Things that go bump in the night
The bed saga continues. It broke again, along with my back. Only conclusion I can now come to is that Swedish people don’t have sex, ever. Or if they do, they just lie completely still. Or perhaps they do it in their spas or whatever. In any case, they don’t do it in Ikea-made beds because if they did they would be mostly paralysed.
There we were, doing the bold thing… and not even very energetically, I might add. I know I give the impression that my sex life is all dungeons and sex swings, but we’re partial to a bit of smoochy missionary on occasion. So smoochy missionary was go, and then, all of a sudden… THUNK. Something had fallen off the bed, we thought. A book, or a toy, or whothefuckcareskeepgoing.
Moments later, the arse had fallen out of the bed and I was supporting the two of us with one arm braced against the wall and one bumcheek on the parts of the mattress that remained. He was laughing, I was shouting at him to OMGMOVEWE’REGONNAFALLNOSERIOUSLYIT’SNOTFUNNY.
In retrospect, I suppose I could grudgingly admit that it was somewhat amusing. Parts of it, at least. Not able to put my own socks on the next morning because I’d pulled a muscle in my back – not funny. Watching a naked and very frustrated boyfriend fix the bed and ask me, in a panic, if I was thinking about going to sleep already when I put my nightie on to get back into bed – endlessly hilarious.
He admitted to me later he was all for just moving over to his side of the bed and carrying on. And I’m supposed to be the horny one.
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