I’m lying in bed, and I’m watching him sleep, and, as the sun rises and the room takes on a morning glow, he’s driving me increasingly crazy.
He stirs, groans, and flings an arm across the pillow. My need for him to wake grows suddenly stronger.
“Sweetie? Hunbun? Wake up…. ”
One eye opens. He has a sleepy little smile. I must immediately tell him how I feel. I have been lying awake thinking about this for so long.
“Baby – I need you to take off your t-shirt.”
His sleepy smile is quizzical.
“Take it off, honey. Take. off. your. tshirt.”
He looks a little askance, and then a little naughty. He looks like he might be considering playing some kind of hard to get. I need to vocalise my desire, and I need to do it with an urgency that he’ll understand and comply with.
“Seriously, Bobbie, it clashes with the duvet cover something horrible. If you don’t take that t-shirt off and swap it for something neutral I’m never going to be able to get back to sleep.”
I don’t like things that don’t match.
I don’t like them an awful awful lot.