comparison. If I force myself to focus on real life and my real-life man, maybe I could be happy. Without expensive therapy, how do I break up with my fantasy boyfriend forever?

--Dreaming of Middle Earth

What happened, you logged into the famous dude fantasy store and all the Daniel Day-Lewises, Brad Pitts, and Johnny Depps were taken? One would hope. Because, if your first-choice fantasy is falling into the arms of a four-foot dwarf with dirty fingernails, pointy ears, and big hairy feet -- well, it’s a good thing you didn’t go into more detail about your reality, just in case anyone’s reading this while eating.

In the movie, your unlikely hero, Frodo, nobly volunteered for a quest he didn’t want and wobbled off in hopes of saving the world from big, black doom -- all the while looking very Bambi-in-headlights about the whole deal. Yes, in a world of Terminator 3’s, you go for The Twerpinator. At least you’re original. Despite Frodo’s twerpiness, he does fit the mold of the Prince Charming type -- those guys who are supposed to “save” (bored, lethargic) damsels from their (dull) distress. That’s really what you’re after, right? Glass slippers and all. Well, guess what? In real life, glass slippers give you corns.

If you want something from your husband, don’t sit around waiting for him to notice the big comic strip thought bubble over your head, ask him for it: “Yo, hub, would you consider getting a small field of hair plugs implanted in the tops of your feet...just for me? How about doing that frat party trick where a guy walks on his knees with his shirt and pants arranged so he looks four feet tall?” The next step is asking him what he’s into. Sounds like it used to be giving you what you’re into -- until you withdrew into your head with dwarf boy, and locked your husband out. Gee, could that be contributing to what you describe as his current major appliance-like state? I wonder!

You got stuck on the four-foot stud by thinking about him constantly; unstick yourself by unthinking about him constantly. (Self-discipline, how kinky!) The moment he pops into your mind, swat him out and replace him with thoughts of your husband; for example: what you can do for your husband, ways you can have fun with your husband, and what’s sexy about a man who isn’t easily mistaken for a furry nightstand.

Regarding your desire to avoid “expensive therapy,” how much is your marriage worth to you? $5? $50? $500? Should you reach your cutoff point, at least have the decency to upgrade your mental infidelity figure to the likes of Hugh Jackman, Taye Diggs, or Orlando Bloom. No matter what you do, your husband will never become your Hobbit, but if you care enough to put in the effort, you might someday have yourself a real Mini-Me among men.

Copyright ©2003, Amy Alkon, from her syndicated column, "The Advice Goddess," which appears in over 100 papers across the U.S. and Canada. All rights reserved.