Hello bedfellow. Hi there.
You’re rather wonderful, aren’t ya? Yeah, thought so. In many, many ways – handsome, charming, witty, kind, with the correct amount of limbs – you’re my ideal partner in crime. Innit.
So, sometime mattress companion – here’s the rub – and not ‘rub’ in a GOOD way, like neck rub or, erm, clitoral rub – why oh why oh WHY oh why the fark do you snore?
Hmm? Why? WHY?
What is this snoring that occurs? Is it you? Or is it some malevolent creature that squats beneath your side of the bed and pretends to be you? I cannot believe that such noises would emanate from your gorgeous head. The guttural rasping of nightly beasts! Ack, how it dost haunt me!
I know I am not without nocturnal disadvantages. I have been known to sleep-walk, sleep-talk, and sleep-punch-people-in-the-tits. I do also snore, yea verily, especially if my sinuses are compromised by the creeping and deathly mucous. But not ALL THE FARKING TIME. Not each night. No siree, cap’n.
Now we are voyaging on this ‘special friendship’ cruise, I am anticipating many a night on the deck beneath the stars, if you get my slightly vague meaning. I do not want the moment ruined by an errant narwhal rising to the sea’s surface and bassooning into the ether. What the fark is narwhal anyway? *googles it* Wait – is that what’s beneath my bed? Is that why my bedroom SMELLS OF FISH? I thought that was me. FFS.
Crikey, I digress. Dear bedfellow, darling man o’mine, you exceed expectation in all areas, be assured of that. I cannot stress this enough.
I just can’t farking sleep with a snorer.
Short of spending the darkest hours asunder, what can we do? I want to wake refreshed and in yer arms, not frazzled and churlish after a night listening to your nasal song-singing.
Much love from downstairs on the sofa at almost midnight,