The media–despite how influential it is on our lives–feeds us a lot of lies. We know that not all our teenagers are using battery acid to get butt-high and not all of our dogs are coke-mules (though mine is a meth dealer). Yet, the media shapes the way we look at our beauty and ourselves and even more fucked-up, it changes the way we look at our relationships.
I have found this relationship destruction via-media in its most disgusting form.
This is how the media would have you believe married couples sleep, in that blissful time before you have kids to fuck up your bed and your home and your marriage:
Look at them, snuggling together and sleeping so peacefully. Why, I bet they fell asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeats after an evening filled with love-making and much wine and cheese eating.
Have you ever slept on your stomach? You know the number one enemy to stomach sleeping? Drooling.
Yeah, it ain’t pretty, but it’s all fuckin’ true. By minute 15 of sleeping in the above position, in real life this bitch would have slathered him in a healthy coating of her own gullet-lube. Romance. Her other arm, the one she has to be sleeping on, is held in one of three places:
1. The Man-iquet: Her arm is under him and now her arm is bloodless and black and dead
2. Dream Nazi: Straight up under the pillow in a salute which will be impossible to untangle and will dislocate her shoulder
3. Mary Kathryn Gallagher: T-Rexed up under her bottom tit and in his armpit, so if she moves she tickles him and then he sleep-punches her.
No one, not anyone at all, sleeps like this for more than 12 seconds.
Even in a stock-photo shoot, where this model is paid to look happy, he cannot hide the grimace of screaming neck agony from his face. He’s caught between lying back comfortably or moving forward onto her, crushing her and also shoving her face in the pillow and putting her out of her own misery of all-white linens. You know what body position he’s taken on for this stupid fucking picture?
The First Aid Recovery Position, designed to keep you from asphyxiating on your own vomit. Magical.
“But NOA,” I hear you cry. “There is a body position where everyone can be happy and still snuggle! Little Spoon!”
Get the fuck out right now. Pack your shit, bring an air mattress, and you get the fuck right out.
Not only do you have to deal with the furnace-back situation that every partner I’ve ever had seems to possess (is their spine an entrance to Hell?), but you have to deal with a phenomenon that no one prepares you for until it happens.
Yes, my friend, this is what I lovingly call the Fart Pocket. You’re laying there all snuggly, trying not to burn to death, and then you feel a whoosh of steamy air round your thighs. Night farts–the uncontrollable, unknowable demon that ruins relationships and very nice sheets.
Two people feel asleep snuggling once and stayed that way all night and do you know what happened to them?
It’s time to stop perpetuating the lies, time to stop pretending that every couple sleeps like this and is happy and has both their arms. It’s just not the truth. It’s time to start showing reality, showing how we really sleep and manage in the real world.