I Dreamt I Was Dating Jennifer Aniston
A Guy’s Look at Love & Romance
Have you ever had one of those dreams that are so real, when you wake up you have to do a reality check? This wasn’t one of those.
When I woke up, I knew it wasn’t reality, for reasons that will become clear. But I sure wanted it to be real.
I’ve never met Jennifer Aniston, I’ve never seen one of her movies, and while most of the world including myself saw her on Friends, I didn’t particularly like the show. I did see her on Jay Leno a few weeks ago for a few minutes, and she certainly looked great. I didn’t find myself riveted to the TV, and there’s absolutely no logical reason I can think of that I would even meet her, much less date her. Like most men on planet Earth, I think she’s drop-dead gorgeous. But that’s hardly enough to spark a dream, or I’d be dreaming similar dreams every night with a cast of hundreds to fit the bill.
In my dream, she had a definite personality. Odds are the Jennifer in my dreams has absolutely no similarity to the real-life version, other than they looked alike.
What’s significant about my dream is it got me believing in love and romance again. Which is a pretty tall order, let me tell you.
After 7 years of marriage, I got divorced. It was not fun.
I’ve tried dating after the divorce, but it hasn’t worked out. I dated a few women, but somehow it just wasn’t right. No complaints about them, it just didn’t, well, fit.
I never gave up on love, I just forgot what it was. Several years of being single, burying myself in work and school and kids, and that part of my life had faded from view.
Then I dreamt about Jennifer.
I think I should call her Jenny, just so there’s no confusion with the real one.
In my dream, Jenny and I had been dating and were planning on moving in together. We were talking about how to arrange our stuff. I liked to be neat, she liked to be a little messy. Not dirty, definitely clean, but liked to leave papers and purses and stuff lying around the house. Me, I liked to be meticulously neat. In the dream, that is. (I’m mostly neat in real life, but I do like to leave a few things lying around and I’m not anal retentive about being neat like I was in the dream.)
We were planning on how we were going to move in together, how we were going to arrange our possessions, how we were going to handle those little details that comprise a relationship. The personal intimacy with someone was a feeling that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
We were going somewhere for dinner, and we had to walk through a crowd of people. We held hands the whole way, and had to navigate through all these groups of people who noticed that Jenny was holding hands with a guy. “Who’s that?” I could feel them asking, seeing me, nobody famous, with this gorgeous and famous actress. Who is that guy? Why is she with HIM?
Through all this, Jenny continued to hold my hand. I continued to hold hers. Despite all the obvious opinions of others, despite wending our way through crowds of people, some pushing, some respectful, some resentful of me being with her. We weren’t holding hands out of any strain, but because we were together.
Together. What a concept!
We were a team. Two people, blended together into one team, partners in life, partners facing the trials and tribulations of whatever life threw at us, whether it was figuring out how to organize our furniture and personal belongings in the same house, whether it was navigating a crowd of people, we were in it together.
Not once in my dream did we ever kiss. Not once did I see her in her intimates, much less in the buff. Yet this was the most romantic dream I’ve ever had, one of the most romantic feelings I’ve ever experienced. I remembered, after how many years, what it was like to be truly together with someone.
Oh, there was definitely a wow factor when I woke up, “Jennifer Aniston!” She is, after all, drop-dead gorgeous and from what I can tell, a pretty nice gal. I’ve got about as much chance of dating her as I have of being elected president. Well, okay, there’s a micro-miniscule chance I could date her while there’s zero chance I’ll ever become president, but I’m not betting any money in Vegas on it.
I’m a software guy, a mechanical engineer by training and trade, now working on anti-virus software. While a good career, it’s not something they write books or make movies about. No reality shows, either. I make a decent income and my prospects are good, even though the divorce and the real estate crash wiped out what was a pretty nice nest egg.
So forget it, I’m not going to be dating J.A. I would cringe at the dinner bill at the restaurants she’s used to frequenting, and my nicely-used BMW is not the type of ride I would pick up a movie star or supermodel in.
But that feeling of being together with someone, that was the real treasure. Sure, the coolness of dating a famous, beautiful actress definitely made me smile, but what I really grabbed hold of was that feeling of being together. It’s been a long time since I felt that way. How do I find someone who I can share my life, and share her life with?
I remembered what it was like to be with someone. There’s dating—and then there’s being with someone. When you’re together, you’re together. Two hearts beating as one, two minds sharing as one, two people living as one. I remember now.
I guess that makes me a guy who believes there’s more to a relationship than going to dinner or the mating “dance” at a party or a wild soiree between the sheets. It’s not the conquest that’s important, it’s the journey together, the ongoing adventure without interruption.
Now THAT is a dream worth believing in. If I can find that again, I’ll be a lucky man indeed.
I know she’s out there somewhere. That special woman, that special connection, someone to share my heart and soul with.
Thanks, Jennifer Aniston, for being in this dream. You certainly made it a dream to remember, and because it was you it helped bring the message home.
Now on the outside chance you’ve ever been inclined to go out to dinner with someone who’s just a normal guy, I would be honored…
©2012 Curt Larson