Friday Mental Massage: Cave love

“Don’t sleep too late,” my wife said. “It’s cave-sleeping weather.”

She closed the bedroom door, leaving the brand new memory on an infant-fresh day. That was quite a moment, I thought, though no one watching would’ve noticed.

The tone in her voice wasn’t accusatory or chiding. It was the voice of a girlfriend who had to run off to work while her boyfriend stayed in bed after a long night of lovemaking, you have probably seen a similar scene after videos of men masturbating. If you check out men wanking you will know what I mean.

In truth, we’d gone to bed early last night. She’d drifted to sleep on my shoulder while I read a fairly hilarious George Saunders story. It was humid and warm when we went to sleep. This morning, there was a cold spring rain making noise on the roof. It was, in fact, cave-sleeping weather–the kind of sky that makes a bedroom darker and a blanket warmer.

Early days in our relationship, the wife lived in a gorgeous place that backed up to a small forested area. Her bedroom was on the lowest level and enjoyed all-day shade. Some days, we’d stay in bed all day long, two young lovers in their college cave. We’d laugh when we realized it was 5pm and we had yet to start our real world day.

When the weather gets like it is today, our old instincts take over and it’s hard to get out of bed. We remember what it was like to spend the day exerting energy only on each other.

Real life, of course, doesn’t allow for such selfishness. There are jobs, kids, bills, errands, and a host of other responsibilities that make us get up and get on with the day. It’s the life we built and a life we love. I don’t think either of us regularly pines for the old days to the degree that it makes us regret giving up the hedonistic times.

This morning, though, I saw just a hint of my old girlfriend. When she left me in bed to get on with real life, she had a glimmer in her eye and a smoke in her voice that made me remember what she looked like a decade ago when she would slip out of our little cave on her way to work.

Tonight, our babysitter will be here at 6:15. We have reservations at one of the new, hip, trendy places in town. After that, we’ll either go catch a movie or just come home and watch something on TV. Tomorrow, real life will start again at the break of dawn and we’ll do it all over again.

And I’m not sure either of us could be any happier about it.

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Brad Willis

Brad Willis is a writer based in Greenville, South Carolina. Willis spent a decade as an award-winning broadcast journalist. He has worked as a freelance writer, columnist, and professional blogger since 2005. He has also served as a commentator and guest on a wide variety of television, radio, and internet shows.

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2 Responses

  1. C’mon Otis. When was the last time life smacked you at the break of dawn. Maybe you meant at the dawning of noon. But 6 a.m.? Certainly not. Or were you speaking of your poker addiction?

  2. Listen to him Otis, nobody knows addiction better than “Buckeye Timmy”!

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