I’ve always been one to romanticize Sunday mornings.
Picture this: You are gently woken up by the sun’s rays spilling into your bedroom and the blue jays hard at work, building their nest in the tree outside your window. The morning already smells like syrup, coffee, and freshly washed laundry. You’re trying to decide between going out for brunch and mimosas, or staying in with a cup of tea on the couch. You roll over to your lover’s side of the bed to face him. You’re reminiscing on last night’s escapades while you watch the rise and fall of his sleeping body. You start to lean in for a quick ‘good morning’ kiss, but without missing a beat, it hits you: morning breath. Your morning breath. Mood killed.
Sharing Sunday mornings were not a thing for me until just recently. In the casual dating world, the chance of seeing a Saturday night going into the next morning were slim to none. Those days were all 3 A.M. Uber rides home, and bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches back in my own bed.
Now that I’m in a serious relationship, I’ve had to accept the harsh sunlight, bare face, and, yes, morning breath that comes with the Sunday after a night of fun. At first, I was wary about waking up after an exciting evening of drinking and touching. For a while, I refused to stay long enough for breakfast, just so I could rush home to hide my face (and hangover) in shame. It took awhile for me to put down my walls and allow my boyfriend to discover that I’m not always the vixen he knows me as after dark.
I wanted to hold onto the feeling of mystery, sensuality, and romance just a little longer into the next day. I knew I had to create this myself, because he really couldn’t care less — he says he’d mack on my bad breath, drool encrusted lips any day.
To keep the romantic mood going, I’ve started taking the time for myself to make Sunday mornings with him less rushed. I slip on a silk robe over my bare body, brush my teeth, and wash the sleep off my face, as he’s doing his morning stretches. We spend a few minutes back in bed to pillow-talk and spoon, until his dog let’s us know it’s breakfast time. As he prepares the pancakes and coffee, I like to prepare myself. Making myself a little more fresh always gives me the extra boost I need for the day. I like to dot a little bit of pink lipstick on my lips and cheeks for a rosy flush. I’ll spot conceal, if necessary, but I don’t add anything else to my complexion. I like to curl my lashes, though, for a sweet, doe-eyed look. By the time I’m done primping, there are two cups of coffee on the table. To the side of the room is my little black dress from last night, that was tossed into a pile on the floor beside his pants. I love finding little clues of us and of our night before, almost as much as I love placing them.
Now, I take my time to melt into the couch with my lover and rediscover our favorite parts of each other, now in the daylight. There’s a full day ahead of us, but we are not worried about what’s to come right now. It’s all about him and I, his hand on my bare thigh, and our Sunday morning coffee.
By Leila Warren, E-Commerce Assistant