We all have weird habits, even if we don’t admit it. Over the last couple of weeks I seem to have developed a new weird habit. And believe me, I have a fair few already. This one, however, involves a pillow. (And no, I don’t do ‘that’ with it.) But I do seem to have got into a strange habit of cuddling my pillow at night. As in spooning it. As in how you’d spoon a lover.
MY NAME IS KATE AND I SPOON PILLOWS.
I know, I know. I am quite aware that, as a 43 year old professional woman, this isn’t going to do my minimal street cred any good. However, I can’t seem to kick the habit. I don’t think I am feeling particularly lonely at the moment – certainly no more lonely than usual.
And as habits go, I guess it beats snorting crystal meth (allegedly.)
Anyway, as with most of my blog posts, I have no idea whatsoever why I am choosing to share this with you, my readers. I daresay you’re not remotely interested, and yet I can’t seem to help myself. You are all learning more and more about my nocturnal habits as each day passes it seems. You know what my bedside table looks like and now you know what I do with my pillow. I’ll have to cancel out the banality of this post by writing about Egypt’s voters backing the new constitution. (Or not.)
It’s a comfort thing. I think we all need to find comfort where we can. I love cuddles with Dexter, when I can get them, but I guess there is no substitute for contact with an adult. I come from a tactile family (on my Mum’s side particularly,) and there is no substitute for a cuddle from your Mum. But when your Mum dies, and you have that void in your life, nothing ever fills it.
When I was at my lowest in my previous long term relationship, I found myself having massages at my local gym, not just because I was tense, but because I just missed human contact. I needed to feel someone lay their hands on me, not in a sexual way, but just to enable me to feel … human. It’s difficult to explain.
There’s nothing more painful in the world than feeling that lonely when you’re actually in a relationship.
Or ….. maybe I am turning into one of those peculiar people who loves objects. I mean really loves objects. Like the woman who had a ‘relationship’ with the Eiffel tower and then made the difficult decision to end that ‘relationship’ … so that she could go out with the Berlin Wall. Or like the woman who fell in love with a rollercoaster. Or the man who has sex with his car. Right up the exhaust pipe! I swear to God I am not making this shit up.
Life is full of weird and wonderful people and I think I probably got off lightly if I just cuddle up with my pillow at night.
There is absolutely no point to this blog post. Apologies.