Dear Mr. Fantasy…

It’s Saturday morning, and for the time being I am alone downstairs in my house, enjoying the peace and quiet while I sip my coffee. Nice, huh? Today is especially great because not only is my family sleeping, but so are my “guests.” My sister-in-law, mother-in-law, two nieces and their dog. The visit is going well, but I really, desperately cling to any alone/quiet time I get. And it ain’t much.

Except of course when I escape to work. And that brings me to today’s topic: My fantasy life. Don’t worry, I won’t go into specifics. Well, nothing gross anyway. But I’m a guy. Therefore I fantasize hundreds, possibly thousands, of times each day. I’m not talking only sexual fantasies, though that accouts for about 97% of them. Sometimes it’s as simple as “I wish I had brought a hot pastrami on rye for lunch.” Then I’ll mentally picture the sandwich, eat and savor the taste. It’s not AS good as the real thing, but it’s actually close. I have a fertile imagination. Okay, I may have gotten off track here. If I was ever even on it.

Here’s why I’m bringing up this subject: I’m going on a business trip this week. Where doesn’t matter. It’s who is going to be there that does. Females. Yes, there will be women there.

Necessary qualifier: Now look, I love my wife. I’ve never cheated; have no desire to cheat (in spite of what I’m about to tell you); and I will never cheat. Two of those three are set in stone!

I’ve been on business trips before and nothing has ever happened. When I was single I desperately wanted to have a “fling,” but my desperation and my non-hunkness probably contributed to it never happening. There was this one-time though. I was in Colorado Springs with a rather matronly co-worker. At least this is how we all viewed her until one summer at a company picnic she wore a bikini that revealed she had a smoking body. We were stunned. So here I am with her on this trip. She’s back to looking matronly, but I know what she really looks like underneath. So we’re on a tour of some caves and the tourguide announces he’s going to turn off the flashlight. When he does we are immersed in total blackness and I feel her take my hand. Whoa! The lights come on, she giggles nervously, realizes she has taken my hand and then lets go. Awkward moment for her, amazing for me. That’s it. Nothing happened. But up in my head? We spent every moment together. I sometimes, when remembering it, have to remind myself that it wasn’t real.

Since I’ve been married, the mental affairs don’t go well. Either her boyfriend shows up or she turns out ot be an alien or something. I feel guilty fooling around even in my head. So…this week is a new business trip and therefore potential for a new imagined story. I know this borders on pathetic. Maybe it’s the capital of pathetic. But I just felt the need to confess my imagined transgression that hasn’t even happened yet.

There is, however, one fantasy that will actually come true this week: A break from my family and our invited (not by me) guests. Now that’s almost as delicious as my imagined pastrami sandwich! Sorry, for this week’s rambling.

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5 Responses to Dear Mr. Fantasy…

  1. Peaches says:

    Hey, fella. Better watch yourself.

  2. Sigmoidoscopy Freud says:

    Masturbation both physical and mental is perfectly normal. To fantasize being with Megan Fox or even Sonny Fox is healthy. A problem only arises when the line between fantasy and reality becomes blurred and you shell out money for a hooker.

  3. Dream Employee says:

    Hot pastrami has never been so hot. On a side note, you’re going to tell me that you live in a place big enough to invite over every living in-law, and their livestock and you aren’t huge with the ladies? Right. Trump has his problems in that department as well.

  4. offthe23 says:

    I’m seriously thinking your wife is a saint!

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