Meeting You In My Dreams

His green eyes locked with Nikki’s baby blues and felt the low growl rumble in his chest and bounce around her ribs as his sweaty skin caressed her breasts. His hands were strong as he buried one in her hair while he grabbed her chin and brough his lips down to hers in a kiss that left her dizzy. He rocked his body against hers, smiling as she moaned. He opened his mouth to say something and suddenly Nikki woke up in her bed. Her eyes blinked in the soft sunlight flowing through the curtains. Her body still tingled from the green eyed man in her dream. She had no idea who he was, but she had dreamed of him since her body came alive and figured out how a man could make her feel, physically. 

She rolled over and looked at the empty pillow next to her. Her husband, Alan, had left for work already. 

She ran her hands down her body, feeling just how sweaty she was an groaned. She needed a shower and new sheets. She walked towards the bathroom, catching a glimpse of her flushed cheeks in the mirror. She stood there, staring at herself as she compared the green eyed, dark-haired, strong-handed man in her dreams to Alan, his sandy blonde hair, brown eyes, and bearded jaw. She had never dreamt of her husband caressing her or making her quiver in her dreams. A pang of guilt hit her gut.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad marriage. She wasn’t asking for a fairy tale. In fact, the bar was set pretty low as to what she would consider a good relationship. But Nikki couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness and loneliness as she looked at her self in the full- length mirror that stood in the corner of their bedroom. Nikki had been married to Alan for 6 years now. They dated for 4 years before tying the knot. She knew Alan was a good man. She enjoyed his sense of humor. He seemed to care for others. But since getting married, Nikki had been feeling like she was more of a roommate to him instead of a lover. 

Their sex consisted of starting when he wanted to, her blowing him for a few minutes, him lazily pumping inside of her for 30 seconds, and then him rolling off of her and tossing her a towel on his way to the bathroom. It left…everything to be wanted. 

It was clear to Nikki that no matter how sexy she dressed or how she flirted with Alan he didn't notice. Sometimes, she even tried new moves like dramatically bending over in front of him to pick something up that she 'accidentally' dropped or sticking her ass out and curving her back as she stood in front of the stove and cooked their dinners. But he either yelled at her to move because she was blocking the tv or him asking her when dinner was going to be finished impatiently.

Nikki sighed at these memories. It was clear her pleasure wasn’t even on his radar. 

She even suggested getting to know each other as lovers outside of the bedroom. Alan REFUSED to even attempt to understand the fact that there were five different love languages, let alone acknowledge a single one of them into her world. 

Nikki ran her hands down her stomach, wishing it was flatter, like when they first met when they were both twenty-three years old. She shook her hand at the extra ten pounds around her middle and sighed. Comfort weight. She wondered if she got that body back would Alan pay more attention to her? Would it make him show her he wants her? Would it make him grab her around the waist while she cooked dinner and put her on the counter and kiss her til she’s dizzy? 

She shook her head, scattering the fantasies and made eye contact with herself in the mirror. She could pretend all she wanted but she couldn’t lie to her own face. Alan has never been any different than what he is – she’s just realizing how shitty it is after all these years. At first, the strong silent type was something she found mysterious, alluring even. He was rugged and strong and took her on dates where she didn't have to dress up or pretend to be prissy or perfect. She laughed to herself, the sound bouncing around the silent bedroom. She sees now that's because he was cheap and never took her on a nice, fancy date. "Why spend money on food you can cook at home?" He would ask her whenevr she suggested getting dressed up and going out otgether. At first, she felt flattered, taking his words to mean he preferred her cooking. She supposed she could convince herself of anything to remain positive if she wanted to.

She heard him give a yell and jump up from the couch in the other room. The hockey game was on and he probably didn't even realize she was still at home. Everything in her wanted to walk out there, stand in front of him, and ask him why she felt their relationship was in a rut. Demand to know if he felt more for her anymore or if he had lost some of his feelings since their wedding day. He seemed happy on that day, was he still happy to be married to her now? The question made her stomach do a flip. She felt nauseous at the fact that she couldn't predict what his answer would be to that question. What scard her even worse than not knowing what he would say was the realization as she stook there staring at herself in the mirror - did she even care what his answer was?

She shook her head and pulled back the comforter. Nikki wasn't tired. But watching the game on her phone by herself in her room felt like a safer alternative to sitting next to him on the couch, begging, siltently, for him to touch her, to just acknowledge she was there. She knew if she began talking or touching him he would brush her off, grumble about knowing how he feels when she interrupts the game. She'd end up in here crying anyways. May as well skip the middle step and the heartbreak.