Autos, carpooling, children, Dirty talk, driving, fantasy, forties, forty, humor, marriage, midlife crisis, motherhood, New Jersey, parenting, Recreation, relationships, sex, soccer moms, Starbucks, studs, teens
I am worn out from driving this past weekend. Baseball and soccer games, shopping, movies, the kids to friend’s houses and a party. This was just on Saturday. Adding exhausted insult to injury, Sunday I made the two hour trek to my daughter’s college for brunch. Five minutes in I was yawning so you can imagine how I could barely keep my eyes open on the ride home.
I eat and sleep pretty well. I don’t lug large steel beams around a construction site in 90 degree heat. I work in a comfortable office typing on a computer, staring at spreadsheets, never far from a cool glass of water and plenty of snacks. The only machinery I operate is the microwave to nuke my Starbucks Grande Latte to the perfect temperature. The only stressful part to my day is avoiding the candy bowl. I don’t chase toddlers at the park. I am not kept up at night by a screaming newborn. I don’t play on a women’s competitive softball team or train for Ultra Marathons. I run 3 miles every other day on the treadmill but I stop, ready for this, I stop when I get tired.
I have no business being this tired. Except for one atrocious, depressing, repulsive reason – I am getting old.
As I envisioned my car flipping over the guard rail on the excruciating long ride home, I desperately needed to channel some oomph to keep me awake. Sadly, the second cup of coffee, obscenely loud music and open windows were not doing the trick. Luckily, I remembered FU2’s exceptionally stimulating idea developed while spending way too much time in her car.
Like most mothers today, FU2 spends extraordinary hours driving to her children’s activities. One evening while waiting for her daughter, whose practice had run long, she had a flash of epic genius.
Young studs talking dirty to carpooling moms.
I am giving you a minute to spin that idea tantalizingly around your brain. That’s right – dirty talking studs (DTS)!
Brilliant, right? You are probably wondering why you didn’t think of this idea. Oh, and to steer the fantasy to an even more delectable level, these dreamboats are bare chested. Absolutely brilliant.
Not minding the driving so much now, are you? Remember those cursed headphones your kids wear all the time pretending not to hear you ask about homework? Those headphones are now your best friend.
Picture this: Athletic and dreamy, he resides dangerously close, the seat belt (safety first) straining tightly across his rippled chest as he leans towards you, intimately whispering depraved erotic sweet nothings into your ear. Words fall breathlessly off his tongue, grazing your neck, before inhabiting you somewhere further south.
I know you are envisioning these muscular youthful charmers without any clothes at all but come on now, that is most likely illegal, probably costs extra and will cause the largest traffic accident in the history of New Jersey highways. And can’t you see your 15 year old taking off his headphones for the first time ever to inform your husband about the naked guy in Mom’s Honda Pilot. I am turned on just by typing those words.
Of course, DTS could be customized – do you prefer well-defined shoulders or enormous pecs? Are you more an ab girl? Facial hair or clean shaven? Foreign or domestic? College graduate or police officer? Brown eyes or blue? Ok, clearly eye color doesn’t matter here but why not dream up the package you have been waiting your entire life for. Maybe this is the reason you had kids in the first place.
I must consider the downside – more distracting than texting. I certainly wouldn’t want to drive off the side of the road while I’m all hot and bothered. Solution: how about waiting in the parking lot during Junior’s baseball practice rather than run errands and let the dirty talking commence. Gives a whole new meaning to carpooling!
DTS got me through the ride home on Sunday. Thanks FU2! Unfortunately, my DTS was only in my mind but for those two hours, I allowed myself to be seduced. That explains the strange looks by other drivers, my utter disregard for the speed limit and driving past my exit.
I will send you the link once we get the business up and running.