This is going to make me sound like an angry mean wife, but I promise that’s not the case. Cuddling has become much harder for me as the years have gone on. It’s not my attractiveness to my husband that’s changed-it’s the fact that I am constantly being touched by sticky, needy children. While I don’t mind baby snuggles or toddler snuggles, by the time everyone goes to bed I need my own space.
Also, both of those sticky, needy bodies were the result of cuddling. It’s the gateway drug that ends with pregnancy. So sometimes my motto is “Just Say No.”
These are the rules I keep for cuddling circumstances:
- I love the lumbersexual look just as much as the next girl, (Washington chopping down the cherry tree? Yum, I’ll take it wig and all) but there can be absolutely no hair near my mouth. Nothing can spoil a warm snuggly moment more than picking a chest hair from between my teeth. So unless you want to shave your chest, back, neck, and armpits, which I am more than happy to help with, wear a shirt.
- No breathing on my face. If we are towards one another please for the love of Taco Tuesday breathe anywhere but upon my freshly scrubbed and seasoned facial pores. I’ll cover your mouth if I have to-which might technically feel like suffocation.
- The room temperature must be under 70 degrees. I have enough issues during the day with my thighs sticking to themselves. I can’t even hold hands if we’re sweating. If either of us is perspiring even a little and we stick together my brain will probably explode.
- I need to be ‘the enforcer’. This isn’t “use Natalie as lounge furniture” time. Of course, usually when I’m forking you from behind it’s because my extra-wide birthing hips (due to the children you put inside me) feel great stretched like that. If you squeeze the next kid out you can use me as a giant pillow.
- Most importantly: Keep your member to yourself. No suggestive pokes in the back hoping you’ll get somewhere. If my eye mask has already been snapped on you have already missed your small window of opportunity. Actually-if I crawl into bed wearing your high school basketball t-shirt, you can probably count on the fact that the window was more like a wall tonight. Better luck tomorrow.