Craig* was everything that I wanted in a lover. To the romantic in me, he was the Lancelot to my Guinevere. The Tristan to my Isolde. The Mr Darcy to my Elizabeth Bennet.
He was intelligent, funny, older, handsome, with these amazing deep brown eyes, a knee-jerking smile that never failed to make me grin until my cheeks hurt and above all he shared my infatuation with the written word.
He was also a writer and an incredibly talented one at that. As both a writer and a man, I found him interesting, creative, complex and a bit of a bold rebel who frequently took risks in his writing for the sake of pure principal and satire. Seeing as I have a huge thing for writers, this made him even sexier in my eyes.
Of course, I wanted him. I wanted him more than I had wanted any man. I fell for him and I fell for him hard.
However, there is never going to be a happily ever after for me and him.
You see, Craig is real. ‘Our relationship’ however, was a fantasy I concocted in my head.
I had only communicated with him on the internet and in person a few times. Nevertheless, I found myself instantly attracted to him, even though I knew nothing about him as a person. I slowly began fantasising about having a romantic relationship with him. The kind of relationship that never materialises in real life, but is conceptulised in great detail in your mind. It’s like a crush, but one you don’t act on.