I wasn’t going to post this but I have been given permission as long as the responsible party remains anonymous, I shall of course respect this but as always the rest is factual.
You may or may not know, depending on whether you are alive or dead and, of course, the order in which you read my posts on here but today is Valentine’s day a renowned day for romantics and card shops. I have yet to read the newspaper or see the news today and so have not suffered the bombardment of happy couples that have married or proposed in unusual ways to celebrate the day. I don’t even know if the
morons sorry lovers that attempted the longest kiss in history succeeded yet, but on that note how unpleasant an idea is that? Anyway why should I be left out of this romantic haze? Yes I know, personal choice, baggage, my declared desire to cherish single life, all good reasons but cupid isn’t as easily brushed off as the evil Ms Nature hell no he is a persistent little bugger.
And so a normal day*was disturbed when this flying fat kid** fired his arrow in my general direction, but having doubtless been tipped off by Ms Nature I didn’t get the standard pointy stick he was going to get a giggle out of me, after all why should she have all the fun. Having stopped off for a pint of Stella old chubby fired a wobbly shot and the result winged its way into my inbox, as wrong as all of that sounds I will leave you to add sniggers where appropriate. My email informed me that the reason that I am so tired is that I have been the subject of someone else’s dreams, a proper star attraction of some bodies REM sleep no less.
Actual dreaming episodes were a couple of nights ago ( is there anyone that you know who was overly tired around this time?) but the timing of the email is clearly the result of a fat, flying drunk kid with a bow and arrow, who could doubt the majesty of cupid at work? There are many things in dreams that can’t readily be explained, many oddities and unusual quirks but they tell us that there are also many facts picked up by the sub conscious during the day that it processes during these night-time adventures. Well I can congratulate my dreamer on her fantastic insight into me, how she realised that I was the sixtieth shade of grey I have no idea I never thought for one minute that I had given any indication of the electric shiver that her physical assaults give me. For those that have told me that I write well I can only say that I am nothing compared with the elegant prose that presented nights of such overwhelming passion explored so fervently. It is said, often by me, that true passion treads a fine line between exploration and deviance, the story that unfolded told me that this was no fine line this was a chain link fence straining to contain the bodies crashing into it as they battled the physical constraints preventing the perfect consumption they sought. I am astounded that having awoken she could remember such detail and transcribe it so salaciously, I thank her though for such a vivid description of every exquisitely agonising moment of burning passion, we really were good.
So you get the idea, a night of unbridled passion, limits tested, pushed and trampled in a hot sweaty rush in that full and unrestrained giving that occurs when you let your subconscious explore what your conscious mind suppresses. I apologise now to the NHS for not informing them of this, now obvious, reason for my elevated blood pressure and tiredness, trust me if you knew what we had been doing you would be amazed that I can even write this blog or that she can hasn’t glued a scarf on.
Now I mentioned chubby and his discussions with Ms Nature, you knew that there would be some curve ball coming, some detail that makes this story uniquely me. My dear friend’s sub conscious has been furtively seeking out details to furnish her night-time adventures, all those little things that would make the experience so real but conscious mind was not entirely subdued. Conscious mind realised I wear button flies, sub conscious tore these from me in driving passion but when subconscious was lying in my arms in a drenched and destroyed bed conscious mind took its opportunity. Yes that’s right, as well as the finely detailed passion there is a memory now implanted of helping me with button flies, only I can have dream sex and my partner raises from her post coital exhaustion to act as carer.
I was impressed with the detail of the bed, you clearly don’t use Ikea and the addition of a hammock was either a stroke of genius or was added to ask the question of ‘how does a man with no wrists get into a hammock?’ its interesting that conscious mind was able to sneak in the practical questions while subconscious was out the back measuring up straps and watching porn.
In keeping with the overall theme of ‘is it ok to ask’ and to save you all reading back through the blog I have tried to answer some of the questions that I have heard and that I think may be suppressed in some of your conscious minds:
- Button flies – After hospital I used jog pants and shorts, first return to my trusted 501s was when I returned to work. They were virtually impossible and some of you will recall I disappeared for a bit from Robbo’s leaving do, it wasn’t a sneak off it was a 10 minute fight with buttons after breaking the seal.
- Sleeping with your arms in the air – surprisingly easy, after a couple of days your mind just tells you that they are by your side and you get on with it, I actually woke up more because I was worried that the arms had fallen out of the slings.
- Shaving with both arms in casts – Wedge the electric razor in the bathroom cabinet and move your face around it, you like a POW but hey beats grizzly adams
- Toilet – You know you want to ask, sponge on a stick, lots of water, swearing and pain. It changes your diet, 9 days in hospital and I still waited till I got home
Well I hope that helps but I will happily answer any others, like I say I do this so you don’t have to. To my night-time lover I would like to say that I hope that I have done you justice and have done as you asked and left the detail and your name out, I will see you at 22:00. I would also ask that you watch an episode or two of ‘My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding’ in order to understand my ways a little better, if you don’t blush when I see you next then I have failed as an author mwah x
*Normal is a subjective word
**I have never understood why cupid is pictured as fat, a flying archer burns a lot of calories so he must like his beer and that explains a lot