The Fantasy Is Always Better

he was always thinking of the other woman, not his wife. he was mesmerized by her eyes, the tint of her lips, the smell of her hair, the way she swayed when she walked. he lived in the illusion she could be real. but in reality if she were real he would perhaps date her, maybe even marry her. and as the years pass by, he would begin thinking of her as the nagging bitch, the bossy wife. she would grow old and her looks would fade, her health would deteriorate. and in his distant memory of the young, beautiful girl lived a far better fantasy than in his real life.