"The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence." That's normally the phrase we parrot if we feel something is being taken for granted. As if to say, "You should be more appreciative for what you already have." But what if the grass really IS greener on the other side?
Case-in-point: Both of my neighbors have healthy, vibrant, luscious, grass-green grass. The kind of lawn that makes you want take your shoes off, frolic for a while, and then grab a pillow and snuggle in it. It's perfect. I could probably eat it and forgo my normal vitamins and fiber cereal. But, I digress.
My grass, on-the-other-hand, is Bermuda. It dies in the winter and seems to take control of EVERYTHING.
I fantasize about my neighbor's yard [sigh]. I say "fantasy" because people tend to tune out if the word "lust" enters the picture—as in, "that's not me." But what is fantasy if not lust with a lingering.
I also dream about having another bathroom so I don't have to hold it in (which is every time my wife and I come home together and she beats me to the door). I often imagine having a car with a posh bev holder and gadget that I don't even know what it does—that's how cool it is. And, I wonder what it would be like to be married to someone who was amorous towards me all the time--like the girl in the beer commercial who is into a dude just for drinking bear! [awkward pause]. Then life would be good, wouldn't it?
Every fantasy comes with a question, and every question a promise. "The Myth of the Final Solution" as it's often been called. I.e., if I get ____________, then ___________ will happen. Typically, this seemingly infallible idea begins in the infatuation stage of a relationship. E.g., s/he will take away my loneliness and I'll be happy once-and-for-all. Everyone married knows this is a fallacy, and yet somehow, the mirage perpetuates itself like a mutant virus.
Within a year or two of marriage, fantasy becomes again a subtle sanctuary--an escape from mere mortal life. "If I was married to so-n-so, then..." And we flirt with fantasmic thought, which is inviting.
Augustine noted as much in his autobiography, Confessions. When describing his conversion process, he personifies temptation, which hauntingly calls out to him (in a manner of words), "You will never get to have me again if you leave me." And such is the siren that sings to each of us. And to each response is a consequence.
The apostle James describes it like this: "Temptation comes from our own desires, which entice us and drag us away." And eventually ensnared as the author of Hebrews paints it. Mind you, it doesn't have to be with an actual person. Many a marriage have diminished over pixels, whether from a screen, magazine, or book cover. Why? Because the motivating factor of fantasy is comparison, and no real person can compete with something 'flawless'.
When I first moved into my house, I was ecstatic with the idea of even having a yard of my own. I nourished it, toiled over it, and enjoyed it.
A friend of mine says that "the grass is always greener where you water it." Yes, and pull weeds, adjust sprinkler heads, mow, and fertilize.
I love my yard and consider it a gift. That's why I spent part of my Saturday caring for it. Maybe you should too...
Questions for reflection:
- Assess your own fantasy life:
out-of-control ------------------ OK ------------------ never better
- What are some strategies you've employed to combat the comparison of fantasy?
- Have you had a 'real' conversation with your significant other about each other's fantasy life? If not, what are you most afraid of?
- What is at the root of your fantasies? I.e., what is it you really want?
Feel free to comment with any other thoughts you have.
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