I’m never one to be ashamed of my non-Alpha nature. I’ve written blogs about how I love Harry Styles and how much I enjoy Netflix Romantic Comedies. This one though… just a splash of shame. Just a little dash of embarrassment. Just a sprinkle of sadness.
But this is the truth, and it’s concerning.
I have become the little spoon in my pillow and I’s relationship.
At first, none of this happened on purpose. I’ve always been a cuddle sleeper. When I was a kid I always had a stuffed animal or two nearby to grasp onto as I slept. Then when I was 11 in an effort to phase me out of “stuffed animals” my parents got me a pillow pet for Christmas.
And then I hit puberty and became aware that if I stayed along this path I’d end up as a grown man with a pony tail, and moved on to pillows without a puppy’s face on them.
So I always have my pillow I rest my head on (usually a relatively flat pillow, just enough to keep my head elevated and comfortable) and then I’ve got my cuddle-pillow, which is a massive goose-feather-filled UNIT.
I’ve cuddled that chubby soft rectangle for years now. I can’t fall asleep without it. Sometimes I’d leave one of my pillows at a friends after crashing on their couch or I’d forget to bring it back to school after going home for a weekend and I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.
I’m so used to sleeping with this specific pillow by my side. We have an established big spoon, little spoon relationship. We’ve been seeing each other for long enough to know that…but then something changed.
In college I lived in a house with 9 other dudes. We are always drinking beer. Watching football. Talkin’ bout chicks. Hunting wolves in the Appalachian mountains on the weekends. Real guy stuff. But now? Now I live at home with my sister. I sleep in the same bed I grew up in. Those stuffed animals I talked about earlier? Still in that room. Instead of living in a house with “RIP Paul Walker” posters, I’ve got wooden signs everywhere that say things like “I Can Do All Things Through Christ Who Strengthens Me”. The other day I saw a video on social media about Scott Disick and Kourtney Kardashian getting dinner together and I watched the whole thing. All 89 seconds of it. WHY? I DON’T WATCH THAT SHOW. WHY WAS I INVESTED IN IT? WHY WAS I FEELING BAD FOR KOURTNEY AND THOUGHT SCOTT WAS BEING A DICK? I DON’T KNOW THEM. WHAT IS HAPPENING.
Most dudes (like 90% of my friends) have a girlfriend or a least a solid girl they’ve been talking to or something who they see on the weekends. Yeah they live at home or they’ve toned down their bro-lifestyle since college, but they get a chance to be a manly man in front of the ladies every once in a while. Me? I’m watching The Haunting of Hill House underneath a knitted blanket on the weekends clenching my pillow for dear life because I’m scared. I have zero game. And that was ok for the summer months, but now? Now it’s cuffing season. And in a fight or flight reaction to the pressures of these few months, I chose flight. In particular, I bought a one-way non-stop flight to Low Self-Esteem International Airport. I’ve accepted defeat. It’s ok. I was content with this decision…until that fateful morning when I woke up in the little spoon position with my pillow.
I didn’t even fall asleep this way. I knocked out big spooning my pillow and then when I awoke it was reversed. As if my pillow flipped me over in the night and said “come on man we know who wears the pants in this relationship”. I’m not even the alpha in my relationship with an inanimate object. That’s a tough pill to swallow.
The worst part is…I liked it. I liked knowing a soft plush object that doesn’t have feelings or thoughts or the ability to move was protecting me. That’s when I knew something was wrong.
It’s almost scary medically. Do I have Low T or something? Can a 22 year old even have Low T? What are the symptoms?
- Hair Loss
- Loss of Muscle Mass
- Increase of Body Fat
- Mood Changes
I might have low T.
What the hell do I do now? Is there any way to stop this?
Who am I, Clark Kent? You want me to exercise AND sleep more than 7hours a night? How doesn’t everyone but like Dwayne The Rock Johnson have low T?
This is the kinda stuff that turns me into a beta. I hear these lofty goals like “try to go for a brisk walk every day” and “don’t eat an entire box of Triscuits and a whole bag of Pepperoni and call it ‘dinner'”, and I shut down. This post itself was emotionally draining to write. So I’m ending it now.
If you can send thoughts, prayers, and black market testosterone pills my way, it’d be much appreciated.