All Comments on 'My Day With Gillian Anderson'

Let me preface my comment by saying that I'm a big Gillian Anderson fan as well. Not that I sit around fantasizing about her like this, but let's just say that nine years of frustrating X-Files circumlocutions would have been a lot more difficult to ignore were it not for Agent Scully's beauty and brains.

However, if the idea of your story was to plausibly depict how an average twenty-one year old guy would end up in the romp of a lifetime with his fantasy woman, you failed to deliver the goods.

Not that such a depiction would be easy in any case. Having, for example, Ms. Anderson simply throw herself at Michael would have been quasi-misogynistic and run the risk of triggering your readers' uncontrollable giggling. But that angle would at least have brought into play possible motivations on her part that might have been sufficiently believable to ease the reader's suspension of disbelief.

Say, that she had recently found out that her husband had been cheating on her, and she was getting a "revenge fuck"; or that she had been feeling lonely and depressed and the car accident, and Michael being uninjured and so nice to her, brought about an impulsive need for emotional companionship that "got a little out of hand." Even, "Duchovny and I wanted a foursome tonight and he's already contracted a hooker" would have worked, given that the story *was* set in Vancouver.

But come on - Gillian goes upstairs to "slip into something more comfortable" and Michael becomes a bumbling peeping tom? Why would he do that? Even the most naive, virginal "shy guy" would recognize the sexual chemistry that was already developing (as evinced by Ms. Anderson removing her bra) and wait with a gut full of butterflies until she returned to the kitchen. What he *wouldn't* do is follow her upstairs and furtively feel her up with his eyes.

And what *she* wouldn't do is get turned on by it; I mean, I don't know Ms. Anderson, so I can't say this authoritatively, but in that setting, if a woman was feeling turned on, I can't imagine anything that would kill that desire faster than her prospective lover turning into a dime-store perv. It'd give her the creeps, and she'd toss him out on his ass - and (remember the automobile collision?) probably sue him after all for good measure.

You built a bridge to "the promised land," but it collapsed in mid-transit.

Better luck next time.