When you say you slept with somebody, it implies that you boned them. Excuse me, made bone to them. But after the games, a lot of people actually spend the night together, assuming their filthy preferences weren't deal-breakers. The different ways that people literally sleep together can reveal a lot about them. Here are some after-sex positions:
In this position, the man sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door. This is to pre-empt any unwanted visitors in the night. If someone comes in, the man is in a better position to protect the woman. "Not in my town," he tells the intruder. While it represents the final remnants of chivalry in an increasingly self-centered culture, some could regard this position as chauvinistic. (Author's note: If you are sleeping with Sigourney Weaver, you might want to switch sides.)
Sometimes referred to as The Stratego, this position happens when one sleeping partner slowly takes up more and more of the bed throughout the night. Their nocturnal advances eventually result in their taking up the entire bed while the other partner teeters on the edge, often curled in the fetal position. Generally, the canoodler is simply trying to cuddle closer. It is a game of inches. However, this innocuous ground assault can easily be remedied with a counter-maneuver called The Typewriter. If you encounter Operation: Opossum Lurch, wake up when your partner has advanced far enough, then reset them to their initial position on the other side of the bed. Repeat as necessary.
In addition to the sex position, The Missionary is a sleeping position wherein a couple sleeps in separate beds. The Missionary is most common among loveless Catholic couples who refuse to get a divorce. They passive-aggressively annoy each other, removing all pleasure from their worlds with the hope that the other will be so miserable that they leave. Neither does, because it would upset God. Both eventually give up and surrender to living as roommates. Eventually, one partner cheats -- adultery is more acceptable than divorce -- because, hey, they have needs, too.
This is a traditional position favored by affectionate couples. In The Tablespoon, the man wraps his arms around the woman. Like The Sheriff, it implies some sense of protection, with an undercurrent of romanticism. Pretty straightforward stuff.
This is a reversal of the last position in which the woman swaddles her petite man in just the cutest way. He's so adorable, yes he is. She snuggles up to his precious frame, delicately stroking his silky, flaxen locks while he purrs himself to sleep. Good night, sweet prince. You've got a big day ahead of you.
The spooning process has its risks. The Amputee happens when the spooner wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks he has lost an arm. When an arm is curled beneath someone, its blood flow can get cut off and the arm itself falls asleep. With the spooner unconscious, the usual pins and needles pass by. The spooner doesn't awaken until the arm is completely without feeling. At this point, the spooner must use their other arm for desperate succor. The functioning arm grabs the sleeping appendage and hoists it into the air, flailing the limb in a pitiful cry for sensory perception. It is a horrifying, graceless procedure. Hopefully it will be too dark for your partner to see the shame on your face.
Other dangers with limb misplacement appear in Shelob's Web. This position results when bunkmates tangle their appendages in a twisted mockery of comfort. There are two reasons for this. The partners -- lovebugs, really -- genuinely cannot get close enough to each other, so they link legs and knot their arms tightly. Or, the sleepers might have gotten too drunk -- if they're 21+ law-abiding patriots, of course -- and passed out before their pants came off. They fell asleep mid-grope, with their bodies still kinked in whatever bawdy act they thought was a good idea at the time.
Here, the man sleeps alone. His adulterous wife is out at a strobe-lit oxygen bar sweating all over some young stallion who kind of looks like Michael Phelps. For The Cuckold, the man doesn't necessarily sleep in bed. He may substitute a couch, so long as he passes out with his Xbox 360 running and an open can of sour-cream dip on the floor.
This position is reserved for Vietnam veterans or other military members who are haunted by flashbacks every night. Their valor earned them commendations for awhile, but now they suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. Throughout the night, they are constantly torn from sleep, thinking they are still in a foxhole somewhere. It can get dangerous for their partners. The affliction could be alleviated if the government seriously funded Tri-Care, the VA and other veterans' services. But apparently that money is better spent on Sen. Richard Shelby's pork-barrel projects. They're important enough for him to single-handedly hold hostage military promotions to national security posts, so why not military benefits, too? Keep fighting the good fight, senator! Let us know how you sleep at night.