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Hey Janice, Maybe I Want to Be the Little Spoon

This is not working out for me.
By your boyfriend Brad

Listen, Janice. We need to talk. Every night, when you get into our bed in your SOFFE shorts and pink camisole, you instantly assume the position of the little spoon as if it’s your God-given right. You tuck your little butt right into my ripped abdomen, curl up into the fetal position, bask in the body warmth that I naturally exude, close your eyes, and fall into the best goddamn sleep of your life.

It’s time I stand up for myself. Damn it, Janice. Sometimes I want to be the little spoon.

I’ve tried to change things up in bed. I’ll purposely wait until you’ve gone to sleep before joining you, or not shower after a long workout, or breathe loudly and repeatedly into your ear. But still you stake your claim on the little spoon position like I claimed those football, hockey, soccer, and squash scholarships.

Women already have so much. You get to look at your breasts all day long. You get to experience the joys of childbirth. You just get and get and get. Do you have to take this away from me, too?

Yeah, I know what you’re going to say. “But Brad, I’m 5’3” and 130 pounds. You’re 6’4” and 220 pounds with muscles the size of Australia. That could never work!” What the fuck does that have to do with anything, Janice? Just because I was cursed with the physique of a Greek God, you’re going to deny me my right to be the little spoon? Maybe I want to feel the warm embrace of another human body. Maybe I don’t want to have to conceal a boner every damn night!

You might think that logistically it wouldn't work, what with my being such a massive, built male and you being such a tiny, slender female, but I’ve drawn a diagram to show you that it absolutely would.

Listen, Janice, you’re a cool girl. You smell nice, and you like watching monster truck shows with me. But this is where I draw the line.

P.S. We’re out of bread.
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