I’ve been sleeping in the living room for the last few weeks. On Saturday, I woke up a 3AM and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I’m a man, with manly needs. I climbed the stairs to the bedroom. I was naked. I pushed open the door, my body tense with want. I slid into the bed. Sophia woke up.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
I didn’t care if she protested. I was getting what I came for, even if I had to take it with force.
“No one’s hugged me in a month.” I said. “Do you know how unhealthy it is for a man not to get hugged? I read that male babies — if they don’t get hugged after they are born — just die.”
“You were supposed to have moved out already.”
“I am moving out. But do you really want me to die?”
“You’re not a baby who needs to be hugged. Well… maybe you are.”
“If you don’t want to hug, I can just go back downstairs. I know plenty of hot women who will give me a hug on Facebook.”
“OK, shut up and I’ll hug you.”
“But will you set up Dance Dance Revolution on the wii tomorrow?” she asked.
(in retrospect, the hugging may have not been a good idea, considering the argument the next day, after neither of us could figure out how to use Dance Dance Revolution)