Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Confessions of a Married Woman

I want to share something that not many people know. I’m not proud about it, and in fact, it has confused and haunted me for over a year. There’s no easing into this, so I’ll just say it.

I kissed Bob Saget.

Yes, that Bob Saget–the television actor who played Danny Tanner, the father on Full House, and later went on to host America’s Funniest Home Videos. I’m sure he’s done much more than I mention, but we haven’t kept in touch.

When I told my husband, he didn’t seem concerned. He laughed, paused and said, “He wasn’t a better kisser than me, right?” and then he laughed again.

Anyway, back to the kiss. It happened in my dream some time ago. We actually made out while sitting in the upper echelons of an empty football stadium. Turns out he’s a very good kisser.

I remember pointing out the obvious: “Hey, you’re not my husband!”

He said, “Yes, I am,” and pressed his lips on mine.

Then, the strangest thing happened. He turned into the man I married--not his looks or anything. It just became clear in the dream, that this man, Bob Saget, was my husband--Mr. Sandramarie!

While we smooched, the thought that he looked like Danny Tanner nagged at me. He even wore an argyle sweater (My husband refuses to wear any kind of knitted garment). I have to admit that, although I doubted his claim, we kissed again. We would have kept going, too, but the popcorn vender interrupted us. Then I woke up.

Now, I‘ll admit I enjoyed watching Full House with my kids back in the day, but I never once thought of Bob Saget in that way. Don’t get me wrong, he seems nice enough. He’s just not my type. If my dream had been about John Stamos, a co-star in that sitcom, it would have made a whole lot more sense (Oh, the face on that man!).

I prefer a rugged, more muscular guy--not a body builder, but someone who looks like they could at least pick me up if they had to save me from a burning building. Dan Tanner does not fit that description. And he’s too tall for me! I’m just a hair over five feet, and he looks to be six feet or more. I’d never want to argue with a man while looking into his navel.

Not only should Bob Saget not be the man of my dreams, what the heck were we doing in a football stadium? That sport makes my eyes glaze over. I think it does, anyway. I’ve never actually sat and watched an entire game. No offense to all you football fans out there, but I’d rather pluck chin hairs (Not that I have any.).

So, there you have it. That’s my confession. While in an unusual and deserted place, I kissed a man I’m not attracted to, who claimed to be my husband. And I enjoyed it. What does that say about a happily married woman who likes the looks of the man she married? Any dream experts out there? Do I really want to know?

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