It’s been said that the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray, but if you read between the lines sometimes, going astray can work in your favor.
I went on Bethenny Frankel’s live talk show yesterday to talk about a sex dream I had. Tragically, it never made it on the air but let’s be real here: this is the kind of “tragic” that is of the first world problems variety. The important thing to keep in mind is that:
a) I was willing to do it.
b) I felt comfortable knowing that I was willing to do it.
c) Did I mention that I was willing to go on TV and talk about a crazy sex dream in front a former Real Housewife and audiences from six different states? And not get embarrassed? SLOW YOUR ROLL, HEATHER ANNE.
This is an unusually big stride for me, this whole “let’s talk about sex!” business. I am literally a real life version of Charlotte York from Sex and the City. I have a very strong set of expectations that I look for in a guy and refuse to budge on and I’m also most likely to scream, “Damnit I just really want to be fucked!” at a dinner table with people I maybe half know while wearing pearls. The only people I have ever frankly discussed sex with have been a small handful of my closest girlfriends. That’s it. The one time I discussed boys with my mom in high school, she immediately launched into a story about all of the guys she dated at my age. Meanwhile, I sat there saying, “okay, okay,” all the while thinking, "Well, shit. My version of communicating with a guy is still at a pass ya a Post-It note level."
Flash forward to Heather circa now. I had a dream while I was in San Francisco during Memorial Day weekend that was pretty damn raw and raunchy. It came after a night of bar hopping - the night I was at one point double fisting my alcohols. My sex dream was extremely intense. I wore black lingerie and was in complete control - on top of the guy, totally dominating the scene, all the dirty talk, etc.
Who was the guy?
Peter Dinklage from Game of Thrones, that’s who. And I’ll be damned if it wasn’t the hottest sex dream ever.
I woke up from the dream with a mild hangover but I was ready to share this dream with two of my closest girlfriends. Which was then shared to eight more. And then I entered the story onto Bethenny and all of the producers at Ellen read it and thought it was awesome (oh, and they found this blog and read it too and really liked it so that’s some sweet snaps in my corner) and called me to come on the show.
The icing on top of the cake to this dream, the true selling point, is of course inspired by my life. I would be laying it all out on the table. Younger Heather would have been positively mortified at me. She’d be going into panic attack mode that something like this would wind up on YouTube and go viral.
The only thing present day Heather was panicked about was the cab fare to Burbank and back.
Our sex dreams were going to be analyzed by a sex dream interpreter and early on, I had a weird inkling that mine probably wouldn’t make it on TV because there were a lot of girls picked to ask their dream questions. We all practiced them out loud in front of each other backstage before going on and most everyone had pretty standard stuff: married women dreaming of bondage, making out with girls whenever you’re straight, ye olde boyfriend cheating on you with a roommate and walking in on it scenario, etc. When I stood up and said my dream aloud, one woman listening gasped out loud in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion. “No way! C’mon now, that didn’t happen.”
"Oh trust me, it did." I replied back as a series of muted swear words danced in my head. (Who even questions somebody’s dream like that?) But whatevs, I was more than ready to share this sucker with the world.
The breakdown of the episode went like this:
1) Kris Jenner was the guest and it’s really, really sad to me that upon initially hearing the name, I thought to myself, “Who?” My first senior(ish) moment. C’mon Heather, the Kardashians live in the same city as you!
2) She easily took up a half hour.
3) We went into a cooking segment where Bethenny made some pretty delish looking guac dip.
4) Bethenny is bone rail thin, had really cool snake patterned pants on, tripped on her heels during commercials at one point and swore like a sailor (I would have too), and is pretty upbeat and sure does love to dance it out.
5) That bartender guy with the cocktails they introduce at the beginning of the show? THEY DON’T MAKE THE AUDIENCE COCKTAILS. SAD DAY SAD DAY SAD DAY.
6) I knew my dream wasn’t going to happen when Bethenny didn’t leave from the left hand side of the audience during the commercial break. (I was stationed on the right hand side, they strategically place everyone in the audience around carefully so that they can address them in a way that looks spontaneous enough but is mapped out beforehand.)
7) On the super plus side, there’s about a million shots of me in the episode which will air next week.
I did leave with a free SkinnyGirl cup, and tickets for the Ellen Show (YEAH BOI) so there’s that. But I felt weirdly sad that I didn’t get to talk about my dream! That kind of sad was mixed in with relief in a way, because maybe, just maybe, the universe is taking care of me in some small way that I don’t know. I may not be destined for 15 minutes of sex dream fame. There could be something bigger waiting that I just don’t know yet.
But on my way out, I remembered two quotes that filled me with a quiet kind of happiness. The Woody Allen one that 80% of success is showing up (did that, thank you very much) and an old soliloquy from Molly Bloom in Ulysses, “And yes I said yes I will yes.” because I did say yes. I try my best to say “yes” to most situations and scenarios whenever I can too. There’s just nothing to lose, y’know?
A very nice mom with her daughter (the ones who took my photo above) caught up with me on my way out, “Oh Heather! You didn’t get to talk about your dream!”
"Oh I know. It’s okay." I replied and the mom said, "Yours was the best. It was really good!"
My head flashbacked to the dream briefly and I smiled back, “It was good, wasn’t it?”
Bringing the sexyback to the blogosphere,