Archive | October, 2015

The Slump (an all too reality based short story)

11 Oct

He fell asleep again. I can’t stop myself from staring at his prostrate form for a moment, listening to the half-snore, half-choking noise escaping his slack-jawed mouth. How many nights in a row is it now? Finding him in this state is starting to feel more normal than arriving home to him awake and erect. Is it normal to fall into such a stagnant state a mere six months after moving in with your significant other? Are we normal? Is normal even a term anyone can use with any degree of certainty anymore?

I used to try waking him up as seductively as I could manage. These days my confidence in the bedroom has waned and so instead I opt for one of two options. The first is noisily getting ready for bed then collapsing into my side opposite him, back turned, fighting for sleep in an anxiety-riddled mind. Tonight that feels too melodramatic so instead I head back out to the living room, grabbing my laptop off the desk on the way. I mull over how I might hunt for sleep tonight while debating how cold a shoulder he will receive come morning. Full on silent mode or just a simple downcast eye followed by terse responses to his attempts at civility?

As I plop down on the brown sectional sofa, I flip up the laptop’s screen and type in the password, one of four variations of the same letters I have used since college. I am still indecisive about whether I want to get off anyway in a secret display of spite or roam the halls of Netflix until I am too droopy-eyed to watch anything in its entirety.

Porn wins out and fifteen minutes later I realize it takes me just as long to find an adequate seven minute video as it does to find a full length cinematic feature. Oh the internet. Perhaps I am too picky in general. Perhaps that is the major flaw in my life as a whole. This isn’t the first time I have spent time with this exact series of thoughts in the stillness post sunset. It is easy to move on, however, since an Existential crisis isn’t exactly what I am looking for at the moment.

Settling for some odd mash up of bondage lesbianism, I get mine just before the firm-breasted starlette on my screen and close the window before she gets a chance. Poor girl, I wonder how may times someone has done that to her. I consider for the briefest moment sleeping on the couch, but every time I do that my neck hurts for two days, affecting me far more than it does him.

I trudge back to bed finding him in in the same position I left him in. He shifts some as I slide under the covers. I am sure his subconscious recognizes a familiar presence, but instead of rolling toward me he rolls away, and seconds later the drone of the half-snore returns.