Last night I watched The Dick Van Dyke Show, which I confess is one of my favorites shows, extreme re-run or no. The occasional cringeworthy sexual mores of that time aside, I love the relationship between Laura and Rob Petrie. I love that they love each other, and I love that they respect each other. There is never any doubt that they are a team and have each other's back. They rarely argue, and when they do, it never gets nasty or serious. Each takes his or her turn being the goofy one; there's no "Smart Wife Tolerating Inept Husband" theme to be the standard springboard for jokes. Each is a capable, smart, attractive person, and you can see why each person would want the other.
There's no cheating, no scandal, and people take care of one another. It's a nice world.
Last night was an episode about an allergy Rob had mysteriously developed, and in one scene he was at the doctor with his shirt unbuttoned.
Honey, that man was FINE.
After it ended, I watched a network rerun of an episode of Sex and the City. This episode, the "zazazu episode," had its share of good couple moments.
I say all this because I chalk up the dream I had last night to all this TV-watching.
In short, I had a hot night with Rob Petrie. I was apparently a cross between Laura Petrie and Charlotte York (who in SATC dates my favorite guy, Harry Goldenblatt). In fact, I made a joke to Rob about nobody expecting Laura and Rob to get this hot, and Rob told me I hadn't seen anything yet.
I would like to mention that in my dream nobody trips over the ottoman.
So now I'm dreaming in black and white, acting as one of two characters from a show where they didn't even share a bed. A business suit and briefcase have never been so sexy. Hayes is spinning.