Even in my Dreams, Women Deride Me

Activity on the female front has been minimal as of late.

By minimal, of course, I am mean nonexistence. A man can rationalize, can't he?

Even my dreams play out like a formulaic sitcom flirtation.

As with all dreams, we’ll begin in medias res, attending some conference of international diplomats for some unknown reason. Why they would pick Nashville, I have no idea. The Nashville of my dreams had a more stately, European vibe evident nowhere in the real Music City, so that might have played a role.

As a reporter covering the events - or a functionary with some other role, I never ironed that out - I ended up in conversation with a Swedish diplomat's assistant, and amazingly, we hit it off, then decided to ditch the diplomats and tour the city.

So the diplomat’s assistant and I took off in a sedan. I quickly discovered she was in demand, as our tour route involved evading her comrades. On our search for a coffeehouse to depart from from frantic pace, her cohorts, left behind at the conference swarmed to find her.

This was an imaginary Nashville – first, the weather was comfortable, a rarity in Music City. In a fifty-degree afternoon with a slight breeze, we strode along a riverfront promenade, beneath old cobblestone bridges and swapped life stories. She told me of growing up in a suburb of Gothenburg and her service in America, all the while omitting the identity of her pursuers - namely, her boyfriend.

We approached a checkpoint made essential by all those foreign attache types wandering the brick streets. Past it, we crossed a busy city square/urban park where a man with wild brown eyes cordoned us away from everyone passing.

The boyfriend had arrived, and he swiftly turned his cross gaze to her.

As she went to explain the situation, I shook my head and calmly told her I was who he was. He began his rant in earnest, but not before condescending telling me to have a seat on the curb opposite where we stood.

The blow was that he was utterly unconcerned with me. He waved me away as he would a servant or an out-of-favor employee.

Apparently, I was just a prop, an engine for driving jealousy in her boyfriend.

Apparently, even in my dreams, I can't catch a break.