Fantasies / Fantasmes part 2

Comme toujours, en français sous « lire la suite « 

Following the excellent article by Servetus, I have slightly delayed the publication of this one because I felt the need to develop certain aspects of my thinking. What I found particularly interesting in her article is that she conjures different characters played by Mr A in her fantasies. Richard as himself, or at least as she sees him, only came later, when she allowed herself to fantasize about him. Personally, I’ve never fantasized about one of his character, ever. I understand the attraction they may have for some, but not for me. Only Mr A as himself takes part in my fantasies, because as I said during the 30 day RA challenge , my favorite of his characters is his public persona,  therefore it’s logical that he’s the hero of my scenarios. Why should I be embarrassed to admit this ? The vision I have of Richard is as fictional than the one I have of Guy or Lucas, so I see no reason to police what I say.

Richard Armitage at the Hobbit press conference, the only protagonist of my fantasies

After my childhood fantasies, the one that makes me endure my job when  it exhausts me or when there’s a tension with le BF is Richard. I only have two fantasy about him, and only the most recent (and most powerful) interests me here. This is a not a writing master piece, I’ve simply tried to summarize the scenario I play with so do not expect a work of art!🙂

Journalist for a magazine, I’m on my way to the Hobbit press conference for the movie promotional tour in Bordeaux (even if it’s a major french city, it’s far from enough to attract the Hobbit but… fantasy :)). I’m dogged by misfortunes, the tram I’m in goes down  and I have to finish the journey on foot. It starts raining and my shoes hurt. I wanted to be a « real woman » by wearing heels,  but now I regret it. I always have a pair of flat shoes in my bag, so I changed, keeping the other pair in hand, and resume my route. I finally get to the hotel, drenched and exhausted, only to realize that I missed the conference.

The Regent Hotel in Bordeaux, one of my fantasy scenery

Annoyed, I’m about to leave , thinking about my boss’ future scolding when I see two men coming off the hotel bar. I know it’s him. His back is turned to me, accompanied by his publicist, but I’d recognize him amongst a thousand. I know I look miserable, hair dripping, mascara probably streaming on my cheeks, heels in hand, but I can’t miss this opportunity. I approach him but his agent is standing before him, putting a distance between us. He tries to push me away, but I insist. Richard intervenes, interrupting  his agent to let me speak, staring at me from head to toe, which makes me even more self-conscious of what I look like. I’m mortified but gathering my courage, I quickly explained my situation, begging for a few minutes of his time. Something in my words or my attitude makes him took pity of me because he accepts my offer, much to the chagrin of his agent. I ask him how long he can give me. 15 minutes. If he gives me 10 more, I take him to a pub next door to be out of the Hobbit madness . A pint of beer is an excellent argument because once again he agrees. Follows an idle chatter on the way.

The Charles Dickens pub

I keep for myself the questions I’d ask him  because they change depending on my mood – and they’re too dear to me. The interview goes well, I’m professional, I don’t fangirl, which might embarrass him, and I even managed to gain his trust despite a difficult start. I’m especially interested in him, I try to capture him in the time allotted to me. Some questions are very specific  other completely anecdotic. He’s sometimes elusive, but he avoids no questions. I’d be lying if I said I don’t flirt a little with him, but it’s not what this whole fantasy is about. Mr A isn’t famous in France, not yet, so we aren’t disturbed in the pub or on the way.

Once the interview ended, I pay for our consomations and accompanies him to his hotel. On the way, an idle chatter again. I ask him if he had time to visit Bordeaux since his arrival. No, their schedule is too tight so they have no time for sightseeing, to his chagrin. I stop and stare at him. Without even thinking, I suggest, if he wishes to and if he has time, to give him a tour of my city. Polite, he smiles and replies that he’d love to but can’t. I interrupt him by saying that it’s okay, I understand. He laughs again and goes on, saying that if I want him to, he can join me once his obligations fulfilled. A stupid grin on my face, I scribbles my number on a piece of paper and hands him before I leave.

Parking Victor Hugo

Does he call me ? Yes. Do I give him a tour of my beloved Bordeaux ? Yes. Another pub that I love (  beer+me = the perfect equation), a wine bar whose main room is built around a huge fake real-looking tree, a parking with a car giving the impression of to be about falling into the void, the narrow streets and crooked places crawling with restaurants and nightlife, a huge square with a massive fountain, the ruins of a Roman arena, the quays of the Garonne and « Le miroir d’eau » for a final evening walk. It’s adorable, funny, moving. In one word,  perfect. Does he kiss me or more ? No. I touch his hands, his face, he does the same. Nothing more, nothing less. But there is this connection, just this once, just once, for one evening. And that’s all.

