WIFE: In Freebie Scenario Number 4, should I bump into Justin Timberlake at Whole Foods, there is no consensual circumstance that finds me licking yogurt off his chest without violating his personal space and various health codes. It was a silly and unhygienic use of a celebrity freebie.
HUSBAND: In Number 17, Maggie Gyllenhaal likely does not have a pear-shaped-father-of-two fetish. It’s farfetched to infer she has tired of Peter Sarsgaard. In consideration of today’s progressive sexual culture, going forward my freebie plots will be grounded in reality and more considerate of celebrities’ domestic situations.
WIFE: In Number 9, “Gosling Glutes,” in which I might jog past a shirtless Ryan Gosling who asks me to stretch him, henceforth I will recommend a licensed physical therapist. When conceiving this freebie, I got carried away with the sweaty thrusting and spread-eagling. I am not qualified to provide range of motion consultation on Ryan Gosling’s gluteal muscles.
HUSBAND: I’m ashamed too many of my freebies begin with, “While out walking the dog …” I can no longer conscientiously whore out our family pet, Galoshes, in hopes that an evening walk ends in sidewalk fornication with a dog-loving celebrity, such as Rihanna, who also owns a Maltese Poodle. It’s insulting to PETA supporters, Rihanna, and Galoshes.
WIFE: In Number 12, “Duchovny Delay,” I, too, am guilty of casting Galoshes in a supporting role while soliciting infidelity. I’ve actually tugged the dog directly into David Duchovny’s path, just so I could apologize for the delay and offer him my celebrity virginity as remuneration. I’ve even elbowed the children into his way. Too many times for it to be a coincidence. I must stop blaming monogamy on the kids.
HUSBAND: I regret not including Laura Linney on my celebrity cheat list. I’ve overlooked her cinematic excellence due to my past temptations skewing toward young Hollywood starlets, rendering my choices for adultery as ageist. I’ll be adding Halle Berry, Julianne Moore, and the wonderful Helen Mirren to positions Number 24-26.
WIFE: Sadly, Number 29, “Stockholm Property Brothers” is both a fantasy about duping twin brothers Jonathan and Drew into sexual captivity under the guise of a fixer-upper, as well as finally renovating the second bathroom so I can take thirty-minute baths unimpeded by my family’s bodily functions. Both fantasies are selfish and implausible.
HUSBAND: I’m removing from my list Number 7, “Olivia Negligee,” in which a dry-cleaning mishap finds Olivia Munn and myself meeting up for brunch to return each other’s garments, leading to nakedness. This scenario implies the dry cleaner would have to provide either me or Olivia Munn with the other’s contact information, which goes against laundromat-client confidentiality. We would have to find a new dry cleaner.
WIFE: Most of my fifty celebrity scenarios are set on grocery night licking yogurt or soft cheeses off the hairless chests of younger actors I’ve followed around the store, all of whom weigh less than me, which is weightist. I will take some time to reflect on, and watch film of, plus-sized actors, and reconsider the expectations I’ve placed on grocery night.
HUSBAND: I’m embarrassed by my intolerant adultery aspirations, a middle-aged plain Joe with a stereotypical heterosexual lineup. It’s 2017, not 2016. Am I really so straight that I would not welcome intimacy should an encounter occur with my favorite actor, Guy Fieri? Would I turn down a pangender tryst with an action star, imagining me as Meryl Streep, imagining them as Bruce Willis, just because it’s confusing? My celebrity cheat lineup is rife with such conservative norms.
WIFE: Number 37, “Rodeo Hamm” does not even end with sex. It’s just an awestruck mother dropping her grocery bags and leaping onto Jon Hamm’s shoulders to see how long I can hold on while he tries to buck me off onto the sidewalk. Ever since I followed Jon Hamm down Columbus Avenue that day, and then on all his errands. I apologize for the things I’m thinking even if they will never occur.