Page 120 of The Fed Sex Man

Tyson

I pushedmy hand against the pillow, paused, and then lifted it. Slowly, it took its original shape. “Seems weird,” I said. “It doesn’t pop back into shape. It’s really slow.”

“Yours are crappy. I don’t know where you got them or how long you’ve had them, but we need to replace them.” She nodded toward the pillow. “That is how a pillow is supposed to be.”

It was my first pillow shopping excursion. I let out a dreadful sigh. “Okay.”

“How long have you had them?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“They say you should replace good pillows every eighteen months. Crappy ones, every six months.”

I laughed to myself. I hadn’t replaced my pillows since my father passed. In fact, I hadn’t changed anything since his death. I still had the same dishes, the same furniture, the same bedding, and the same everything.

Fearing repercussion if I admitted it, I gestured to the pillows in question. “Let’s get these, then.”

We’d spent the last several weeks alternating nights at each other’s homes. Most of Jo’s nights in my home were spent sleeping without a pillow. After her first complaint, I agreed to replace the old pillows with new ones. If it took pillows for her to feel comfortable in my home, I’d fill it with them.

“It’s probably why you pop your neck all the time,” she said.

“What is?”

“Sleeping on those awful pillows.”

“They’re not awful.”

“They’re polyester, and they feel like they’re a million years old. Your shoulder’s more comfortable.”

“Should we get bedding, too?”

“Can you afford to?” she asked. “I can pitch in. I don’t mind.”

I didn’t make it known, but the wrongful death settlement I’d received from the Sherriff’s department set me up for life. Inheriting my father’s investments were icing on the financial cake.

I’d taken the job at FedEx for one reason only – because it exposed me to horny housewives. Horny housewives minimized the chances of someone falling in love with me. Servicing the women on my route left my evenings and weekends free. The decision to take the job was a no-brainer.

I now felt like a douchebag for ever thinking it was a good idea.

“I can afford it,” I said. “Let’s pick some out.”

An hour of paisley prints, chevron patterns, and floral designs later, and we still hadn’t made a decision. Shopping was definitely a girl’s passion, but I couldn’t imagine Jo doing it without me. One of the many sacrifices I expected I’d make to spend a lifetime with her at my side.

“I can’t decide,” she said. “I like them all.”

“Maybe pick two,” I suggested. “And we can rotate them.”

Her eyes beamed with excitement. “Can we?”

I wanted the home to be ours. It was my first step in that direction. “Sure.”

My commitment to buy pillows and bedding somehow morphed into bed sets that included big pillows, small pillows, overstuffed pillows, slender pillows, round pillows, and pillows that were actually pillows. In fact, we’d purchased so much bedding that taking it home in my car wasn’t an option.

Four hours later, as the delivery truck backed into the driveway, Jo jumped from her position on the couch and ran across the living room.

Brimming with excitement, she stood in the doorway with her hands covering her mouth. “I can’t believe it’s here.”

“They said they’d bring it before six,” I said. “How can you not believe they’re here?”