Fulfillment-Oriented

...is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?/ Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality/ Open your eyes....


I walk in, spotting at the end of the room the man I came to see. The beertender remembers my brand, and I've got a cold one in front of me in no time at all.

"Hey, sweetheart! How the hell are you?"

He pats my hand fondly. He likes me. Never underestimate the attractiveness of listening intently and laughing at someone's jokes.

"Where you been? I thought you didn't like it here anymore."

Busy. Too busy for beer, isn't that sad?

Never underestimate the power of flattery. He admires me, and I preen. What? Please, it's been a whole week of being my regular self.

Spots of bright illuminate the darkness. This place walks the line between seedy and cozy, if it can be granted that seedy and cozy are closer than shouting and waving distance. I like it here. I feel energized and safe, both at once, which is exquisite.

"Look at you. You got that librarian thing going on. Gimmie those glasses a minute- do you even need them? I think you wear them just for the fantasy aspect."

I hand them over and he admits they're no prop.

"No, but you've got that fantasy thing going on, you know it, a man expects any minute you're gonna take off them glasses and let down your hair..."

There is just one clip holding my hair, and it comes out easily. He stops mid-sentence. The beefy new beertender hurries over, wide-eyed, to introduce himself.

"You did that on purpose."

Well... you kind of asked for it.



(Bohemian Rhapsody; Queen)