Dear Elli,
I am not a big cuddler. I realize this is sort of odd for a mom. Being a non-cuddler is not very maternal. But I can't help it. I'm sorry. You'll have to blame God.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm not opposed to a good hug and kiss. Or a few pats here and there. But I don't want another human being invading my personal space for an extended period of time. It makes me feel trapped. Imprisoned, actually. It's really quite irritating.
But, of course, God made you a cuddler. And you insist on cuddling with me. So I try my best to oblige, because I love you. And I know I'm kind of a weirdo.
In fact, as I type this letter, you have your head on my shoulder and your legs in my lap. It's 88° outside. Your legs are sticking to me. And you have a head cold. So you are mouth-breathing into my ear like Darth Vader. How relaxing....
I'm weird. I get it. I realize that most members of my gender thoroughly enjoy cuddling. There's nothing better to them than spooning with a loved one on a Saturday morning. That's cool. But spooning makes my ass hot. And I'd rather remove my left thumb nail with a pair of rusty pliers than lay for an hour in bed with a sweaty ass.
Your Grandma Becky says I'm just like a man. Maybe she's right. I'm a man stuck in a woman's body. More accurately, a gay man stuck in a woman's body. Because I like men. As long as they don't try to cuddle with me.
I love you. And I'm sorry that I don't like to cuddle very much. I try my best. And even though it gives me a nervous tick, I will continue to try. Hell, maybe you're reading this right now while your own kid mouth-breathes into your ear like Darth Vader. Isn't it relaxing?
Mom
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