It's fun, sometimes, to dream about a make-your-own boyfriend. Like, he has the charm and smile of Gyllenhaal, the casual brilliance of DeGrasse Tyson, the truthiness of Colbert, the ab-fabulousness of Bale...I could go on all day cutting and pasting qualities from all my favorite guys onto the blank slate Dream Guy. But, of course, the fantasy doesn't go very far. Or, more specifically, I always start identifying those qualities I love in the person that I love:
Well, he's just as cute as Jake and he knows a hell of a lot more about sciencey things than I do. And now that I think about it, he's the one who owns I Am America (And So Can You). OK OK, so he's not Christian Bale, but whaddya gonna do?
So, yeah, fantasies are nice sometimes but reality is better. I want to write an alternate ending to that State Farm commercial where the couple poofs back into the people they used to be, and then they realize that their fantasies can't hold up to the real people that they're in love with. Because isn't that even nicer?