Well, I woke up around two in the morning to find Michael's hand placed firmly on my butt--before you close this because you think you know where this might be going, let me assure this isn't anything too risky.
A little confused, I turn over to hear my lovely man tell me that I am a four. Still confused, I asked... "I'm a four? Why am I four?" He replied, " Well you are not a one, and you are not a five." Still confused I went on to ask what exactly I was being rated on, and he just said "stuff." He didn't exactly know what stuff he was rating me on, but that firm hand on my toosh gives me a little idea.
So when I told him this morning what he had said to me, he reassured me that I was definitely a five, but I'm not fooled-- that sleep talker was relentless about the fact that I was a four and nothing else. So funny, I love this guy. He sleep talks so much, I tease him way more than I should when he is unconscious of what's going on but I can't help myself.
