Confession: I have crushes!

Confession: I’m horny.


It’s quite embarrassing, really. Moms aren’t supposed to be horny. Sexy, maybe—behind closed and locked doors after the kids have gone to sleep and they’ve had a chance to wash the congealed oatmeal out of their hair—but not horny.

I didn’t even realize I was horny until my husband called me on it.

Or rather, another HMM’s husband called us both on it.

It’s Stuart’s fault. He invited another cop and his wife out for drinks with our go-to couple, Caryn and Jeff. Caryn (blonde-and-built HMM—her van is a sleek silver with a naughty fairy decal on the back) and I were expecting a slightly paunchy, tough-faced, mustached older guy and his bitter-looking wife.

I think we used up our Karma-points, Caryn and I, because in walked Deputy Hottie (and his equally gorgeous wife who, you guessed it, drives a minivan. Hers is lipstick red with surround-sound!) Nice, tall drink of water in low-slung jeans and tight tee with chocolate brown eyes, chiseled cheeks, a quick mouth and the hints of a tattoo around his impressive biceps.

It was 2-for-1 martini night at Indigo, and we’d been there at least half and hour, so Caryn and I are to be excused for hi-fiving it in obvious fashion.

We’re also to be excused for the excessive flirting that we aimed Deputy Hottie’s way.

Caryn and I generally do not consume more than one drink in public because we both get exceedingly flirty. This is not a good thing for two high school teachers in a small town. However, on this night, we indulged. And flirted outrageously. He flirted back (his S.O. was occupied with our super-hot husbands & catching up on the martini count, so all were happy). The whole point of flirting is foreplay and, in my enlightened opinion, we HMMs ought to indulge in a little flirt more often. Here’s why: by the time Stuart pulled into our driveway, after I’d had a good 4 hours to ply my wiles on Deputy Hottie--and have him reciprocate—I was mostly naked, I’d gotten him halfway naked and…well…it was one of the better nights in our marital relations. Right there on the hood of the old minivan.

It was several nights later, at our weekly family dinner with Caryn and Jeff, that I realized how horny I am. Jeff made a few (deserved) snarky comments about our flirtations with Deputy Hottie and, instead of feeling chastised, I felt a bit damp in my Hanky Pankys just thinking about DH again.

Stuey got lucky that night, too.

The thing is, I like sex. I know it is de rigueur amongst non-HMMs to complain about how much their husbands want sex and how much they don’t. I agree, it can be hard to keep up with a man’s desires—after all, a stiff breeze truly does turn them on. Still, I never complain. I like sex. Lots of sex. Regular sex, sex in not-regular places, fast sex, slow sex, naughty sex, oral sex, you name it, I like it.

In other words, I’m as horny as a 16-year-old boy on Prom night. Yes, I’m over 30. Yes, I’m the mother of two. Yes, my husband works long and odd hours at a stressful and thankless job. Yes, my children have ‘sex-radar’ and knock on the door at very inconvenient times. And yes, I’ve had sex with the same man for the past 14 years and will, God willing, for the rest of my life. No, to answer those unmarried misses out there (and misters who are man enough to read this blog), this only-one-penis-forever fate doesn’t sound boring or ‘vanilla’ or monotonous.

Because I cheat.

Oh, put away your William’s and Sonoma carving knives, ladies. I don’t physically cheat. The closest I’ve gotten to physicality ‘down there’ with any man besides my husband is my annual pap smear with my grandfather-like OB/GYN. But mentally….ahhhh, mentally.

Mentally, I am a slut.

Thank God for dark Kate Spade sunglasses; they hide my admiring and gleaming eyes when I spot a nice piece of Man Candy. But I don’t just look…oh no, I store that jpeg mental file and USE it. And when I say USE it, I mean the same way my husband uses Megan Fox, some men use strip clubs and the reason Internet Porn is one of the fastest growing industries. I have an excellent imagination and I like to exercise that creativity. In other words…

Mentally, I have fucked at least half my town.

