When you lie sleepless in bed at 3am while your husband snores, turning yourself over and away from him until he bolts upright and yells “No!” or “Sure!” or “I know,” and you turn to face him and he falls backward onto his pillow and continues nursing the sleep he’s stealing from you—you wait for him to say something in his sleep that will reveal himself to you, and think about the previous evening’s conversation when you expressed your confusion at this new project of his, writing down thoughts that seem random to you in this shallow, overdone “That Feeling When” style while avoiding work on actual books and essays that you see as his main work and, perhaps more importantly, publishing for strangers these feelings that he doesn’t express even to you, you who have given your life over to this man who sometimes seems determined to keep himself a stranger to you. You want to sleep next to someone who tells his secrets to you and only you, whether asleep or awake. But all you get is the relentless nasal whine of his snoring and his vague, periodic exclamations, while you wait anxiously for morning to come.

What are the Sneaky Feels?

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AuthorJohn Proctor