Dear Angela
My husband’s friend and colleague visited our house some weeks back. While we were all having dinner, he mistakenly spilled oil on his shirt and had to go to the bathroom to wash off the stain.
Minutes later, while I was going to the kitchen to bring more bottles of water, I accidentally saw him shirtless as he left the visitor’s toilet ajar. I didn’t know when I said, “Gush! Look at his six packs, it can turn on any woman.” When I realized myself, I quietly walked away before he will notice me staring at him.
These days, when I see my husband shirtless, I wish he has six packs like his friend. The truth is that I have been fantasizing about my husband’s friend for some time, what do I do? I feel so bad about this but please how do I handle the situation.
Worried Maria
Dear worried Maria
Fantasizing is something everyone does, although we all have different fantasies. One thing is that you can fantasize about things that are possible or impossible, and our fantasies are endless, although some people make their fantasies come true by all means.
Fantasizing about someone means that in a direct, or indirect way, someone has left an imprint on you mentally, physically, or emotionally. As a result, you are now creating imaginary scenarios involving them.
There is nothing wrong about fantasizing about your husband’s friend but the question is, what kind of imaginary scenarios do you create about him? You in his arms being cuddled, kissing, being intimate or even being his wife?
Well, if you feel the urge to make your fantasy a reality, which you know is wrong as a married woman, then talk to someone about it, especially someone close to you that you trust. Trust me, you will discover that a huge burden will be lifted off your shoulder and you will see him as your husband’s friend once again.
She sincerely needs your advice. So please read and leave your advice in the comment box below.
If you have any relationship issue bothering you or someone you know, please feel free to send a mail to glamtush@gmail.com.
