The other night with my girlfriends we discussed attending the Maroon 5 concert. They emphasized they wanted to get as close as possible to Adam Levine to better their chances of sleeping with him. I listened with much amusement, all the while thinking, ?We are just too old to be fawning over rock stars.? At this stage in my life, I need a sure thing.
Of course I reminisced about my time in high school when I made my way to the front row of the Bon Jovi concert, unclasped my bra and threw it at Jon. Back then, I truly believed he would pick it up, and scream into the microphone, ?Who has the 34A Wonderbra? Please come up, you are coming on the tour bus after the show and I will tease your hair, then close the curtains on my bus bunkbed.?
But now? At forty? I am too cool and mature to ?die? over Adam Levine.
The following is the dream I had a few days later after my girls? night out:
I am in LA, and somehow Adam Levine is at the same restaurant as me. Our eyes meet and he walks over.
Hi, he says.
Want a drink?
So you live here?
Just visiting from Florida.
Wow, Florida. That?s so cool. I wish I lived in Florida. The humidity is sexy.
I guess. And my hair always looks good. What?s your name?
Adam. Adam Levine.
What do you do in LA?
Oh, I’m in a band.
Have I heard of it? (know that in all my fantasies with celebs, it?s the same thing, I will always act like I don?t know them. Except for, maybe, the Real Housewives.)
Oh yes. That Payphone song is catchy.
Listen, Jen. I don?t know your story, but I am really into you. Do you want to head back to my house in the Hollywood Hills? I have sheepskin rugs and really cool chandeliers in every room.
Adam, you seem really nice, but I am forty and married and have three kids. I don?t think I should.
Wow. That is so sexy! The girls I date are so boring. All they do is model lingerie and bathing suits.
Well, I am sure their bodies are better than mine. Their stomachs are perfectly flat.
Yes. But their bodies don?t tell a story. I am sure your stomach tells a story.
Okay, let?s go.
We get to his place and it looks like what a rock star?s house should look like. I am nervous. I tell him I don?t think I can do this to my husband. He tells me we could all live together, the kids, Scott. That he and Scott would share me like in Big Love. He would help with soccer carpool. He tells me his mother would love me and she isn?t the typical Jewish mother. She would let me choose all he restaurants, even on Mother?s Day.
Adam, you seem perfect. You are a Jewish Rock Star, you are hot, you would keep me skinny, and we could share jeans. But I can?t. Just knowing I could have you is enough.
Shabbat Shalom, Adam.
Shabbat Shalom, Jen. My next tattoo will be the state of Florida, so I will never forget you.
And then I wake up, knowing that next week when I go to LA, I just might buy one of those Star Maps.
So to my girlfriends, sorry I judged, I kind of get it.