Man on Fire

There's nothing better in this world than a woman. They're intellectually stimulating, comforting, sexy, and to a much less important extent, they give us life. Sure, they might have a few quirks that usually accompany them; like getting way too mad about leaving the toilet seat up and drinking straight out of the half gallon jug of Simply Orange OJ that's chilling in the fridge, but they're generally worth the occasional inconvenience. Another common complaint that you might have to deal with is that they might bitch about the cost of using AC even if you can afford the expense and live in the middle of the Mojave desert. To be fair, I think this has more to do with their inability to conduct heat than anything. Seriously, I've been profusely sweating in bed and have had a ground fan on that was facing the wall in the spare bedroom and I've still been beaten down by a barrage of bitching. I swear to Christ, I could force feed them habanero peppers, wrap them in Saran wrap that was coated in IcyHot and roll them into a sauna and they'd still find a way to nag about how the fan that the neighbors have on is really unnecessary. I don't know if it's the Norwegian in me or what, but I start to sweat the instant the temperature goes above freezing. Seriously, if the standing water in the room isn't ice, my balls start condensating like a cold Mr. Pibb that's been left in the Summer sun. That's why I don't understand cuddling. It's one of my biggest complaints about the fairer sex. I've never been curious to feel what it's like to touch the surface of the sun, so why do women seem to want to analyze that unnecessary data? Honestly, I'm not a fan of friction-less heat, so please stop essentially microwaving my manhood by placing the entire weight of your upper body on every inch of my exposed skin. I tend to enjoy sleeping more than I fancy feeling like I've been doused in kerosene and tossed into an Easy-Bake Oven.

I understand the cuddling after sex aspect of a relationship. You tossed us a proverbial bone and we're going to accommodate you by pretending to be emotionally invested. That's called compromise. What I don't get is the Jiu-Jitsu arm and leg lock that we have to be in for them to be satisfied. I enjoy the acrobatics of Cirque Du Soleil just like any other red-blooded American. I just don't need to re-enact it while sweaty, naked and not having sex.

I'm not necessarily saying women are terrible for wanting to cuddle, but it impacts my sleep and subsequently makes me act like a dick to every single human being that I'm forced to interact with for at least two days afterwards.
What's the solution here then? It's called holding hands, hugging and tossing your arms around each other when your coherent. It'll be much more satisfying to be aware of each other's affection than it will be to chance being irritated by it. I don't want to be ripped out of my REM cycle because you had to scratch your ass at 3am. What I want is to be loved, and presumably that's what you want. That's why caressing one another while conscious is such a monumentally productive courtesy. The appreciation for one another will go up ten-fold. Furthermore, no one will harbor any ill-will and we'll all be a little more well-rested and presumably respectful towards all those around us the following morning.