|If I wanted to cuddle up to my recliner, |
I wouldn't have walked all the way to the bedroom
He's depriving me of several joys: feeling his skin against my cheek; smelling his skin first thing in the morning; nuzzling my nose into his back. Have you ever tried to nuzzle your nose into a t-shirt? It's bullshit. It's as erotic as nuzzling your nose into a lunch tote. And, it sucks when I wanna lightly scratch his back because I have to hike up the shirt and he has to contort his body to accomodate the situation then it becomes a thing and I don't even want to do it anymore.
I'm left to imagine what possibilities lie underneath his Hanes crewneck because he's clutching it tighter than my grandma clutches her purse on the crosstown bus. Does he have an overly hairy back? A severe case of bacne? A tattoo of Alf waving a Confederate flag? A tattoo of two Alfs (Alves?) waving Confederate flags? What gives?
This is a cotton travesty! It's a cotton-pacalypse! It's a cottonado!