These earplugs you guys, they’re just the best. The only thing worth living for, there is no more satisfying sensation than feeling them slowly expand and just take the edge off of life. Everything just gets quiet and small. They’re like scotch for my eardrums, increasing my tolerance for all this goddamn noise. I’ve heard that some people prefer sex for stress relief, no way dude. I’d take these two teeny tiny orange plugs and silence over sex any day, sex with you at least.
The last time you touched me wasn’t the worst. I didn’t want to scream in your ear out of frustration, I didn’t have an anxiety attack and need to go hide in the bathroom. I didn’t need to internally monologue myself out of a panic or try not to analyze the difference between this and date rape. Not the violent kind of rape, not the scary back alley stranger kind. The nice kind where you know the guy and it’s been a few dates and he’s expecting it and the kissing wasn’t bad, but you aren’t quite feeling it and you can’t come up with a convincing reason to stop. Maybe if you keep pushing his hand away, maybe if you shift onto your side, maybe if you can stall for time he’ll lose interest, or better yet take a hint and back off so you can keep some dignity without having to Just Say No like a prude anti-drug commercial. Turns out there’s not much difference between the sex we have now as biblical man and wife and the pressure filled guilt and regret sex that so many teen movies with Lifetime channel ambitions peddle. It didn’t used to be, in fact it never really was like this.
Maybe we’re magic, but the bad kind, the unfortunate kind. Maybe our marriage isn’t meant to be lived in linear sequential time order like other peoples. Maybe we really were meant to do “everything on earth together”, like that lovely Gatsby sentiment. Of course “everything on earth” implies everything lovely, everything nice, everything special and worthwhile, everything good. And for us, for me and you, and our unfortunate uncontrollable, unpredictable magic, it seems to be everything unnecessarily hard, everything painful, everything discouraging. Everything painful in the world, I wish to do with you my love.
Isn’t that just lovely? Swoon-fucking-worthy.