I had a dream last night (yes this is a blog post about a dream I had, so go fill out your lame blogger bingo card), I had a dream last night that a somewhat famous person wanted to sleep with me. I’m not going to tell you who the famous person was.*
And while I’m attracted to this somewhat famous person, in my dream, I said, “No, I can’t. I have a family, you have a family, we just couldn’t.” In my dream, I was feeling flattered and sort of sexy. But even in my subconscious, I was vaguely grossed out by the idea of sleeping with someone other than my husband.
“What if I offered you a million dollars?” he asked.
“Yup! Let’s go!”
I woke up at this point, and my first thought was I better start working out.
I felt comfortable about telling Dave this story. I felt comfortable telling Dave this story because my goddamned subconscious is so squeaky clean, I don’t even cheat in my dreams, PLUS, if someone famous (or even someone not famous) offered Dave a million dollars to sleep with him, I’d be all, “Okay, bye, sweetie! Do a good job!”
*Dave thought the actual famous person was the funniest part of the story. But I’m not sharing the famous person’s name here in case he ever googles his name and reads this blog and it ruins my chances of ever sleeping with him.