But now my dreams include another man. Seriously, just my dreams. The Biker

I think I’ve figured out the problem though.  I am bored.  I think boredom is the cause of many bad choices. Your mind struggles to entertain itself. It tries to come up with an activity that earns money or even entertains you enough to keep you out of trouble. When it can’t, and because, as my father proclaimed, “boredom is a sign of a weak mind,” then it comes up with bad ideas.  Being bored at work is disastrous. That can lead to entertaining yourself in ways that don’t involve items listed in your job description. 

One of those disastrous ways might be to contact people that you know will entertain you in ways that don’t involve discussions regarding your Mom, sorry Sis. Possibly with people you know are funny and who make you think you might be funny. 

Another would be reading erotic romance novels that teach bored wives all the ways their life could be better, if of course; she was younger, and if … well that’s pretty much the whole list. 

If she were younger, she could be rescued by a bad ass biker who is beautiful¹ ,tall², muscular³, and wealthy⁴. And she would be a beautiful⁵, long haired⁶, short to medium height, curvaceous⁷, pleasantly breasted⁸, highly intelligent⁹, strong willed woman¹⁰. 

I thought by getting married after 30, all my plans and hopes and dreams would have coalesced and set in stone.  Basically, that love, romance, attraction, all of that, was settled, decided and moved on from. 

It’s not. Now I want tall, with MMA muscles, tattoos permanently declaring his devotion to me and an ass. (Oh, did I forget to include his amazing ass.) I want a stoic, funny man who wants to have conversations with me about things that are important and interesting to us both. And…what would be those interests include: Movies, fictional books not discussed with anyone else, traveling, all the money we have. But also, an opinion about things I want to talk about, if I had anything I’d want to talk about. That’s how Chase is. (Yes, his name is almost always Chase) 

In my 20’s I thought I was growing up. In my 30’s I thought I was grown. Married, kids, a house. In my 40’s I was focused on all that, but trouble was bubbling to the surface, and I was beginning to see that my growth had stalled out at 25. In my 50’s I began to redefine myself. After all I had 25 years to catch up on. And here I am at 60. My brain’s all revved up, but my body forgot to stall at 25 like my arrested development. 

Me: Why are we talking? What is it you want?  

Chase: “I think you know. What do you want?” 

Me: I think I want what I haven’t had. And I want someone else to decide. 

This is all about my dream biker boyfriend after all. But, I am a hypocrite. One of my friends cheated and I was jealous that it wasn’t with me.