So many reasons to sleep alone.
When I really think about it, staying single instead of getting married becomes an increasingly attractive prospect. Sleeping with a man not only decreases the quality of a lady's sleep, it also obstructs the possibility of a fully productive morning.
They're all the same, too, and they behave as though they could never fathom of learning to suppress their cave-dwelling habits in order to please the lady of their dream spaces (despite the fact that every single one of them spends most of his time wanting here there and trying to get her there).
At night, if he does not pass out in a sprawl before the lady, he will ensure to disrupt her thoroughly from her peaceful slumber when clambering onto the bed beside her, eager to mutter to her about all of his daily activities, punctuated diligently with grunted complaints or pointed insistence that the lady respond coherently. He will then thrash about, tugging and shifting the bedsheets about himself and off of the lady, until his pointy sections are aimed directly into her softest ones, or some heavy limb has been bluntly flopped upon her rib or hip bone.
His breathing will become heavy and noisome and he will begin to expel that air from between his lips in small and increasingly loud puffs. These will eventually fade, only to keep odd rhythms in direct opposition to the lady's recovering sleep pattern. The lady will once again drift off, only to be startled awake by the man's hypnotic jerks, and then she will shift to the precipice of the mattress to avoid being jabbed by his pointy bits or crushed by the heavy ones. She will fidget momentarily with the triangle of bed sheet he has left free from his cocooning, trying to readjust her pillow around the trajectory of his, and manage to find a comfortable position. His breathing has quieted and the puffing of air has decreased its tempo.
The lady will close her eyes and begin letting her senses settle when his first snore begins to rumble. Now, the lady must either fall asleep within ten minutes, or try to tune out the unmelodious and off-beat symphony of man rumbling beside her head. If she is able to, she will attempt to turn him onto his side, facing away from her, but if his size too far outweighs hers, she will often be unsuccessful and begin to wish desperately for a pair of suitable earplugs (which are also helpful for plugging the nostrils if you must hold the lips closed with both hands).
It is among this symphony and sprawling lumber of man parts that the lady will, miraculously, fall asleep. She will blessedly sleep through the rest of his noise and dead weight or fidget at regular intervals through the rest of the night, then to awaken and arise before the man.
On a lady's busy day, she will be awake long before the man and she will take this precious time to complete her duties for the day. The man will remain in bed as the air of the bed room grows stale and heavy with the odor of his sleeping. She will be briskly passing his line of sight toward point be of a task when he will open his eyes and startle her with a croack "mmm ... hey baby." She will turn and, with her most charming smile of the day, chirp "good morning," then rush away before he tries to start the same conversation he had with her before he fell asleep. If she is within his grasp, he will thrust out a limb to block her path and demand affection. Here, the lady faces a choice: bestow said affection and risk being yanked onto the bed's edge awkwardly into a wresting hold to "cuddle" or deny said affection and injure the poor man's delicate ego by stepping around the limb.
He will inevitably have an erection and his bodily contact with the lady will encourage him to press it onto her. Here again, the lady has a choice: try in vain to ignore his noxious morning breath and oblige him or reject the advance and break contact, only to listen to him whine later that night.
Once he finally pulls himself into a homo erectus posture, the man will shuffle, squinting, into the most populated room and smack his mouth, surveying the crowd with bleary, sleep-crusted eyes. He will groan in response to "good morning" and blink with exaggerated motions before making a stiff, uneven walk to the bathroom. Duly relieved, he will continue his stiff shuffling gait to the table, sit in the most comfortable chair, and groggily moan, grunt and groan conversationally before declaring that he is still "not with it" or "just waking up," which is followed dutifully by the complaint "I slept too much."
They're all the same, too, and they behave as though they could never fathom of learning to suppress their cave-dwelling habits in order to please the lady of their dream spaces (despite the fact that every single one of them spends most of his time wanting here there and trying to get her there).
At night, if he does not pass out in a sprawl before the lady, he will ensure to disrupt her thoroughly from her peaceful slumber when clambering onto the bed beside her, eager to mutter to her about all of his daily activities, punctuated diligently with grunted complaints or pointed insistence that the lady respond coherently. He will then thrash about, tugging and shifting the bedsheets about himself and off of the lady, until his pointy sections are aimed directly into her softest ones, or some heavy limb has been bluntly flopped upon her rib or hip bone.
His breathing will become heavy and noisome and he will begin to expel that air from between his lips in small and increasingly loud puffs. These will eventually fade, only to keep odd rhythms in direct opposition to the lady's recovering sleep pattern. The lady will once again drift off, only to be startled awake by the man's hypnotic jerks, and then she will shift to the precipice of the mattress to avoid being jabbed by his pointy bits or crushed by the heavy ones. She will fidget momentarily with the triangle of bed sheet he has left free from his cocooning, trying to readjust her pillow around the trajectory of his, and manage to find a comfortable position. His breathing has quieted and the puffing of air has decreased its tempo.
The lady will close her eyes and begin letting her senses settle when his first snore begins to rumble. Now, the lady must either fall asleep within ten minutes, or try to tune out the unmelodious and off-beat symphony of man rumbling beside her head. If she is able to, she will attempt to turn him onto his side, facing away from her, but if his size too far outweighs hers, she will often be unsuccessful and begin to wish desperately for a pair of suitable earplugs (which are also helpful for plugging the nostrils if you must hold the lips closed with both hands).
It is among this symphony and sprawling lumber of man parts that the lady will, miraculously, fall asleep. She will blessedly sleep through the rest of his noise and dead weight or fidget at regular intervals through the rest of the night, then to awaken and arise before the man.
On a lady's busy day, she will be awake long before the man and she will take this precious time to complete her duties for the day. The man will remain in bed as the air of the bed room grows stale and heavy with the odor of his sleeping. She will be briskly passing his line of sight toward point be of a task when he will open his eyes and startle her with a croack "mmm ... hey baby." She will turn and, with her most charming smile of the day, chirp "good morning," then rush away before he tries to start the same conversation he had with her before he fell asleep. If she is within his grasp, he will thrust out a limb to block her path and demand affection. Here, the lady faces a choice: bestow said affection and risk being yanked onto the bed's edge awkwardly into a wresting hold to "cuddle" or deny said affection and injure the poor man's delicate ego by stepping around the limb.
He will inevitably have an erection and his bodily contact with the lady will encourage him to press it onto her. Here again, the lady has a choice: try in vain to ignore his noxious morning breath and oblige him or reject the advance and break contact, only to listen to him whine later that night.
Once he finally pulls himself into a homo erectus posture, the man will shuffle, squinting, into the most populated room and smack his mouth, surveying the crowd with bleary, sleep-crusted eyes. He will groan in response to "good morning" and blink with exaggerated motions before making a stiff, uneven walk to the bathroom. Duly relieved, he will continue his stiff shuffling gait to the table, sit in the most comfortable chair, and groggily moan, grunt and groan conversationally before declaring that he is still "not with it" or "just waking up," which is followed dutifully by the complaint "I slept too much."