My Man thinks I am very weird. Other women in their dreams make crazy passionate love to the unattainable men they have crushes on. I had mine take me grocery shopping.
And let me tell you, I HATE grocery shopping. So much. Hate hate hate. I'd spend three hours cleaning out the barn, honestly. If I spend Christmas break at the farm, and I do all the chores, and my mom does all the groceries, I am happy. Truly. I have considered chewing tinfoil if that could get me out of the store. Nobody has presented that offer.
But then Brad Pitt, the Man of my Dreams, (or at least one of them) ends up in the cracker aisle with me, and did we have fun! He encouraged me not to be so cheap because he could afford to buy me good food. He kept taking the cheap crap out of my cart, then told me what the heck, leave my cart, we can just fill up his.
Then Brad and I realized how great this could be if there were any photographers hinding behind the halloween candy display. Because he knows that they'll do that, he's been snapped at the grocery store already. We pictured the headlines on the tabloids: "Brad Pitt takes mystery women to Sobey's!" And Brad and I giggled all the way to the meat aisle!
Brad would take my hand and give it a little squeeze, then crack a few jokes, wink at me when people thought they recognized him, and then he snickered at all my subversive and naughty comments. We talked with sideways mouths and smirks.
As we pushed our heavily laden grocery cart to the checkout, he said, "I like you Heidi." And I said, "Well I like you too Brad." We were just best buds.
At the checkout we stood with our arms around each other's waists, me leaning my head on his shoulder. I whispered to him how great this would look in the paper tomorrow. And we laughed about it!
Jethro is convinced that the antidepressants have killed my libido to the point that a trip to buy food is as erotic as it gets. Well? Welcome to my sad sad life! And he is wrong about one thing. There is nothing about the gorcery store that's any kind of turn on for me. EXCEPT if Brad Pitt is handing me a box of name brand Shreddies.
Maybe some time I'll tell you one of my Johnny Depp dreams. Johnny and I may have been separated at birth, eight years apart. I'm not sayin' or anything. I'm just sayin'.