Dirty Little Secret

I do.

But not in a George Clinton kind of way (that song is him, right? I know he sang it in my all time favorite bad movie, PCU).

I have it in that – oh-my-god-stop-the-rain-and-the-cold-it’s-MayforGod’ssake-and-my-allergies-are-killing-me-and-I’m'-on-the-rag kind of way.

I forgot to post here on Sunday. Although I’m thinking that since Soap Opera Sunday wasn’t originally my idea, I should change it to “True Confession Tuesday” or something. Of course, it’s Wednesday, which means I still dropped the ball this week.

Also, I seem to have a mental block against writing for the NJ Moms blog. I hate every post I’ve written there (notice how I’m not linking to them?) and the other day I actually deleted something I’d worked on for 45 minutes (uh, in case you didn’t notice, I am not the most thoughtful or reflective blogger. I post fast or I don’t post at all.) I can’t seem to find a way to link what I want to write about with New Jersey.

So, I suck. I’ve hardly read any blogs, or written any blogs lately. I owe the wonderful Not Just Another Jen a response to her thoughtful email, which I have started 3 times.

And I am having a hard time figuring out my fancy new cell phone.

Calgon, take me . . . .wait a sec. Fuck bubble baths. Hugh Jackman, take me away. To Hawaii. For the weekend.

Recently I’ve heard people say things like, “Don’t tell my husband that I just want to see that movie because Hugh Jackman’s in it,” and “My wife thinks I just agree to see chick flicks because of her, she doesn’t know about my crush on Rachel McAdams.”

And I shake my head.

Hot Guy and I don’t have secret crushes, we have permission lists.

Like, if I ever get a chance to be naked with Hugh Jackman, I have permission to go for it. Likewise Jon Stewart (okay, mostly I just want him to talk to me, but I’ll be naked if that’s what it’ll take for him to talk to me.). And if I get to do Ben Affleck or Matt Damon, Hot Guy will be really happy for me, as long as I tell him the details. Really.

He has my permission for Drew Barrymore and Sandra Bullock, plus some others I can’t remember. But not Christina Ricci. He thinks she’s on his list, but she’s not. I think she’s weird. She seems like she’d go all stalker or something.

Anyway, I suppose my point is that Hot Guy and I discuss our crushes openly. Possibly even eagerly. And even though I’m the chubbiest I’ve ever been and am pushing 40, I am never threatened by his crushes. Why would I be? The vows talk about forsaking all others, not forsaking all sexual fantasies.

When I was in high school, there was this boy I really, really liked. Surprisingly, we actually started dating. All was fine until he was in a play with this girl that he had a crush on. No, he didn’t dump me. In fact, he was a perfectly attentive boyfriend. It was just that I could tell that he had a crush on this girl, not that she was interested. But it bothered me so much that I dumped him.

I spent the next year and a half regretting it. 18 months of wasting being a cute little thing because I was hung up on a guy who was never going to trust me again. Genius, I tell you. Though  it sure got me over being jealous about somebody’s crushes.

But I’m starting to wonder if Hot Guy and I are in the minority. Do you hide your crushes from your spouse? Or do you have a list?