u/Vivid-Feeling-5543

I’m not usually the type to do this sort of stuff, but I’ve got to get this out. It’s my boyfriend. It’s not that he’s doing anything wrong. I guess this is a kind of beige flag thing? I don’t know. Which is why I’m talking about it here. He just doesn't cuddle me at night. I feel like doing it is a completely normal thing, but he’s always got some excuse.

“I don’t sleep very comfortably on my side.” so we swap positions.

“My arm goes to sleep, and it's uncomfortable.”  We get a special pillow that his arm can slide under.

He’s never like, unwilling to try something, but regardless of what we do, once he thinks I’m asleep he turns back over and just leaves me alone? Again, I guess he thinks I’m asleep, and what’s the difference if I’m asleep, but it still hurts. Which, like, I don’t know if that’s fair or not? Anyway, he’s got this cat right? He had her before we started dating. I’ll wake up, he’s not cuddling me, but he is snuggling with the cat. I just feel like, shouldn’t I matter more? Oh suddenly it’s not uncomfortable to sleep on your side? He claims it just “happens in his sleep,” but then he could spontaneously cuddle with me. Like, I feel crazy. Why does it feel like the cat matters to him more than I do? I don’t know, he says he’s just trying to take extra good care of her because she’s older. If she’s “on the way out” sometimes I just wish she’d go. I know that’s awful, but I swear our relationship would be better without that fricking cat around.

TLDR: Boyfriend’s beige flag - snuggling his cat at night instead of me.

Update: Thanks for all the replies! Stuff has been a little hectic around here so I haven’t really been able to give any news on this. Unfortunately, Houdini passed away, she’d taken a turn for the worse recently and we’ve been dealing with that. My boyfriend has been pretty despondent, but I’m looking out for him. One silver lining in all of this, he’s been A LOT more snuggly at night. I just wish he could’ve figured that out before she had to go. Again thanks for all the support, and I really do think we’re doing better. He’ll be okay, I’m here for him.

Rivulets of blood slid down my arm, joining their brethren before dripping off my fingertips in scarlet beads. My nail slipped into the flesh just above my hand.

Eighty-one.

I ripped my fingernail out of the wound, leaving a jagged crescent in its wake. Only to jam it back into the next identical mark along my arm. The freshly opened wound spurted its own contribution to the growing pool of my lifeblood on the floor.

Eighty-two.

I could barely feel the pain anymore. I hope it's not due to lack of blood.

Eighty-three.

I abandoned the thought, This was the only way. Can’t stop now.

Eighty-four.

In and out up and down, that’s what makes the world go round

Eighty-five.

At this point, the mental count was more for fun than anything. It was better than being bored.

Eighty-five.

A flash of pain this time. The already angry and swollen meat spat in protest.

Fuck, seven always hurts.

The wound was larger than the rest, maybe because it was the oldest. I hadn’t figured out how to do it right yet.

Eighty-seven.

For a single moment my count was off. My heart rate spiked. I wasn’t sure if I started bleeding faster, but I could imagine it.

Eighty-eight.

I looked at my mangled arm. Ten weeping crescents spanned the limb. What was the point of all of this, if I was just going to lose the count?

Eighty-nine.

Then again… My nail was still in the right slot. I would have noticed. I would have.

I pulled my nail away from the top of my forearm, and placed it back in the slot just above the back of my hand.

Ninety.

I don’t think anyone else has noticed yet. If they have, they’re not copying me.

Ninety-one.

We tried all counting together for a while. That stopped when people’s voices started giving out. Couldn’t risk it.

Ninety-two.

I looked down the concrete corridor at the remaining slots. One woman had a bald spot I hadn’t seen before. She must have started using hairs.

Ninety-three.

Problem with hairs is how often you rip out too many, or none at all.

Ninety-four, Ninety-five, Ninety-six.

Not to mention eventually, you run out of hair.

Ninety-seven.

I looked down at the pool of blood my own method had spawned. I just had to hope it was something I could handle.

Ninety-eight, Ninety-nine

I flipped over my arm. The grid lines had stayed despite all the blood on the other side. I always worried. I dipped my thumb in the gore of my forearm. Ten lines extended vertically from the corresponding crescents. Three horizontal lines finished a table. I quickly double checked the last marks. I always knew, but the whole point was to check.

Nine, one, four.

I updated the count with two new marks.

Zero, two,

Re-applying a dot to four.

I jammed my thumb back into my forearm.

One.

I should be able to count to 100,000 easily. Hopefully it never goes that high.

Two.

A horrible face appeared at the end of the hall. The monster crouched down so that its eye filled the doorway. It looked like a giant ape, with large tusks protruding from its mouth below its smashed snout. Its booming voice shook the world. My teeth rattled as I examined my arm.

“HOW MANY SECONDS I GONE?!”

In unison, just over a half dozen of us left called.

“FORTY-TWO-THOUSAND-AND-TWO!”

“Oo”

I heard the small voice lagging just a bit from behind me.

Oh no.

“HESITATE!”

The arm flew from the entrance. It took up the whole corridor as it came barrelling towards us. I felt the familiar chill when it passed through me. Followed by an intense feeling of vertigo. I heard a wet squelching. What was at least blood peppered my back and neck. I turned to see the corpse stuck to the wall. Not unlike a fat fly splattered on a windshield on a sunday drive. I collapsed to the floor. Grateful for the reprieve if just for a moment. Rest could be sleep, and sleep was death.

“I GO, YOU COUNT HOW LONG I GONE!”

Just like that, the break was over. I tried to clean the marks on my table, but my mouth had gone dry. It was okay. I could just do it at one-hundred. My nail slipped into my flesh just above my hand.

One.