I had an amazingly sexy dream last night- the fact that this was on the eve of Valentine's Day is no coincidence- and no, it wasn't about my husband.
In this dream, it's me and the five hottest men on earth- Apolo Ohno, Chad Hedrick, J.R. Celski (all USA), Sven Kramer (Netherlands), and Ivan Skobrev (Russia).
Am I the only one who thinks that speed skating is like sex on ice?
My obsession with speed skating is getting a little out of control. I know that Ivan Skobrev's birthday is February 9th. I know that Apolo used to date Dancing with the Star's Julianne Hough. I cried when J.R. fell in the Olympic Trails and cut his quadriceps to the femur bone with his own skate.
So back to the dream: I was sitting in a lawn chair, center ice. All five of my speed skating wet dreams were racing around the track in a tight-knit group, the sharp blades of their skates cutting through the ice like a hot knife through butter, their muscles rippling, straining, through their shiny spandex suits like gods wrapped in Saran Wrap. And here's the kicker- they weren't racing in the Olympics, no- they were racing against each other for my heart. I was the gold metal.
Right before the group of them crossed the finish line, all five of them gliding to the end like magnificent birds, my dream world and reality collided when I felt my husband throw his arm over my shoulder and give it a squeeze. "Morning, honey," he said. "Happy Valentine's Day."
I bolted upright in bed. Who won? WHO WON?
My husband stumbled out of bed and headed to the kitchen. I could hear him turning on the lights and running water to start the coffee. "Honey, you want anything to drink?" he shouted from the kitchen.
I sighed and fell back against the pillows in resignation, glancing at the bedside clock. It read 11:23am.
"Vodka," I answered back. "On ice."
Quarter Life Whatever
3 years ago