Daydreaming

I'm irritating Hubby by viewing blogs today. "Sitting on your fat ass again, aren't you?" To stifle the hurt, I begin to daydream. My first daydreams must have been when I was 8 years old. I had a crush on Diver Dan from the TV series in the early 1960s. Kaptain Kangaroo never did it for me, neither did Mr. Greenjeans. Diver Dan would always rescue me from some argument my parents were having or from my non-castle-like life. Then there was Adam West in the Batman TV series who did the same. In very clear sequence I remember the objects of my daydreams. Robin was a total wimp - yecck. After that series, I daydreamed about Davy Jones from the Monkees. Why I didn't think he was a wimp was beyond me. He was the shortest Monkee but he was British, and I loved his Gypsy British look. As I got older, the daydreams weren't always so childish - most were xxx-rated. Hell, even Davy Jones daydreams were xxx-rated at times. In 8th grade and beyond, it was Paul McCartney. Oh what a hunk he was then. Anything was better than sitting in Bible classes with boring Bible teachers and Rebetzzins and Rabbis who tried to separate the sexes often very futilely. I was getting it on with Paul Mc - his real-life wife invisible in my dreams. During class, after class, he was with me when I was walking down the streets in the Bronx, even accompanying me on the subway. Delusional? Maybe. Who wouldn't want to escape the Bronx in the 1970s? I imagined myself in his home in St. John's Wood. Of course I wasn't 14 in my dreams. I was 18 and 19. Certainly not jailbait. When I graduated high school - a miraculous feat indeed - I graduated to the more hard-rocking Rolling Stones. I pretended I was best friends with Keith Richards, like a brother to me. Mick, feh. Didn't feature much in my dreams, except for me having smart answers to his sarcastic comments. I always had the right answers in my day dreams. In real life, I wasn't too assertive. I'm getting a bit better at it, but the awkwardness of realizing how unassertive I was - was terrible and so I daydreamed about having the balls, about not being shy, about getting what it is I wanted, even though I had absolutely not much of an idea what the hell I wanted. Now my latest movie star crush is invading my brain space. Oh dear. So now I don't know if I'm palpatating because I'm thinking about him or because it's a menopause thing. In my day dreams - besides the xxx-rated stuff you will not read about here - we do peace work together, we think alike, we want the same things in life, I'm not after him for his money although the fact that he has some certainly helps in life - I don't have to be a slave for a salary, we vacation in Sinai and swim with the Dolphins, I don't look like I'm pushing 50, he looks the same as he does now and we live happily ever after....