Let Me Dream Right Now

Let Me Dream Right Now

They say that every girl fantasizes about their dream wedding, but I did not imagine my wedding as a little girl. For the past decade, I have been fantasizing about my idea of a perfect wedding and honeymoon. It extends into the kind of marriage where my husband and I would stay naked all the time and be unashamed like Adam and Eve (not in front of the kids, of course).

The wedding is beautiful. I am the perfect little bride: waist snatched ‘til it can’t be snatched anymore, perfect boobies (no surgery), long shiny hair (no extensions), and a beautiful fairytale-like gown (from Willowby by Watters). With attractive bridal lingerie underneath it.

In my fantasy, the groom and I have never kissed. The first kiss happens at the altar. All of our wedding guests know this, and they collectively say, “Awwwwww” when it finally happens. He and I cry because we are so proud that we made it this far. We resisted temptation. We became best friends. We learned so much about each other, and we're still excited to see what’s next. Oh, and in my vision, we’re perfect looking together—the picture-perfect chocolate couple. (I don’t have a type but, there’s something about chocolate men that has always driven me crazy. So I imagine that my husband will be a dark brown man.) He’s taller than me but not so much that it looks odd. We’re perfectly brown with bright white teeth that almost make us look unreal like Barbie and Ken. Trust me; we can’t stop smiling.

Throughout the whole wedding ceremony, we can’t seem to get enough of each other. We keep holding hands throughout the evening — in most of the wedding pictures, while we walk around greeting and chatting with guests, and under the dining table at the wedding reception. This affection would set me off. I would feel so weak, so aroused, and most of all, I would feel loved. I wouldn’t be able to stop looking at our hands, fingers interlocked, rested on his leg. I love a guy with good-looking, soft hands. If a guy has the right kind of hands, I will always be looking at them and wanting him to touch me all the time. The groom and I would be whispering to each other all night. When we have our first dance as husband and wife, he puts his hands on my tiny waist, looks down at me, and I would feel like the luckiest woman in the entire world.

We wouldn’t spend much time at the reception. We’d get out of there as soon as possible. Head home. My lawfully wed husband would peel off my dress and my lingerie. And though this was intense and we wanted to get to 'it’ right away, that would be as far as 'it’ would go at that moment. We’d put on something comfortable and fly somewhere far, far away. Our honeymoon would be in a beautiful, huge, vast garden/orchard, and we’d wear absolutely nothing the entire time. We’d consummate our marriage in the rich, moist soil—our bed—the night sky—our ceiling.

We’d swim in the lake. We’d pick fruit off of the trees. We’d make love all over the entire property. We’d have dinner outdoors as well. Of course, we’d be seated on beautiful outdoor furniture in an area well-lit by hundreds of fairy lights. We’d drink wine and listen to good music. We'd dance, laugh, reminisce, dream. Pick names for our future kids. Promise never to hurt each other on purpose. We’d know that we’re going to grow old together. There’d be no doubt. We’d make a pact never to forget this experience and the things we said to each other on this night. We wouldn’t want to leave, but we’d have to eventually. We would take the valuable pieces - memories of our honeymoon - home with us, the essential parts, and revisit them as often as humanly possible 'til we die.

Decades have passed, and we're still obsessed with each other. We want to be together all the time, even though that's not humanly possible. We're so in love that we even enjoy the torture of missing each other. It would feel good to miss someone and for them to also miss you. I'd still feel butterflies all the time; when I wake up next to him in the morning and before I fall asleep at night, when he comes home after he's been away for a while, or whenever I think about him. I will get that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach — nervousness, which would feel so good. When he's away, he'd always be telling people how much he misses his wife and how he can't wait to get back home. They'd be a little annoyed by how everything he talks about seems to lead back to me. Just hearing his voice would make me so nervous that he would notice it. Feeling his arms around me would still make me feel the way it did when we hugged for the very first time. He'd always stare, and whenever I caught him, he'd have the same look in his eyes that he had on the first day that I saw him.

More time has passed. The world is cold, but we've kept each other warm. We've always been safe with each other. We can be ourselves without judgment. We can tell each other the truth, whether it hurts or not. Just as we promised, after all this time, we have never hurt each other intentionally. He takes care of my heart; my mind and body are intact because of that. I do the same for him. He knows that he doesn't have to worry about anything. I'm always there for him. I'm always around to pick up the slack. No, our marriage isn't perfect. We fight. We've even separated at some point, but we always come back to each other. We've raised children that will eventually grow into adults who model their relationships after ours. It would not be easy to live up to because what we'd have would be so rare.

It's almost as if it only ever happens in fairytales—the end.