Snuggle Buddy Cuddling or I Want You to Hold Me Until I Fall Asleep or Make Me Feel “Fail-Safe”

What about it?

I wonder of it.

There is something that happens when you look over at a person and it stops your thoughts. I know—it’s happening right now. The way you lose your momentum mid-sentence, the way you squirm—the way you sit still. The way you have to admit, to someone, out loud, that you:

“Can’t remember where you were going with whatever you were saying,” or thinking, or doing. Poetic right?

It’s what I like to call fail-safe. But it’s actually the opposite.

It is when you are lying on your stomach , reading, writing, thinking, yes, lying down next to someone and they softly place their hand on the top of your thigh and dozens of sparks begin blinking inside your bloodstream and all you can think of is if there was ever anything better. It gives you the illusion that all in the world’s alright and cannot fail. That all is safe and well.

Makes it easier to dream big enough to fail in the morning—I’ll tell ya.

Then there’s this armor. I’m guilty—I wear it—that I don’t need sentiments. That I don’t need little love notes, white chocolate-covered flowers, concern and compliments. Fine, I’ll do without, at least as long as I can. But when it’s right, like not—left, like ball bouncing from court to court, tickles when I’m smiling—right… the one thing I can’t seem to fall asleep without is, the cuddling.

To be forced to sleep without cuddling, is the cruelest most unusually awfully-painful and saddening punishment no one deserves! I mean drink the last of the soymilk without saying anything, but do not refuse to snuggle with me before we fall asleep!

Yes, I want him to hold me like we are teleporting into another dimension, and if we don’t hold tight enough one of us might get left-locked into another year. Yes, I want him fiddling up my back, hands upside my thigh. I want him to hold me, at the very least, until I fall asleep. And if it gets too hot, I understand. But if it does not, I want him to understand that I look forward to it like Lucky Charms and Tetris.

I want to open my slow eyes to his hands dancing along my pantiline, his breathing medium hovering my neckline, his body heat ingeniously saving me from needing the extra space heater.

So, how does it feel guys, do you like to snuggle?


I need intimacy!


I have been exposed to so many unhappily married people. I feel as though most of the time society (like fashion trends, fancy cars, or skinny women) gives people the impression that getting married is what they should do, or should force themselves to like, or should stay in even though they’re unhappy.


I think one of the most important prerequisites to marriage or relationships is not sex (really it’s not!), having things in common, trust, or even friendship… it’s intimacy. Intimacy meaning: having someone who is particularly interested in what you are about, your goals, someone who studies you so carefully (but comfortably! Keyword: COMFORT not overbearing) that they can predict the way you work, rather than just end up working with you.


Intimacy doesn’t just mean “pillow talk” or “spooning” before bedtime: but understanding that people make choices and choose to be in relationships, or choose not to. It means that they aren’t in relationships for the sake of not having to worry about what it’s like to be alone, or worry of not finding anyone better than the loser they’ve got, but intimacy in a way that means you love someone on an intimate level of value, not because they make you a better person (although that is erhm erh erhm great) but because they constantly better themselves as better people and they share knowledge, thoughts, and additionally all of the essential properties of marriage as well. They’re specialists in you who wouldn’t rather be flipping burgers. They are present and strive to stay present at all times in the relationship. That is intimacy. Many people do not understand.

Picture from a wonderful poetic prose book by Eula Biss: The Balloonists
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