This fantasy is deeply rooted in reality. I’m not nice with myself, on the contrary, I’m in trouble (rain, tram going down). I try to take an exacerbated femininity that isn’t mine (the shoes). As a child I wanted to be a writer. Growing up, I told myself  journalist would be a good financial alternative. Adoring film critic, it’s a job I’ve considered for long. In the end, I took a different path but it’s something I could have done. As in my real life, I’ve just started my job and I suffers from pressure from my boss. I see Richard as a case study I want to dissect and solve his mystery. I take him to a place where I feel comfortable, I control the setting if not the effect he has on me. A pint of beer always helps ! What I want is to see the world through his eyes and let him see the world through mine, hence the proposition to visit my town.

Le Palais Gallien, ruins of a roman arena

aside

I’ve always have this fascination with what happens in people’s head. We all have a different way of seeing, feeling and thinking, and I find it extraordinary.The differences are further exacerbated between two people from different cultures and languages. The language we speak and the words we have shape our thoughts, so I’m often frustrated when I speak/write in English, because words fail me and therefore my thoughts are not as precise as I’d like. I always have in mind this example of Inuit languages with about thirty words for « snow ». Thus an Inuit succeed to think and express nuances that I would be unable to seize, as French.

End of aside.

By paying the bill and proposing to give him a tour, keep control while remaining independent. I take the lead, leaving him my number, but doesn’t ask for his because he has to come to me. If he wants to see me, let him come. I’m definitely proud. But by leaving the choice to call me or not, I leave an opening that prevents me to suffer the full brunt of rejection. My insecurities. In real life, I’m in a relationship, but not in my fantasy. However, nothing happens between me and Mr A. Not because unconsciously I refuse to « cheat » on le BF, but because it’s not what I want. I’m looking for this connection, the communion between two minds, just once, just one night. Nothing more, nothing less. Therefore an autographed photo will never satisfy me😉

Le miroir d'eau

Suite à l’excellent article publié par Servetus, j’ai légèrement retardé la publication de celui-ci parce que j’éprouvais le besoin de développer certains points de ma réflexion. Ce que j’ai trouvé particulièrement intéressant dans son article, c’est le fait qu’elle conjure différents personnages incarnés par RA dans ses fantasmes. RA en tant que lui-même, ou du moins tel qu’elle le perçoit, n’est intervenu que plus tard, quand elle s’est autorisé à fantasmer sur lui. Personnellement, je n’ai jamais fantasmé sur un personnage, jamais. Je comprend l’attrait qu’ils peuvent avoir pour certaines, mais pas pour moi. Seul Richard en tant que lui-même joue dans mes fantasmes, car comme je l’ai dit durant le 30 day Richard Armitage challenge, mon personnage préféré de lui est son personnage public, c’est donc logique qu’il soit le héros de mes scénarios.  Pourquoi devrais-je être gênée d’avouer cela ? La vision que j’ai de Richard est aussi fictive que celle que j’ai de Guy ou Lucas, je ne vois donc aucune raison de policer mes propos. 

Après mes rêves d’enfant, celui qui me fait tenir lorsque le boulot m’épuise ou que j’ai une friction dans mon couple est RA. Je n’ai que 2 fantasme à son sujet, et seul le plus récent (et le plus puissant) m’intéresse ici. Il ne s’agit en rien d’un écrit, j’essaye de résumer simplement le scénario avec lequel je joue donc ne vous attendez pas à une œuvre d’art !🙂

Journaliste pour un magazine, je suis en route pour la conférence de presse du Hobbit lors de la tournée promotionnelle du film à Bordeaux  (même si c’est une grande ville française, c’est loin d’être suffisant pour attirer le Hobbit mais c’est un fantasme🙂 ). J’enchaîne galère sur galère, le tramway dans lequel je suis tombe en panne et je suis obligée de finir le chemin à pieds. Il se met à pleuvoir et mes chaussures me font mal. J’ai voulu faire ma fille et porter des talons, à présent je le regrette. J’ai toujours une paire de chaussures plates dans mon sac, j’en change donc, gardant les autres à la main, et poursuis ma route. Je finis par arriver à l’hôtel, trempée et fourbue, pour me rendre compte que j’ai raté la conférence.

