I had a sex dream about Paul Rudd.
While I was in Florida, I read three romance novels: Natural Born Charmer and Nobody's Baby But Mine by Susan Elizabeth Phillips, and A Little Night Magic by Lucy March. Actually, Lucy's might be more of a paranormal romance-I get confused by all the sub-genres-but the central love story is the glue that holds it all together. When I wasn't reading romance, I was writing it, so I had love and sex on my brain.
Paul Rudd was the lucky recipient of all that yearning. I think that's hysterical. The main characters in SEP's novels are football players with piercing eyes and chiseled bodies, yet my brain chose an average-looking, nice Jewish boy from Jersey for some hanky-panky. Let me add that Zachary Levi was also, inexplicably, in my dream. There was no three-way. At least not with me. I don't know what Paul and Zach did on their own after I left.
There was also no real sex. Just a little kissing. This could be because I don't actually know what Paul Rudd's body looks like. Why couldn't I have thought about Ryan Gosling before I went to sleep? I'd have had no problem conjuring up those abs before I drizzled them with chocolate syrup and whipped cream. Yum. Unfortunately, I think Paul may be hairy, which could be why my brain derailed the ab-licking plan.
I'm fairly certain humor is the reason Mr. Rudd was at the receiving end of my lip lock. He's very, very funny, in a completely endearing way. He's completely non-threatening, which is probably why we remained fully clothed. He's not the ravaging type. Plus, I know he's married.
Basically, I made out with my husband in my dream.
When the boys ask why the Captain and I started to date, I always tell them it was because he made me laugh. He never says anything, because his truthful answer is that I looked kind of wild, so he thought I'd be easy. But we're still together because it's fun.
It is both strange and satisfying to be with someone for so long. I can't believe we're this old, because most days I still feel like the twenty year-old who met him in the stinky, beer-soaked basement of the frat house. Minus the booze and the cigarettes. And apparently, our years together have been so idyllic that I can't even fantasize about being with someone better. Although I could tease him about trading up for a younger model, because Paul was born a full five years, count 'em, FIVE years after me. Yes, my dream date is 42.
I really have to work on my cougar skills.
So, any good fantasies lately?