Toys … for boys!

Toys … for boys!

We have a new play-toy in the bedroom and it’s been a long time coming.  Prior to its arrival, I had many nights where I was tossing and turning in quite an agitated state.  And I’d wake the next day, cantankerous from not being satisfied.  What’s a woman to do?

I love my Partner-in-Crime, but he was sleeping quite soundly, blissfully unaware of my angst. I was being deprived of one of my fundamental needs … wants even.  I wanted it.  And I wanted it often.  At least once a day.  I didn’t care how early we went to bed; I was always ready for it.  I even enjoyed it in the morning; long and leisurely was perfection personified.  And the afternoons were just made for it.  The joy of sneaking back to bed, snuggling under the covers, letting the mind wander to wonderfully pleasant pastimes … heavenly.  I didn’t need pills and potions to help me get into the zone.  I was always up for it.  More than up for it.  I craved it with an insatiable passion.  However, I wasn’t receiving the satisfaction I needed.

The result … a tetchy disposition, not even a good cup of coffee would remedy.  And I mean the coffee I adore, made lovingly by a professional barista rather than the instant bland blend P-i-C would devotedly bring me, totally unaware of the misery I was in.  He was bouncing around, trying to get me fired up for the day … places to go and people to see; he just didn’t get it.  I wanted to be in bed, and definitely without an audience!

The physical stress on the body of dealing with this issue is well document.  Not to mention the mental anguish which builds up over time.  It is undoubtedly a difficult sensation to describe.  You love the person who is sleeping next to you; dearly adore him.  However, at the same time, you sometimes had an overwhelming impulse to smother him with his own pillow until his groaning and whimpering died away with his last exhale.  Does it seem cruel to vividly picture this in my mind, like a scene from Criminal Minds or NCIS?  And grin with evil intent while imagining it?  Okay, so I needed therapy … obviously.  But that was the state I was in; a dark place.  But not the dark place I wanted to be in.  Definitely not in that space at all!

And, I’m not sure being incarcerated in either an institution for the mentally challenged or for the mentally evil would provide me with that I so longingly desired.  Or, certainly not in the way I wanted it.  I can’t say I know what it’s like, first hand, to be in either of these places, I hasten to add, and I’d rather not find out.  Not at this stage in my life, with retirement on the doorstep and lots of travelling to do … when the world rights itself again.  I’ve had enough of lockdowns and these two are not top of my Bucket List priorities. 

So, what could be done?  I made an appointment with our doctor.  For him, my P-i-C, not me.  He was the one with the problem.  Though I did have a problem with his problem.  But I didn’t need a doctor to tell me the solution.  I already knew the answer.  I just wasn’t getting enough of it.  That was the problem!  Not getting it, in the amount that I required, or desired.  Or both.  Until P-i-C fixed his problem, I couldn’t fix mine.  Well, I could … but it wasn’t the result I was looking for.  We required a long-term resolution for a long-time problem; preferably with rapid results to ease the rapidly-deteriorating empathy for P-i-C by his now less-than-sympathetic P-i-C!  I’d had enough. 

Well, obviously not enough of what I wanted, but of what I got in the bedroom.  The thing I didn’t want to happen was happening.  And I wasn’t impressed or pleased in the slightest.  The doctor sympathised with me.  Apparently, lots of P-i-Cs complain about it.  Cold comfort when what I was really hoping for was an instant fix.  He, the doctor, didn’t have it but he did give us a referral to a specialist.  Well, he gave P-i-C the referral.  I would tag along to make sure he, P-i-C, gave all the correct details, and explained my dilemma as well. You know … I wasn’t getting enough.

The upshot is, after months of waiting, things are sort of back to normal in the bedroom.   I am satisfied.  I am waking up refreshed and with a smile.  It’s totally amazing how something so small can have such a big impact.  How one little thing can change your whole world.

I might be sleeping with Hannibal Lecter but it’s worth it!  It’s much, much better than the alternative.  All I can say is … every breath you take, I’ll be loving you.  CPAP, you’re my hero!

Good night, sleep tight, and sweet dreams … Zzzzzzzz

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