Dépitée, je m’apprête à sortir de l’hôtel, réfléchissant aux futures réprimandes de mon patron, lorsque j’aperçois au loin 2 hommes sortant du bar. Je sais que c’est lui. Il est de dos, accompagné de son publiciste, mais je le reconnaîtrais entre mille. Je sais que je ne ressemble à rien, mes cheveux dégoulinant, mon mascara ayant sans doute coulé, mes chaussures à la main, mais je ne peux pas rater cette occasion. Je m’approche et l’aborde mais son agent se tient devant lui, mettant une distance entre nous. Ce dernier essaye de me repousser, mais j’insiste. Richard intervient, coupant son agent pour me laisser parler, me dévisageant des pieds à la tête, ce qui me fait encore plus prendre conscience de l’état dans lequel je suis. Je suis mortifiée mais prenant mon courage à 2 mains, j’explique rapidement ma situation et implorant quelques minutes de son temps. Quelque chose dans mes mots ou mon attitude lui font pitié car il accepte, au grand dam de son agent. Je lui demande combien de temps il peut m’accorder. 15 minutes. S’il m’accorde 10 minutes de plus, je l’emmène dans un pub juste à côté pour réaliser l’interview tranquillement. La bière est un excellent argument puisqu’encore une fois il accepte. S’ensuit un bavardage futile sur le trajet. 

Je garde les questions que je lui poserais pour moi car j’y tiens particulièrement et qu’elles changent selon mon humeur. L’entrevue, se passe bien, je suis professionnelle, je n’ai rien d’une fangirl ce qui pourrait le gêner, et je réussis même à le mettre en confiance malgré des débuts difficile. Surtout je m’intéresse à lui, j’essaye de capter qui il est dans le temps qui m’est imparti. Certaines questions sont très précises d’autres complètement anecdoctiques. Il est parfois élusif, mais il n’évite aucunes questions. Je mentirais si je disais que je ne flirte pas un tout petit peu avec lui, mais ce n’est vraiment pas le but. Il n’est pas connu en France, pas encore, nous ne sommes donc pas dérangés dans le pub ni sur la route .

Une fois l’entretien terminé, je paye pour nos consomations et le raccompagne à son hôtel. Sur le trajet, un bavardage futile encore une fois. Je lui demande s’il a eu le temps de visiter Bordeaux depuis son arrivée. Non, leur emploi du temps est trop serré pour qu’ils aient le temps de faire du tourisme, à son grand dam. Je m’arrête et l’observe. Sans même y réfléchir, je lui propose, s’il le souhaite et s’il a le temps, de lui faire découvrir ma ville. Poli, il sourit et me répond qu’il adorerait mais qu’il ne peut pas. Je l’interromps en lui disant que ce n’est pas grave, que je comprends. Il éclate de rire et reprend que si je le souhaite il peut me rejoindre une fois ses obligations remplies. Un sourire stupide sur le visage, je lui griffonne mon numéro sur un bout de papier et lui tend avant de m’éloigner.

Me rappelle-t-il ? Oui. Lui fais-je découvrir Bordeaux ? Oui. Un autre pub que j’adore (la bière et moi, une grande histoire d’amour), un bar à vins dont la salle principale s’articule autour d’un arbre immense, un parking dont une voiture donne l’impression d’être sur le point de tomber dans le vide, les petites rues et places biscornues grouillant de restaurant et de vie nocturne, une place immense et sa fontaine massive, les ruines d’une arène romaine, les quais de la garonne et son miroir d’eau pour une dernière promenade nocturne. C’est adorable, drôle, émouvant, c’est parfait. Est-ce qu’il m’embrasse ou plus ? Non. Je touche ses mains, son visage, il fait de même. Rien de plus. Mais il y a cette connexion, juste cette fois, juste une fois, pour un soir. Et c’est tout.

Ce fantasme est ancré dans le réel. Je ne me mets pas en valeur, au contraire, je suis en difficulté (la pluie, la panne de tramway). J’essaye d’assumer une féminité exacerbé qui n’est pas la mienne (les chaussures) mais ce n’est pas moi. Enfant je voulais être écrivain. En grandissant, je me suis dis que journaliste  serait une bonne alternative financière. Adorant le cinéma, critique est un métier qui m’a longtemps plu. J’ai finalement pris une autre voie mais c’est quelque chose que j’aurais pu faire. Comme dans ma vie réelle, je débute dans mon métier et je subis la pression de mon patron. Je vois Ra comme un cas d’étude que je voudrais décortiquer et dont je souhaite percer le mystère. Je l’emmène dans un lieu où je suis à l’aise, je contrôle le cadre à défaut de contrôler l’effet qu’il me fait. Une pinte de bière aide toujours ! Ce que je souhaite, c’est voir le monde à travers ses yeux puis lui faire voir le monde à travers les miens, d’où la proposition de visiter ma ville.

