Admit it, you’ve had it too.
You know the fantasy I’m talking about. The one where you tragically lose your husband, while you’re still in your prime and somehow your kids have magically become grownups and moved out, so it’s just you and a lot of money and people feeling bad for you.
Ya. That’d be all right.
For the record, (and I do mean legal record here,) I love my husband dearly and have no plans to “off,” him or anything dramatic like that. But man being married is a drag sometimes. So much compromise and acting like you’re listening and caring and stuff.
After being married for almost twenty years I am really starting to understand “crazy, single cat lady,” as a lifestyle choice.
So with nearly two decades of waking up to the same human life form, the mind wanders sometimes and occasionally concocts wild and inappropriate husbandless plans that look a little like this:
Slutting it up
Yup, as introverted as I am, I’d get back out there and play the field with wild abandon. (If you haven’t already Mom, avert your eyes.) I was far too cautious to sew many wild oats in my youth and now I regret it. Plus there wasn’t all the crazy dating apps that exist today. Now I could likely meet someone, have them take a blood test, show me the results and then hook up with them all without actually having to talk to them. Yes please.
Paint Every Wall a Different Shade of Purple
I know this may seem lame to include, but purple’s my jam and a major bone of contention in our abode. If I had to assign a percentage to how purple my home is I’d estimate 47.2% purple. Which is 47.2% too much according to my husband. Party pooper.
Where Tap Dancing Shoes All the Time and Explore Other Annoying Flights of Fancy
Sometimes don’t you just want to do things for the hell of it? No matter how ridiculous and/or obnoxious they might be. Well having a husband often shuts these urges down. For example I really like tap shoes. And no I don’t want to take dance classes. I just want to wear the tap shoes and make that super cool clickety-clackety noise with them wherever I walk. I just know it would make everything so much more fun. Think about it. Mopping the floor – clickety clack. Paying a bill – clickety clack. Having a poo – clickety clack. Awesome. My husband does not agree.
Never Talk on the F’ing Phone Again
God I hate the phone. Anyone who is connected to me in any way knows this about me. You either text, email or use a carrier pigeon to communicate with me. That is it. However, my husband is the exception. If he calls I begrudgingly answer. It’s probably because I love him and junk. But if he snuffs it, I’m done baby. Phone call free and lovin’ it.
Okay, so not exactly earth shattering revelations here, but you have your dead husband fantasy and I’ll have mine. Maybe I can get him to bend on the tap shoes?