I’ve always thought being a fairy would be a rather fabulous occupation. Pretty dresses, sparkly wings, a magic wand, and the ability to grant people’s deepest desires. What’s not to love? Of course, after spending enough time around people, I’ve come to realize that giving everyone exactly what they want might be an extraordinarily bad idea.

Because people have some very interesting desires. And not all of them involve living happily ever after.

We all have fantasies. Some are perfectly innocent, like winning the lottery, traveling somewhere exotic, or waking up to discover that someone else has cleaned the house. Others are a little more adventurous. A sexy stranger, a forbidden encounter, or perhaps something involving considerably less clothing than your average fairy tale. Whatever the fantasy, there’s something delicious about letting your imagination wander.

But sometimes what sounds absolutely wonderful in your head doesn’t translate particularly well into real life.

Years ago, a gentleman had a very specific fantasy about how he wanted our time together to unfold. And when I say specific, I don’t mean he had a few preferences or a general idea of what he wanted. I mean he had written a sixty-minute, minute-by-minute itinerary detailing precisely what was supposed to happen and when.

The first three minutes were allocated to greeting me at the door and walking to the bedroom. Minute four was designated for undressing. Minute five had its own assignment, as did minutes six, seven, eight, and every other minute of the hour. I won’t tell you what was scheduled for minute thirty-seven, but I can assure you it wasn’t a coffee break.

Apparently, spontaneity hadn’t made the guest list. I’ve seen corporate meetings with less detailed agendas. And having spent years working in accounting, I can appreciate a well-organized spreadsheet. But this made the SEC  look like Jeff Spicoli. Alas, he was not on the itinerary. Besides, I don’t know many women who find the words “We’re running four minutes behind schedule” particularly seductive.

Now, I’m not opposed to a gentleman knowing what he wants. Quite the contrary. A little imagination, some anticipation, and a willingness to explore can be wonderful things. And I have had requests that I have loved making happen and participating in (I mean who wouldn’t?)  But there’s something wonderfully optimistic about believing you can choreograph an entire intimate encounter down to the minute, print out the itinerary, leave it on the nightstand to ensure the timeline is adhered to, and have another human being perform it exactly as it unfolded in your imagination.

Unfortunately, reality didn’t receive a copy of the script. The whole thing was a disaster. Not because the fantasy was necessarily a bad one, but because chemistry doesn’t operate on a schedule. You can’t allocate three minutes for anticipation, five minutes for passion, and expect the sparks to fly precisely on cue. Romance has never been particularly interested in punctuality, and desire doesn’t respond well to deadlines.

And what happens when you’re running behind schedule? Do we skip ahead? Eliminate a scene? Request an extension? I half expected someone to announce that we were approaching minute thirty-seven and needed to increase productivity.

The funny thing is that I suspect the entire encounter had played out beautifully in his imagination. Every moment was perfect. Every reaction was exactly what he anticipated. Nobody interrupted the flow, misunderstood a cue, or needed an unscheduled bathroom break. And, most importantly, nobody had an opinion about how things should unfold except him.

But that’s the luxury of fantasy. Everyone behaves exactly as they’re supposed to because you’re the one imagining them. Real life is considerably less cooperative. And, if you ask me, considerably more interesting.

We’ve all done some version of this, haven’t we? Planned the perfect romantic evening, imagined an important conversation, or rehearsed exactly how someone would react to a wonderful surprise. We picture the setting, anticipate the response, and sometimes even imagine the words they’ll say. By the time the actual event arrives, we’ve practically directed an entire movie in our heads.

Then the other person opens their mouth. And suddenly we’re working with an entirely different screenplay. I think there’s something amusing about how much confidence we place in our imaginations. We can anticipate almost everything except the inconvenient fact that other people have imaginations of their own. They have preferences, personalities, moods, and an annoying tendency to behave like independent human beings. And sometimes that’s exactly where the fun begins.

After all, some of the most memorable moments are the ones nobody planned. An unexpected kiss, a mischievous smile, a spontaneous laugh, or that wonderful moment when two people realize they’re enjoying themselves far more than either anticipated. No script required. No stopwatch necessary. And absolutely no need for a quarterly performance review.

Which brings me back to my hypothetical career as a fairy. I happen to be very good at creating a little magic. I love making people feel special, turning ordinary moments into memorable ones, and occasionally making a wish or two come true. What I’m not particularly good at is recreating a fantasy that exists entirely inside someone else’s head. And frankly, I don’t think anyone is.

The real magic happens when you stop trying to direct every moment and simply allow yourself to enjoy it. Put down the script, forget the schedule, and pay attention to the person who’s actually there with you. You might be surprised to discover that reality can be even more wonderful than anything you imagined. After all, there’s a rather delightful difference between imagining something and actually experiencing it.

I may not have a magic wand, but I do have fairy wings.

And I’ve been known to work a little magic. 

Charlotte