Aparté

Depuis toujours j’ai cette fascination pour ce qu’il se passe dans la tête dans les gens. Nous avons tous une façon différente de voir, sentir et penser, et je trouve cela extraordinaire. Les différences sont encore plus exacerbées entre deux personnes de cultures et de langues différentes. La langue que nous parlons et les mots que nous possédons forment notre pensée, c’est pourquoi je suis souvent frustrée quand je m’exprime en anglais car les mots me manquent et par conséquent mes pensées ne sont pas aussi précises que je le souhaiterais. J’ai toujours cet exemple en tête des langues inuit possédant une trentaine de mots pour dire « neige ». Un inuit parviendra donc à penser et exprimer des nuances que je serais incapable, en tant que française, de saisir.

Fin de l’aparté.

En payant l’addition tout comme en faisant ma proposition de visite, c’est moi qui garde le contrôle tout en restant indépendante. Je prend les devants, lui laissant mon numéro, mais ne prend pas le sien car c’est à lui de venir à moi. S’il veut me voir, qu’il vienne. Je suis définitivement quelqu’un de fier. Mais en lui laissant le choix de me rappeler ou non, je laisse une ouverture qui m’empêche de subir un rejet de plein fouet. Mes insécurités. Dans la vie, je suis en couple, mais je ne le suis pas dans mon fantasme. Pour autant, il ne se passe rien entre Mr A et moi. Pas parce qu’inconsciemment je refuse de « tromper » le BF, mais parce que ce n’est pas ce que je recherche. Je recherche cette connexion, cette communion entre deux esprits, juste une fois, juste une nuit. Rien de plus, rien de moins. C’est pourquoi une photo autographiée ne risque pas de me satisfaire😉

  1. This is really beautiful and made me sigh and made me jealous!🙂 (just kidding — or maybe a little. I’d love to live in Bordeaux).

    I find interesting the control issues here — that’s something you and I share, I think. I also feel like fantasy encounters with him as himself are often about control or lack of it in various aspects of my life. A primary instance of being out of control being the impulse to do all this writing about him all of the time, of course.

    I also find striking the detail of him seeing you at your worse, after you’ve attempted to be your most feminine, which you acknowledge rationally is something you don’t do or might be a mistake. There’s similarly a level in my own fantasies that is about acceptance: Richard Armitage is the person who can accept all the nastiest parts of me, who won’t cringe when he becomes aware of all of my failings. This pattern is also reflected in a slightly different way in a lot of fanfic, which has Armitage characters falling in love with women who describe themselves in the fanfic as less than desirable, but the Armitage character doesn’t notice it or even finds the least desirable piece of them the most desirable.

    The fantasy of that perfect meeting of the minds is so seductive — I find in real life we have relationships with all kinds of people who don’t meet that standard or even people with whom we occasionally have that experience are not like that every second. This is actually not a fantasy I have about Armitage, but I completely understand its attractions.

    I hope we’ll be able to keep talking about this. My initial main « real Armitage » fantasy was that I was seated next to him on a plane from Chicago to London and didn’t talk to him the whole time.

    • Truth is that there was a subliminal message in my article from the tourist office of Bordeaux:) I’m lucky to live in a very pleasant city and it was an opportunity to share it here.

      I think more than control issues – which I have too , believe me -, I take initiatives. I’ll always prefer to do something rather than not, which is why I dare to behave like that with him. I want to challenge him as he challenges me and I feel he’s the kind of man who’d love that. I think that’s what we’re all longing to, be accepted as we are, be loved for our qualities but especially for our flaws. I completely understand the appeal this fantasy can have.

      Perfect meeting of the minds, I love how you’ve put it🙂. I’m realistic enough to realize this perfect meeting of the minds is transient, that’s why my fantasy lasts only one night I guess. It wouldn’t survive to reality and everyday life.

      My first RA fantasy took place on a plane too🙂 Why didn’t you talk to him ? Didn’t you recognize him ? (I didn’t at first) Were you too shy ? I’ve a hard time picturing you like a shy woman !

      • Oh, no, I recognized him! I decided that it would be terrible for him to be trapped in close quarters for eight hours with someone he knew was a fan next to him, but that I wouldn’t be able to lie to him if I started speaking, so the best solution was simply to pretend he wasn’t there and keep contact to a minimum.

        I’m not shy, but I am an introvert.

