In other wishful thinking: I would like a rich, gorgeous man to declare his undying love for me, sweep me off my feet, and put in the work to prove that mpreg is not actually possible between rounds of games and good food and just being complete dorks.
I would absolutely love if a good half of my workday wasn't trying to piece together a situation from notes with more gaps than data, two-thirds of what's left wasn't trying to get someone to actually pay attention to the words I actually said trying to explain a thing.