Memory Foam

September 2009 to March 2010-15-2

Not a photo of memory foam sofa.

“But I love you.” She confesses, draping her fresh form across his lap. She pouts with a practiced face. “You would do this for me, if you really loved me.”

Air horn sounds— Let’s pause for one-second, and analyze this situation from person number ones seated perspective. You are pretty cozy right now, sitting on the memory foam sofa. I know. It’s comforting, and hugs you in all the right places. It might even be challenging to see you are being manipulated—but manipulated into what? Jumping out of a plane? Plotting a murder? Flossing your teeth with a guitar string? Getting a chin implant?

It doesn’t matter what this person wants. What do you want? Do you feel like jumping out of a plane? Do you feel like flossing your teeth with a guitar string, and then strangling someone with it? Do you really want to be the guy with the dynamic chin? Or are you just bending over, to make it easier for your loved one to insert batteries in your spine, so they can remote control your life? I know. It’s a lot of questions. The fact you removed your spine, and put batteries in its place makes decisions difficult.

Let’s look at person number two, first of all, take an acting class. Who do you think you are? Justin Trudeau? Secondly, what’s going on? Why do you need to beg? Do it yourself. Whose life is this any ways? Yours. So why do you need to manipulate others? The only life you need to worry about controlling is your own. Take your hand off the joystick on everyone else’s life, and put it on your own.

“Hey Babe, I love you.” She states, bending down to kiss him.

He blinks, and leans into her lips.

Stepping back, she shakes her head and smiles, “You’re looking pretty comfy on the sofa. “I’ll see you later.”

He watches her strut away.

She turns at the door, and meets his gaze. “I’ll be at airfield jumping out of a plane, if you feel like peeling yourself away.”

See my blog post—Jump Already.

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