Can’t settle in


Let’s not confuse settling down with settling in. One is an end, the other a beginning. There’s an implied discomfort with settling down, at least for me there is, an implied restricted constriction of blood that flows to the important parts. A little PTSD, trauma induced by expectations labeled security, marriage and tradition.

Let’s look at settling in.

It’s that shimmy of the hips when you are in bed with someone who spoons with you…the movement that can mean a comfort arranging snuggle position or an invitation to full on, full-bloomed love making frenzy…a snuggle that lead to the latter if you are settled in.

It’s that time when you leave the door open, relieve yourself, wipe and wash hands and don’t close the door. That’s settled in. NO. IT’s NOT. Don’t fool yourself.

Settling in is when you move in syncopated harmony in a two-ass kitchen. You know, the tiny kitchen that you have in your first place where there is really  not room for two chefs but it is so romantic to cook together, to cut the onions because they make her cry or simply because you have to have them cut  in a certain way and you know she’ll just butcher them and then your mouth will have to feel small onions and big onions and it will mess with your tastebuds and your whole fucking experience of shared kitchen tasks.

Oh, that settling in…it’s when you make a plan for an 9am yoga practice followed by coffee and you find yourself awake at 6am and fully aware that you have to either roll over and wake him up from a soft, flaccid, non-wet dream moment and make him grow in your mouth and create a major bed-shaking all out crazy morning of love-making where the sheets slide off the end of the bed, the pillows get jammed between the mattress and the headboard and when your alarm goes off at 8 you hit the dismiss so fast that the yoga instructor knows you are not showing up today because you are getting your downward dog on and

That’s settling in.

She figured that settling down was overrated, oddly, she still found herself aiming for it. WTH?


#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.




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