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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.
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