We’d pull over on the highway and go for long walks in the woods, hand in hand. We’d play kickball in the rain with our friends. We’d hide in closets to eat raw cookie dough without being judged. We’d dance in grocery store aisles. He’d be awkward and clumsy and have a goofy smile and a Xander-esque sense of humor.
We would cuddle and watch Firefly and Friendship is Magic and Buffy and Top Gear and Monty Python for hours. We would read comics together. He would get all of my pop-culture references and laugh at all my jokes. He would introduce me to the wider world of gaming beyond The Hobbit for Playstation 2, and he wouldn’t judge me for my lack of exposure. We would stay up late reading the internets together. He would fence beautifully and I’d always beat him, but only by one touch. And he wouldn’t mind.
We would be big damn heroes together. There would be plenty of chivalrous punching. There would be a total re-enactment of that episode of Firefly where Mal punches that jerk that called Inara a… woman of easy virtue (but in cruder terms) and then beats him in a fencing duel like a total badass and then there’s that part where he stabs him and says that line about how mercy is the mark of a great man that makes my knees go weak every time. And we would teach all the bullies out there a lesson. And we would make giant cauldrons of soup and feed everybody who was hungry. And we would mess with all the corporate douches who capitalize on other people’s poverty. And we would go around saving people and sticking it to the Alliance- I mean man. We would be total Robin Hoods. With swords.
His love would give me faith. I would grow strong. I would hold on to the rope of God and I would pray sincerely and fervently all the time. I would believe that my prayers were heard. I would believe that God cared. I would feel love from and for God and all of His creation. I would be grounded, humbled, and one with everything. I would believe in myself. I would believe that I was lovable. I would feel safe and warm and loved and like I belonged. I would be able to sort through all my complexes and fix all my broken parts and be at peace with my whole family. I wouldn’t need to run away from the family mess. He would fix me.
I would be witty and intelligent and better than everyone else at most things. I would be delightful both to look at and to sing with. I would enchant everyone I met with my superhuman kindness and good looks, I would awe them with my strength, inspire them with my wisdom, brighten their lives with my wonderful quips. Birds would help me get dressed in the mornings.
All the boys would want to take me in a manly fashion, because I would be pretty (but I would be loyal to my gentleman). And yet; I would not have to be conventionally effeminate. I would be gallant and brave, I would save lives, I would build things and lift stuff and fix cars. I would throw a football farther than any star quarterback, I would out-fence all the boys. I would be able to do fifty chin ups in one go. I would sucker-punch scumbags for doing scummy things that merit punching. George Bush would have several shiners from me. As would Cheney. And Ahmedinejad. And every jerk who has ever bullied a kid on the playground.
We would climb trees together and sit among the leaves and look at the toy-world below and talk about nothing and everything. We would snuggle up under blankets on snowy afternoons before a fire and read to each other. We would go for walks in the wintry woods and he would give me his coat and I’d give him my mittens. We would watch musicals and mock them but secretly we’d know that there was a void in us that was filled by the spontaneous singing. Sometimes we would pretend we were in a musical and sing songs that applied to our situations.
We would have a bird named Jacques and a cat named Miss Kitty Fantastico. We would eat ice cream for breakfast on rainy mornings. I would wear my dockers to our wedding. And we would adopt and foster tons of kids and give them a real home. We would teach them all to fence and they’d join the bigger family that I’ve found in fencing. We would have an old volkswagen bus and we’d call her Serenity. We would help people for a living and I would write revolutionary comic books, comics that redefined the medium forever, and donate all the profit to charity.
I would have my own home. If I had a gentleman-caller.
UPDATE: So, wrong pronouns, same wistfulness.