New York's Newest Talent

Scene: Re-Boyfriend’s bed. 3am.

He was wrapped up in a blanket cocoon on his own side, not even trying to cuddle, leaving me sprawled out and deliriously happy. Or I would have been deliriously happy had I not actually been asleep for once.

Suddenly he rolled over, knees bent and pointy, jamming them into my side. I woke up to all of his angles jutting into mine.

“Re-Boyfriend, knees.” I pushed them to indicate which knees I meant.

No response.

“MOVE!” I yelled as loudly as my sleepiness would allow.

Still nothing.

If I were given the opportunity to choose one superpower, I would seriously consider either a) not needing to sleep or b) the ability to fall asleep and stay asleep anywhere, at any time, under any circumstances. Shooting fire from your palms is neat, but when would you really use it? (Besides camping, lighting cigarettes and showing off in bars.)

I pushed again, but the knees stayed in my hip bone.

“Knees, knees,” I told him desperately.

It was like I had said the magic word. Re-Boyfriend lifted his head up and belted the line from the Guns N’ Roses classic “Welcome to the Jungle”:

"Shananananana. Knees! Knees!"

He did Axl's screechy falsetto quite well.

Then he rolled over, and continued sleeping. In the morning he remembered nothing.

So alarming.