Nothing says “sexy beast” like a dude in a CPAP mask.
Just ask me.
I mean, at any given point of the day I have multiple people comment on my sexy goodness, but check me out in the middle of the night when I’m all nose-hosed and compressurized. The sight of me when I’m all CPAPed-up would turn any women to a state of weak-kneed, wanton lustfulness!
Just ask the wife.
Yeppers, CPAP has been the best thing to happen to my love life since… I mean the intimacy level in my bedroom has… well, uh, when the mask goes on, the romance…
Crap.
Who am I kidding…
Wearing a CPAP has helped me sleep better, and that’s it. It has not been at all helpful in the hanky-panky department.
My life has been filled with self-doubt and low self-confidence. I didn’t date in high school or college because I couldn’t expect some poor girl lose all self-respect for herself by being seen in public with me. I kind of assumed that a kiss from me might actually turn the girl into a toad. After college, I was lucky to meet the woman who is currently my wife. She seemed to like me well enough, and she didn’t have any major issues with being seen in public with me. She didn’t turn into a toad. So, even with her glaringly obvious mental condition, I married her.
Now, in addition to being a rather unsightly fellow, I snore like a mother. Yep, always have. Roommates in college cringed at the thought of sharing a room with me. If I had a dollar for every pillow thrown at me in the middle of the night, my wealth would put Warren Buffett’s to shame. My wife, bless her, put up with it for more than a decade before she could take no more.
So, I have the sex appeal of Quasimodo, a snoring ferocity that would silence a caterwauling cat, and the love-making skills of a zombie on crack. Yes, my wife is a lucky lady.
I figured that if I reduced one of the many negative traits that make up — you know — me, maybe I could score some points with the wife. You know, increase the frequency of the cracked-out zombie lovin’ just a bit. Then I realized what the wife was looking at on the opposite end of the bed every night and morning…
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… and I realized that my previous thoughts and motivation were somewhat deluded.
Damn it.
Not only is a CPAP more effective than a chastity belt, it’s hella expensive to maintain. My CPAP contraption is made by Philips. You know, the light bulb people. Apparently Philips isn’t raking in quite enough money selling light bulbs, because they try to rape you on the price of one of their CPAP machines. I mean, seriously… A CPAP machine is little more than a reverse vacuum cleaner that blows instead of sucks. It’s got some kinda brain that registers when to blow and when not to. My Droid X phone completes a hell of a lot more complicated tasks than my CPAP machine, but the Droid X cost a small fraction of what that stupid Philips thingie did. Plus, I don’t have to buy outrageously priced replacement parts for my Droid X. This little gasket thingie (I believe it’s referred to as a “cushion” in the screwlicious world of CPAP) costs $65:
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Seriously… 65 freaking dollars for a little piece of rubber. And, you wanna take a wild guess at how long that little sucker lasts? About a month.
Yeppers, one solitary month, or as they stay in China: 一個臭烘烘的一個月.
After about a month, the piece of crap starts to leak. So, with the payments on the machine (we rent… ’cause that’s the way our insurance rolls), the monthly “cushion”, and the other cheaply made, outrageously prices parts and pieces that need to be purchased for this sucker on a regular basis, my CPAP therapy costs a small fortune every year to maintain. I don’t know how people who aren’t on decent insurance can afford something like this (unless, of course, they are in that stupid 1%); oh wait… they can’t. People who are uninsured or have crappy insurance get to die early because they can’t afford to treat their sleep apnea. Well, we’re all better off without them, right? Don’t believe me? Just ask the 1%.
Oh sure, my sleep apnea is somewhat under control now. I sleep better at night. My wife sleeps better at night. But, I will freaking look like this every night for the rest of my life:
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Bet you’re gonna have nightmares now, aren’t you? I do, and I’m sure the wife does too…