Or where the former would fantasize, but in vain, scenes of wild sex with himself at the epicentre, the latter would imagine, but pointlessly, sceneries for his main protagonist.
There had been no time for me to fantasize about what it could be like between us if things were different, but this is what I would have dreamed up.
The sure thing was that they would match, maybe even surpass, his joy to finally receive a message, as well as the anticipation to open it, read it all in one go, click on his profile, examine it inside it out, stare at his photos again and again, enlarge them, imagine him, fantasize over him, and read, psychoanalysing and deconstructing the text that complemented it all.
I liked to fantasize about going on exciting missions, deep undercover.
