Why Do You Share a Bed?
If you sleep in a bed alone (by choice or otherwise) I think you’re onto something.
Sorry if this offends you, or raises your eyebrows.
I’ve been with the same man for over 37 years. He and I are two contented peas in a pod – in separate beds.
Why are your eyes popping out of your head?
I share this information with good intent.
First, a few disclaimers: If you’re exceedingly young and driven like a motor by pleasure hormones, ignore this post. If you’re in a brand new relationship, ignore this post. If proximity to another warm virile human body is critical to your wellbeing, ignore this post. If you’re a spooner who nestles nightly with your significant other in rapturous bliss, ignore this post.
The rest of you, read on!
Here’s the thing. I need space in my own bed. To myself. By myself.
I flail and turn over repeatedly in the night, the “pig on spit” syndrome. Often I blubber or grunt unconsciously into the darkness. Grind teeth mercilessly. Choose and select different body positions as the night rolls on – side, back, stomach.
I sometimes choose the ‘legs straight’ or ‘legs diagonal’ pose. I’m happily and pleasantly physical, noisy, fitful.
My partner also adores and treasures his favourite night rituals. When he sleeps, he lords over the whole bed and frantically grips all the covers. Migrates regularly: scoots in nanoseconds from the far right of the bed, to the far left; repeats. And sometimes when I peek over at him I can’t see him at all; he likes to melt down into the centre of his pod, disappears.
The clincher is his predilection for laughing hysterically in his sleep, as though he’s just been told a hilarious joke. This is annoying and creepy. When I shriek “SHUT UP” to halt his mirth (and stop him, before he blurts out something I don’t want to hear) his laughter mercifully ceases, and then the damn snoring resumes.
Lay someone beside me in my bed, it gets on my every last nerve. I don’t want a person’s leg draped over mine. Cuts off circulation. I don’t want someone’s huge head lolling on my side of the bed. Move! And I surely don’t want to hear loud noises emitting through intricate orifices.
When someone is tossing like a landed fish beside me, they don’t allow me to do my sleep thing. I may waken them with my rumblings. Then I don’t sleep well because of guilt.
There is nothing healthy, intimate or sexy about a chronic loss of quality slumber.
Have you ever really thought about this?
Let me share a tidbit more.
My husband and I recently shared a hotel room. We booked separate queen beds. The limited space between beds was grating. The Spouse’s snoring in that limited space was so decibel rich and irksome that even my trusty earplugs could not filter the sound.
I was awake that whole night. Had enough time on my brain to realize, during the wee hours, that a human’s capacity for diverse wide ranging nocturnal noises is, frankly, astounding.
As if what I’ve already described about my Spouse’s habits were not enough, he also makes clicking sounds at the back of his throat during his snoring regime that send me over the edge. Unless I’m a good distance from the man, the clicking reverberates right through my earplugs, clickclickclick... a slow steady torture.
Next time we stay at a hotel I’ll be packing my double decker fan (white noise) and industrial strength earplugs. The fan will be placed strategically between The Spouse and me, or if necessary, I’ll shove it up right against my ear.
Proper sleep is a blessing, a healthy act, a necessity. It need not be a curse. At home my guy and I enjoy good quality sleep in two separate beds. We jam in earplugs, use fans to drown out emissions. We’re happy, peaceful, content. Free to engage in our favourite potpourri of sleeping idiocyncracies.
If you conclude from this that we have a mundane, boring, loveless marriage, you would be so wrong.
If you’re not sleeping well because your partner is mummified within covers you supposedly share, or has painfully loud late night releases, or snores at levels that rock the room, your health will suffer. Studies prove it. Just observing the wild sleeping habits of your partner could drive you to full bore insomnia.
Treasure and hoard your personal sleep needs, any way you can. Your health may well depend on it.