As I sat on my bed crying the other day, my mind drifted into some imaginary place. Damn you Mister Rogers. Thanks to you I ride the trolley to world of make-believe all too often. This time I was pretending I had a place of my own to escape to.
Sometimes I wish I had my very own apartment. There wouldn’t be much in it. My real life is cluttered with knick knacks that preserve all my precious memories. But this fantasy apartment would just have the essentials. The lamps would be there for lighting, instead of because they had been handed down for 40 years. The linens would be perfectly coordinated high thread count delights. There would be one photo album, with only the best snapshots of the moments I most long to go back to instead of 47 scrapbooks falling off the shelf.
And there would be a stripper pole. Yep, I said it. A stripper pole right in the middle of the romantically lit bedroom with perfectly placed candles on the mantle, fresh flowers in the vase by the bed, and the abundance of pillows. I mean romance is essential. Every girl wants her hand to be held, her feet rubbed, her shoulders caressed, but let’s get real here. Sometimes, we just want to dance, NAKED!
But who do I want to dance naked for? That’s the question that keeps me up at night. Could I rescue my marriage from the depths of hell and find a passion for my husband again? It’s possible, I’m sure. Could I let go of the boys toys I use to distract me from the failings in my marriage? I think I could do that, actually, I know I could do that; but could I say goodbye to the boyfriend? I’m afraid not. He is engrained into my soul. But I could go on just being his friend, because we haven’t crossed that line. It’s just that there is this part of me that knows how close we came to sharing an amazing love story, and that part of me that has seen too many romantic comedies thinks it would all be OK, hunky dory in the end, if the boyfriend would just let me dance naked with him. Sometimes I think the universe owes me that moment with him.
But I know what would happen. One kiss would lead to another, and it would be too much and not enough all at once. I’d be in over my head. I know it, I clearly see that my feelings have gone off the deep end. And its killing me because I always believed in soul mates. I always believed that sometimes the connections between people were chemical, primal, undeniable, and unstoppable.
But is it possible to have 2 soul mates in one life? I have found so many reasons to believe that my husband is my soul mate and then I turn around and I can think of a hundred reasons the boyfriend is my long-lost soul mate, so I did what every girl in need of answers does. I googled it! Of course it gave me a clear answer. Yes. It’s certainly possible to have two soul mates. But then, it said No. It would be extremely rare to find one soul mate, two is pushing it. And then, I read through 3 more cheesy pages about soul mates to find that nobody knows anymore than I do. Maybe I should move to Utah and convince them both to marry me! (Just kidding, I’m a freak, but I’m not a super freak!)
Maybe I could win the lottery, and spend 11.5 months a year being the good wife, and then when my hubby had his annual hunting trip I could sneak off with the boyfriend and satisfy all my fantasies. Rich people can get away with stuff like that! Don’t they?
Finally, I have formulated a plan. I feel so much better now. I’ve established the true task at hand, now all I need is the winning ticket, problem solved!
What do you think my lucky numbers should be? That would definitely pay for my stripper-pole apartment!