      • What does it tell about you that, even in your fantasy, you’re so considerate of his well-being by not being an intrusive fan ? It also shows how important it is for you to be honest and true to yourself (therefore to him), because you prefer to miss an opportunity to talk to him rather than lie to him, in order to preserve his tranquility🙂

    • Hi Servetus, I love this fantasy! Although I’d at least be curious to know what RA was doing in Chicago? Perhaps taking a photo of himself by the ‘Armitage’ El station sign? 😉

      I usually fly British Airways between the US & London, and for whatever demented reason, BA reverses its seats in the business class section so that you are FORCED to stare right at the person who is next to you (it is very close proximity)!!! There is a privacy guard that brings a frosted glass screen up mid flight, but usually for the first hour I’d say, it’s a study in how to be inside another person’s visual space zone – while giving them privacy. It’s taken a few years, but I believe I’ve finally perfected the pre-flight napping angle which perfectly takes me out of my seat neighbor’s visual line of view. 🙂

      I am definitely not a shy person, but there’s something about being in such enforced close proximity to a stranger that declares a need for aggressive evasive action on my part.

      • I think he was changing planes. It was ORD because that’s the airport I usually fly out of to go to Europe. I mean, it was silly. I always fly discounted economy / student fares, and I’m sure he flies business or first.

        The BA business class sounds like trains in a lot of Europe. There’s been some interesting historical research on that — how people perceived being seated facing each other and the whole question of being seated against the direction of motion.

      • Ahh, bummer! You’ve just killed the dream that he was in Chicago long enough to take a picture of himself by the ‘Armitage’ sign for me! 😉

        I love this fantasy!! It reminds me of a story author Anne McCaffrey once told of being on a flight, whereby when she finally looked over at the person seated next to her, she saw that he was an extremely distinguished looking gentleman and he was also reading her latest book. Uncharacteristically, she decided to chat him up to see what he did (I think he was an Opera director), then she asked him what he thought of the book he was reading. She was surprised to hear him say that he had read all of the author’s books and was a particular fan of her writing. Funny that he didn’t know what she looked like. She may have had him look at the back cover to identify herself as the author. So I guess it’s like an inverse version of your fantasy! 🙂

        Maybe you can be sketching out notes on Richard III and then he would be FORCED to ask YOU what you were doing?😉 And we’ll put you in Business Class because you’ve been brought on to be historical consultant for a film, and the production company has paid for your travels. Easy. That’s my creative augmentation of your fantasy. 🙂

        I am very curious to hear about these studies on the alternating seating! It doesn’t really matter much on a plane because it’s just take-off and landing where you feel the reverse inertia. But I do find it weird to be staring right into my neighbor’s face. Sitting next to a person, everyone can keep their eyes forward. With the alternating seating, it just feels like a violation of personal visual space for me. What, exactly, was the logic to begin with? I’ve only seen it on the British Airways planes, and even then – only in Business.

        For me, I’ve flown every class available (first, business, premium economy, economy) and maybe it’s because I’m so travel weary, but they all seem similar to me at this point. I’m also a good foot shorter than RA. At his height, I would really HOPE he’s flying Business on his flights.

      • IIRC, the seminal book in the field was Wolfgang Schivelbusch, The Railway Journey (I read this for my doctoral exams, so it’s been awhile, but I remember just loving it). It assessed how Europeans’ perceptions of space changed after the introduction of the railway. One issue was the carriage seating arrangements. Passengers initially wanted to be seated face to face, as they would have been in post coaches.

  2. I loved this fantasy. I super enjoyed the fact that despite the difficult circumstances, you perservered. I liked your courage and strength to approach him even though you may not have been looking your « best » and that you gave him your number even though there was a possibility that he would not call. You talked about control, and you did really control your actions when when you handed your number to him. ANd this is what I really liked. You were confident in yourself and as I interpreted said, even though you are here and I can ask for YOUR number, you should be coming to me if you are really interested in my proposal. You did not over control, you control with confidence and dignity.

    The time you spent together sightseeing was really a coming together of two individuals rather than romantic interests and ultimately in my opinion, the beginning of a beautiful relationship with the potential to have romance in it as well. Wow.

    • I’m pretty tenacious and stubborn, so no wonder it’s shown through my fantasies🙂 I think we are responsible for our lives, our choices, we can’t remain passive, we must act, take charge, dare. It’s sometimes frowned upon for women to take the lead, but I believe we’ve waited long enough for Prince Charming😀

      You’ve made a fairly accurate analysis. As you’ve said, even if I control the meeting, I’m not forcing myself on him. But even if the prospect of relationship is a lovely thought, to me this fantasy is over all a platonic one-night stand🙂

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