DILDOS are My New BFFs

I have been happily married for more than ten years and I still have a great sex life with my husband. But lately I can’t get over my obsession with DILDOS.

I don’t mean sex toys. I’m talking about Dads I’d Like to DO!

I love my husband. Really. But I can’t help it. I fantasize about other men. In particular: Dads. They all hold a certain appeal. It could be looks, charm or a sarcastic sense of humor.

I think about them constantly.

Mostly I imagine them doing all the things my husband balks at. As I fold laundry I stare off into the middle distance in my garage. I picture Tom with his bright blue eyes and tight butt. I see him boosting me onto the dryer for a deep kiss, then wonder if he adds fabric softener, and separates darks from whites.

My mind wanders as I stuff tiny boxer briefs into my seven-year-old’s top dresser drawer. Does that cute little blonde girl’s cute blond daddy actually fold their clean clothes? I’m about to find out because we are making out — on a heap of freshly laundered clothing.

Does he know whose socks are whose?

I envision a quickie in a mini, van that is — with the hot PE teacher who wears mirror shades and gym shorts year-round, highlighting his firm calves. I’m sure he actually plays outdoors with his own kids rather than watches sports indoors by himself.

As I remind my husband AGAIN about after school plans that involve him picking up one of the kids, I imagine Ron, a stay-at-home Dad, arranging his own family calendar.

I bet he even drives on field trips!

Of course I know in my heart (if not my vivid imagination) that these men are no better at parenting than my own husband. No guy is perfect even though he may appear to be merely by arriving on time for school pickup instead of waiting ‘till the last minute to avoid parking lot gridlock.

I realize that fantasy is so much better than reality could ever be, so I would never actually make a move. First of all, it would not go over well at our monthly PTA meeting. And I would rather not be disappointed.

Still, I can envision it now. The stud muffin Dad I have been flirting with in the library and I are going at it when suddenly he throws his back out — because he has collapsed under the weight (and smell) of the clothing in my overloaded laundry basket.

I’ll keep my mind occupied with DILDOS because they not only make folding laundry more pleasant — they  get me to do it. Laundry, that is.