Boris and my bed

A-Sexy B is for Bed

Boris and the Bed.

As I write this I’m on my bed. I spend a lot of time in it, on it and thinking about it whI’m away from it. Like chocolate it is a relationship that can never be broken and has lasted longer than any man. My bed is good to me.

I remember when we first met. Ordered from John Lewis I was stunned to find that it didn’t come assembled or at least with men that made magic happen. But no, the delivery man told me that it would take a couple of hours at most for me to assemble the bed. Half a day later and close to tears I was finally able to make up the bed and rest my weary body. So you can see that this bed, yes this bed is very special to me.

Back to sex etiquette. First of all why do men assume they are sleeping over and if so in your bed? I have a perfectly good sofa bed for guests. This always pisses me off because I do like to starfish across the bed and have my electric (lekky) blanket on full blast. Now instead I have to fight for the duvet and bum space? Nah dude, that’s not a good look. Go home!  I may have to impose a dating drivers only policy from now on because sharing a bed with what is essentially just a shag is never fun. You have that awkward “do we cuddle” thing. Note – no we do not cuddle. Stick to your side of the best, the one against the cold hard wall and you won’t get hurt .

This is all Boris Johnson’s fault.  I have a theory that sexual relationships are accelerated in London simply because the tube stops at a ridiculously early time. The other major problem is that some men love to hang around to improve on their last mediocre performance. Or for that morning glory. Then we have the joys of contending with work, bad breath (despite the strategically placed tooth brush some morning breath takes at least 45 minutes to dissipate and I don’t do breakfast for mediocre), and bright lights. We both look better in soft lighting or after a few drinks. Let’s not kill the magic .

The etiquette is that sleepovers only happen on the initiation of the host. Do not assume sleepover rights without being asked. Put a little aside for that cab.  If you are a guy hosting you must give at least 3 hours’ notice so she can pack the crap for the next day. If you are a girl you can decide after round one. Normally if it’s not worthy of repeating this is the point where you start talking about your meeting the next morning and needing your 8 hours sleep. One guy who wasn’t getting the hint and had brought a big bag was starting to get on my nerves so I asked him what time his last train was. He wasn’t sure so I jumped online and checked trains to Bromley. Luckily we had more than enough time for him to get to Victoria. Yes, I had to put up with a 10 minute sulk whilst he got dressed but after that shoddy performance he wasn’t breakfast worthy.

Hmmmm, from now on I’m going to make the buggers take a Boris Bike home.

Happy Bedding!

© Chelsea Black A-Sexy


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