It’s been over three years since I dropped an L-bomb. I don’t know if that’s a long time or not – and how does one measure that anyway? – but that’s how long it’s been. And in all my years, I’ve only said that word to three men. The operative word being “said.”

I’ve loved parts of every guy I’ve dated. That’s not saying I’ve been “in love” with all of them, but if you’d asked me at the time, I’d have sworn I was in full-fledged love. The more complex and quirky the man, the more likely I am to love little parts of him. But in truth, I’ve mostly been in Fantasy Love.

Fantasy Love is divorced from reality. It’s an alternate universe, like love’s Twilight Zone. It feels a lot like being in love if your life was a movie. It starts with that feet-swept feeling. Your heart’s aflutter. Your head is full of all kinds of dreamy visions. You think about the vacations you’ll take together, the trysts, the exhilaration you’ll feel the next time you hear his voice or see his face. Fantasy love is a whirlwind. It hooks you like a drug. It’s a black widow and it’ll break your heart worse than any lover you could ever imagine.

Here’s the kicker. When you’re in Fantasy Love, you’re the breaker of your own heart. The other person isn’t really involved with any of the emotions you are feeling. They aren’t part of the love-creation you’re feeding. To be “in love” with someone it really does take two people who share the same reality.

It’s taken me years to learn this and I’ve had to re-live the same lesson over and over. These days, I’m craving something more real. I’m not looking for someone to sweep me off my feet (which is like saying you want someone to come along and knock you off your game). Nope. These days I fantasize about a guy who walks alongside me and it feels comfortable and familiar…like I’m meeting with a friend I’ve been waiting for all along.