Naps – making lesbians and the world a better place
My lady friend told me over Skype that I looked exhausted and miserable, more than usual. She told me to go take a nap and I responded by trying to shrug it off – tough it out. As I tried to keep my blurred eyes open to see my beautiful lady’s face, something occurred to me – she was right. Why don’t I just take a light nap and continue with my day of staring at a wall? Bro, go take a nap.
Let the record reflect, I am not a nap person. Never could I understand why some of my friends seemed to pencil in nap times as part of a daily regimen. For example, my friend Anne highly values nap time and makes it part of a daily routine.
Anne will often during a conversation tell me how close it is to nap time. She counts the seconds down and then jumps into the sack. Why? Napping is just sleeping, right? I didn’t see the point. Here is Anne’s reason – she has a hot girlfriend for a napping partner. It is apparently part of her lesbian rituals – napping with attractive ladies. She has taken two – three hour naps with upper-shelf women and they all thank her for the nap. It’s quite a racket.
Am I jealous of lesbian napping? Of course I am!
Anne’s demeanor is kind, funny, intelligent and nerdy – she’s a fun person to go gallivanting around with any given day. She embodies the phrase “turn that frown upside down.” Being the avatar of joy requires rest multiple times a day. Anne knows the difference between a Drow and High elf. She knows what a muggle is and knows her way around an XBOX 360. She can talk about Derrida and linguistics. She is a preeminent scholar on the female form. Pokemon and anime – she is well adept in those disciplines of study. She speaks three languages fluently – bump it up to four if you consider talking to ladies a language. All her skills require naps to hone them to a razor’s edge.
Naps – they are part of Anne’s world.
I interrogate her on the napping activities. I want to know what goes on in that bed of hers. Apparently, it involves just slithering into a warm bed and sleeping for a few hours with a gorgeous woman. Nothing sexual, just sleep time with another lady. My mind cannot comprehend the concept of nap time with no sex. I am a guy. If I take a woman to my bed, tired or not, someone is going to get a full long five minutes of steamy romance from yours truly and not some rejuvenating nap. I couldn’t imagine napping with Jennifer Lawrence in my bed. Just a nap? I’d give her full on clams casino (clams casino is a Rhode Island Italian dish of clams with bacon). The day Jennifer Lawrence ends up in my bed is the day you find out she is pregnant with my twins and not refreshed by a nap. Coincidentally, the day Jennifer Lawrence conceives those hypothetical twins with me will also be the day she feels the highest amount of shame in her life.
In the lesbian universe, the code world for lesbian sex is called clams casino (that’s my contribution to the lesbian community). And yet, Anne soldiers on with platonic naps with her fiancée. By the way, her future wife is stunning, funny, good-natured and a very talented artist.
Naps with no clams casino.
I never nap. I like being bitter and cynical. Why would I want to soften up my persona and actually be pleasant to myself and others? I have a reputation to uphold.
After talking with my lady on Skype and using Anne as inspiration, I finally caved in and decided to embark upon a nap. Nap time!
Strategically, I was going to take two hour nap. The plan was to simply put on some quiet music and crawl into bed with my clothes on instead of the usual birthday suit. Upon further reflection, sleeping with sweat pants and a t-shirt was an absolute grand-slam walk-off home run. In Boston they call that a David Ortiz. In Detroit it’s called a Miguel Cabrera.
When I woke up from my nap, I felt the best sensation in the world. I woke up and my body was incredibly warm and limber (as limber as I can possibly be currently). No headache, no body ache, no anxiety, no fuss, no need to break things, no hostility to Republicans nor Democrats. I simply woke up, walked to my shrine to Josef Stalin, kissed his portrait, and went on my day with a smile.