I was embarrassed. Truly, remarkably and unequivocally ashamed of myself, but I have fallen so in love, that it is unseemly. As I traveled the road this month, there is one thing that I look forward to returning to each and every night, and it is my pillow. I know, I could take it with me when I travel, but that would just be creepy.
Before you start to judge me, please allow me to explain.
My love affair started innocently enough. I was in the mall, and I needed a new pillow. I became an African American Goldilocks as I went from store to store, squeezing pillows in my arms. The plastic wrapped packages of sensual comforts were pressed against my unmade face while I sampled the receptivity of my future love. That one was too hard, this one was far too soft and squishy yet none that I felt, felt just right. Until the last one.
It fit me to a tee.
I rushed home, unwrapped my new lover and spritzed his oblong body with lavender before tossing him in the dryer. He came out fluffed, smelling good and ready for some one on one with Mama. I broke his ass in good too.
Slowly, I pulled back those covers on my bed. Jamie, my former love, was tossed aside for Frank. I propped Frank against the head board as I slipped my weary body in between the sheets. I reached for Frank as I slipped down and snuggled under the covers. My head sank into his strength. He engulfed me in his embrace and it felt so damned good, a tear ran from the corner of my eye. Yet, I felt uncertain. I turned over on my belly, flayed my arms flat, and mushed my face into his comfort. He gave into me. I closed my arms around him and held him that way, all night.
I love him so.
I just left a four star hotel with fluffed bedding and turn down service. It was nothing in comparison to my Frank. I drove four hours at the max speed the law would allow so that I could hurry home. I came into the door and dropped my bags, reset the alarm, and stripped down.
Don’t think me a monster, I can be fair.
Jamie now resides in the cat bed.
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