I give it about a 7.5 on the Nerd Scale.*

I probably shouldn't confess this, but I figure people will be too busy laughing to question my sanity or my taste in men. I had a dream that I made out with Wil Wheaton. On a bed. With my laptop set aside. While both of us were blogging. We'd write a couple of sentences, or I'd send an e-mail and then we'd take a break for face suckage. Yes, he had the facial hair. (By the way, he's a great kisser in my dreams so the beard burn was totally worth it.)

The sordid affair of clandestine blogging and groping continued in several different hotel rooms at different conventions until Sam caught wind of it and was understandably upset despite me trying to explain that he should be proud because his girlfriend made out with Wil Fuckin' Wheaton. Yeah, he still made me choose between them anyway. I chose Sam, which says a lot about our relationship, I think. Also it was probably because I had one of those dream epiphanies wherein I turned to Wil and was all, "Oh my freakin' god! Dude, you're, like, married!"

Really, I have no idea where this came from. Although I follow Wil Wheaton on Twitter, I do not read his blog except on the rare occasion because usually I'm too busy lurking around writing blogs and feminist blogs. Before this dream happened, I was watching season two of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so if anything I should be dreaming about Xander Harris/Nicholas Brendan for the geek factor, or Spike/Jason Marsters for the "Make me weak in the knees" factor. This isn't to say Wil's not attractive -- he's always been cute to me, even back when I just knew of him as "That guy who plays Wesley Crusher." I just think my brain has so many other alternatives to consider, such as Alan Rickman or Jeremy Irons, and this really came out of left field.

I swear I don't have a blogging fetish. No, really.

Oh my god I can't believe I admitted to this dream.

* = The Nerd Scale always goes to eleven. Always.**

** = If I have to explain the joke, you won't find it funny.