Fantasy vs Reality

To a lot of women and some men, firemen are considered hot. They're fit and they risk their lives to save people, pets and property. Physical attractiveness, danger and service for good... what's not to like?





With that in mind, one of my silly fantasies has always been being rescued from a burning building by a gorgeous fireman. I'm a bit embarrassed for being so cliched. ;-)


Fantasy:
I'm looking particularly gorgeous one evening as I'm at home, painting a masterpiece. I smell wood burning, mmmmm... hickory.

"Oh! 'Tis a wee fire!"

I go to my window and a firetruck pulls up and unloads a crew:




Reality:
I wake up out of a deep sleep to the sounds of a muffled alarm (hard of hearing, me) and not until starting to smell smoke and hearing pounding on my door does it register in my sleepy, deaf head that this might be not be a false alarm.

I have morning face, bad breath and greasy bed hair. I leave my flat wearing running shoes, jeans, my PJs top and a jacket. The smoke in the corridor smells disgusting and I run to the stairwell.

(photo unavailable!)


Fantasy:




Reality:
At the emergency exit, I meet five or six elderly folks trying to get down a flight of steps. I proceed to help each of them down and across a swampy path away from the building. One lady has no shoes on, some still in their jammies. It's very cold out. Everyone is a bit freaked out.


Fantasy:
I am brought down to the ground and given mouth-to-mouth... ya know, just in case. ;-)




Reality:
I see firemen putting up a ladder. They're rescuing a Princess. A cat called Princess. Awwwww.... still, I'm a bit pissed off, cos that cat should have been me. ;-)





Fantasy:
Mr Fireman and I have a romantic meal and an evening of wild sex. :-)



For the wild sex video, please send me your credit card details.


Reality:
The fire was so hard to put out, they had pizza and coffee delivered. Yep, it took that long.




I'm now a 'displaced person' - I left with what I was wearing, my meds, my laptop and my mittens. Now living in a hotel until I can have access to my flat, which might be a week or months, depending upon asbestos contamination tests.

It's all very romantic. :-/


Fantasy:
The fireman is there purely for my selfish pleasure.


Reality:
They work their fucking asses off.




While I've always appreciated fire-fighters, watching them for a few hours gave me a much more profound appreciation for the very real risks that they take.





... and will take willingly, even to save a wee Princess.





Fantasy:
I don't consider anyone but myself.


Reality:
There are about 100 people, many of them in the 80s and 90s, now 'homeless.' I'm ok. I'm 'young' and healthy - I can adapt. Many of my neighbours are not young and/or healthy and/or have life circumstances that are stressful enough as it is. They don't need this shit.

While fantasy nibbles my earlobes, reality bites. Sometimes very hard.

And now I'm afraid to fantasize about anything.