Ok, nowhere near that many; old men and beer guts do nothing for me. But you get the picture.

Even worse, I get crushes. Full-on, school-girl, giggle-when-you-see-him, hope-he-touches-your-hand, will-he-like-this-outfit crushes. Whom do I crush on??? The list changes, but the following are recurring favorites in random order.

Top 5 Crushes in Random Order

1. Hot Gym Guy. Inspiring. I usually go for the lanky-but-muscular type; rowers, swimmers, water polo players. But this man is a nice hunk of beefcake with close-cropped hair, deep blue eyes, a dimple in his right cheek when he grins and biceps that are larger than my thighs. I don’t know his name, but I know the exact contour of his ass quite well as I have logged a million Elliptical miles while admiring it. The sight of that tight and well-toned ass really motivates me to climb those stupid stairs to nowhere. My husband loves those mornings Hot Gym Guy’s workout schedule and mine coincide as he is guaranteed a nice on-the-bathroom-counter or against-the-tile-in-the-shower quickie.

2. Best Guy Friend. Bang! That one’s been a secret since I wore a training bra, but Hot Minivan Moms are honest. Well, not really, but this guy is HOT. For God’s sake, he’s a fucking Navy SEAL—an officer, no less, so the uniform is better—who writes poetry, studies Yoga and calls my children ‘his girls’. Is there anything sexier than a sensitive, children-loving poet who has the body of a, well, Navy SEAL and a license to kill all the bad guys in the world? And yes, he has a girlfriend: she’s 8 years younger than I, 2 dress sizes smaller, a cup size larger and blonde. Stuey fully approves of nights out with this Crush, as he gets to look at the Twinkie blonde and we BOTH get lucky at the end of the night!


3. Doting Daddy. Yummy. I don’t know his name, but Kindergarten pick-up is a better experience because of him. Tall, strapping, wears perfectly-faded jeans and well-fitting tee-shirts with converse sneakers on his feet. Greets his children with big smiles. Unfortunately for me, he seems to prefer blondes. He’s quite infatuated with Caryn…to the point where he has blatantly turned his back on me in order to make his conversation with her more intimate. But I don’t mind; he has an excellent ass!

4. Old College Stroke. Wet. For those of you out there who are not Rowers, this is not a sexual pun. Or rather, it’s one of the best sexual puns but you must be a rower to understand it. We’ll just say that, as a coxswain for a well-endowed-and-way-hot stroke of my Men’s Eight, Naked Rowing Day was like my birthday, Christmas and New Year’s Eve all packed into one glorious 5 am row. (If you don’t know rowing, go Google a picture. Yes, I was the one who sits in the stern and stares directly into the first rower’s—that’s the stroke—lap. And this particular lap was very, very well hung. Get it now?)

5. Matt Damon. MMMM! Ought to have put him first, but hell, the Sexiest Man Alive who ranks as #1 DILF is a given! If he’s not on your Mom Porn list, there is something seriously wrong with you. Go--right now!--and Netflix The Bourne Identity and get ready to make your husband really happy. Or just be selfish and get happy all by yourself. Either way, Matt always delivers.

Some husbands would be horrified that their wives have crushes (as if they don’t check out their wife’s friends, their friend’s wives and every other pair of breasts they can see!) Worse, I know a few who get angry when their wives are flirty. Not my man. He enjoys it. Because my husband is wise: the bigger the crush I have, the more sex he gets to have.

Here’s how it works: when I’m crushing on a guy, I am fantasizing about having sex with him. I don’t have to see him; I just upload some lovely mental image and run with it. But if the Crush is around, a mere look can lead to some XXX-rated mental action and an innocent touch can make me need to change my panties. The more I think about sex, the more I want sex. I read once that sex for women is all mentally stimulated. My crushes keep me very, very stimulated. And because I am only a slut mentally, this all translates to a lot of sex for my husband.

So really, I have to thank all of my crushes on my husband’s behalf.

Thanks for keeping me horny, guys.