Baddy and I got robbed of the opportunity to celebrate our Anniversary together so the other night I reenacted the plan, only by myself, by going to Carbondale and sitting by myself at the bar at Phat Thai and having a glass of red wine for dinner, and then I went to see the film, 500 Days Of Summer.
When an attractive young man sat down alone right next to me I began day dreaming about the what ifs…and imagined what it would be like to still be single and living in New York City, which brought me to thinking about one of my favorite movies, “After Hours,” where a man by happenstance travels outside of his secure box of the upper east side of the city and travels downtown. The entire evening he cannot make it back home as he gets thrown into weird, bazaar and sexual scenarios, idea not too far fetched for that glorious city. Sometimes I get so depressed that my life of spontaneity is oh so very OVER.
As a true romanticist I tend to drive Baddy crazy with my fantasizing leading him into fantasy games asking questions like;
Creating these scenarios helps to spark the animal magnetism that I have always had for Baddy, but he is not so keen on playing, reminding me that only women fantasize like that. I’m calling bull crap on that one. You?
With this cooler weather and the inability to have any time to myself, my passions are resurfacing full force. I am fed up with the daily mundane tasks of cooking, cleaning and caring for everybody, did I really sign up for this life? Wasn’t I once a traveler and an adventurer? Didn’t I at one time in my life thrive off of an occasional wild romantic interlude with a stranger? Yes…as a matter of fact, yes I did.
I wrote an email to my oldest sister in Boston requesting her to escape with me to an island where we pack nothing but: my lap top for writing, bikinis, flip flops, any necessary fashionable accessories and a few great novels. We would wake up in the morning and take a two hour run on the beach and then fall asleep in our lounge chairs with our hands caressing the soft sand. We could drool and snore loudly with our mouths open because we would be incognito, total strangers in a strange land where nobody would have to know our marital situation, or that I had three crazy boys running amuck at home.
In the afternoons we would hang out at the Tiki Hut Bar and drink fresh boat drinks while talking to the philosophical bartender with degrees in Psych and philosophy and laugh as we objectively analyze all of the bullshit that we have to deal with in our lives at home.
At night we would dress in our sexy sundresses and make a stir at the local dive bar, slam dancing to the local rock band, and when we were through meeting and playing with all of the locals we would stumble home under the warm tropical breeze and laugh until we cry, like we did when we were in high school.
When we would not be drinking, running, drooling or reading, I would write to my hearts content and figure it all out…life, marriage, kids. And when I got truly good and bored I would return home refueled and ready to be the mother that I am meant to be.
What??? A girl can dream can’t she???