Yes, you may sleep on my sofa, but you cannot have snuggles!
Fine, P, my lovely exboyfriend! You’ve had a bad day at work. You want a quiet drink at the pub, but your girlfriend, Hellspawn, decides to join you, has half a pint and passes out, only to wake up when the crap band starts. Your boss arrives, and wants to discuss why every delivery you made today went wrong. You manage to get the drunken gf home, and, surprise, dinner isn’t cooked. You go to sleep hungry yet again, only to be pounced on at 1.30 by your little Hellcat demanding sex. A fight ensues? How awful for you.
I’m having a pleasant evening, playing in an online cribbage tournament (yes, I do need to get out more) and I get a text message: “May I sleep on your sofa? I’ve had a fight with Hellspawn”. Well, why not? You did one night last week - although technically, you slept in my bed, I slept on my sofa. But you know I’m still in love with you and will say yes.
You manage to get a bottle of wine at 2am. I am impressed. It makes a change from last week when you drank everything in my flat. And I listen to your problems … and listen … and listen … and say all the right sympathetic things, without getting too close, because I don’t want to get hurt by you again.
What? It’s 4am already? I’m knackered, and decide to go to bed. No, of course I don’t mind you looking at porn on my pc. You would whether I minded or not, so go for it.
What more do you want from me? You’ve a place to sleep, wine (yes, we finished yours, but there’s more in my fridge), porn on the pc, music stations on TV … oh, you want snuggles! So wake me up and ask for cuddles and snuggles.
NO.
This is not going to happen, for very good reasons. I am still in love with you. I would like nothing more than to spend the night in your arms. But guess what? Tomorrow night, you’ll be sharing your bed with Hellspawn, and I’ll be crying into my pillow again. Oh, I’m your best friend, and you just need to be held? That’s okay then, let’s go for it, then tomorrow night when I’m alone feeling shitty, I’ll just ring on your doorbell and expect you to hold me all night long. How’s that working for you? It’s not doing a damn thing for me. It isn’t going to happen, is it?
Great, now time for the “might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb” argument. Well, no, actually, since I’m going to run into Hellspawn in the local pub and I’m a crap liar. Besides, although the slut ruined our relationship, I kinda like her, except for her taste in men. We get along now, and I like that as I don’t have many friends in London anymore. Do you feel threatened by our getting along, perhaps?
The final argument as to why we should cuddle was a real winner. “I’m on Librium, I can’t get a stiffy anyways”. I know, I was meant to take that as a challenge and try my damndest to prove you wrong. I was tempted for a nanosecond, but I’m afraid the answer is still NO.
Quit whining. You are not getting cuddles. I’m emotionally fragile enough atm without spending the night in bed with you. Yes, sex would be lovely, but sex is a distant memory right now and best it’s kept that way. It’s been 14 months since Spawn visited her family in Lancaster and you spent the night with me. I don’t need to be reminded how wonderful sex can be with you. I do remember, but in a distant, far in the mists of time sort of way. That is how it’s going to be until Hellspawn is a distant memory for both of us, or until the unlikely event of my finding someone else. 'Cause you’ve really fucked over my self esteem, haven’t you. Well done, you!
You’ve left now. Obviously I can’t sleep, because I’m ranting to strangers and making little or no sense. Are you sleeping on a park bench? Have you gone home to Satan’s little hadmaiden to continue the argument? I am surprised to find I really don’t give a flying fuck. You had the option of sanctuary at my flat, and you blew it. Yes, this should have been in MSWord, printed and dropped through your letterbox, but my damn printer doesn’t want to work, and I can’t email you because everyone and their dog reads your emails.
I’ll give you the link though, and perhaps by reading this, you’ll understand why I cannot and will not sleep with you. I will try to be your friend, but that is all.
It is nearly 6am. Hopefully, I will be able to get some sleep. I’ve got a busy weekend and I must say, you do pick the worst moments for your crises. My exhusband is visiting from Holland on Tuesday and the flat is a tip. He and I need to have a serious talk about what to do with the damn place. I don’t know whether to stay here, or to move back to Oklahoma to be with my dad. Btw, I’m still upset about my mother’s death, and concerned with how my dad is coping. This is what I mean by emotionally fragile. P, I’ve enough on my plate without dealing with your problems.
Thank you and goodnight.
