Snoring: The Marital Earthquake.
I had a friend true story (Not that I had a friend bit) his wife snored so bad, he started sleeping in the garage. Not the guest room. Not the couch. The garage. Next to the lawnmower. Said it was quieter. That’s not marriage, that’s hostage negotiation.
And snorers always act like they the victim. “I can’t help it, love, it’s medical.” No my friend. That isn’t medical, that’s demonic. You sound like a possessed vacuum cleaner trying to suck up a ghost. I don’t need a CPAP machineI need an exorcist.
And never ever try to wake a snorer! You tap ‘them gentle, like, “Hey love, you’re snoring.” They go, “No I’m not.” WHAT?! You just rattled the windows like Jurassic Park! and you gonna gaslight me in my own bed?
And don’t let it be a new relationship. Oh no. You’re in that honeymoon phase, trying to be polite. She’s snoring like a chainsaw in a blender and you’re just lying there like, “Wow… she’s so… unique.”
But after six months? You’re Googling “how to fake your own death to escape snore prison.”
I swear, snoring is the only sound that can make love turn into legal separation. You start off cuddling, end up filing noise complaints. That’s not romance that’s auditory warfare!
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