My bed is quite sensual. Adorned with a silky grey satin coverlet that begs to be touched. In addition, it provides front row seating for my stripper pole that stands in the corner of my bedroom. The ambiance is an exquisite fusion of masculine and feminine. Complete with sandalwood candles to fill the room with an exotic aroma. Setting the stage for nights filled with erotic encounters. The kind that you can only dream of. Because I'm already asleep.
Sure, I have good intentions of lighting those candles for a romantic evening. You know, reading one of the books stacked on my nightstand by candlelight. But, when my head hits the pillow it takes me all of a whole entire minute before I fall asleep. With the blankets tucked in around me like a cocoon. That is, until my husband brutally rips the sheets and blankets out from the end of the bed. What kind of a psycho does that? Because when the blankets aren't tucked in, my whole night is spent adjusting the blankets so they cover my whole body as I toss and turn. Then my husband wonders why I steal the covers. I steal them in self defense. Because I'm freezing, dammit. And obviously it's all his fault. Because if the blankets were tucked in, I wouldn't need to clutch them for dear life to prevent frostbite. Plus, he always complains he's too hot in the night. So really, I'm doing him a favor.
Sleeping together is one of the worst things for a marriage.
Really, who came up with the absurdly overly romantic notion that couples sleeping in the same bed is a good idea? And why do we still do it? (By "it" I mean sleep and not the other "it", obviously.) It's unnatural, I tell you! When I was little both sets of my grandparents had not only separate beds, but separate bedrooms. Which seemed weird to me when I was little, but I totally see the brilliance now. I wouldn't have to listen to my husband snore. And he wouldn't have to get my elbow jabbed in his side until he finally rolls over. Which again, is all his fault. It's pretty simple, if you don't want me to physically assault you in the middle of the night, don't assault my ears by mimicking the sound of an oncoming freight train.
I'm not claiming that I'm so great in bed. But, I do have to admit, sleeping with me wouldn't be a disappointment. I stay on my own side. I don't snore unless I have a cold and then come on, who doesn't? I'm not a sleep talker or a sleep walker. And I don't grind my teeth. Although, I do clench my teeth when I sleep, leaving bite marks. But the marks are on the inside of my own cheeks, which doesn't effect anyone else. Also, how weird is that? Ok, don't answer that. I do have this charming little thing that I do in bed though. I rock my body back and forth slowly. And It drives my husband crazy. I don't know why, you'd think it would be soothing, right? Like I'm rocking him to sleep or something, but no. Apparently, it's kind of annoying. Just like when I have to get up in the middle of the night to pee or to go downstairs for a 2am juice box, hoping that I don't get the box with the missing straw.
So, do we get a divorce for irreconcilable sleep differences or can this marriage be saved? We'd have to wait until the kids leave home to have separate bedrooms. And then I guess we'd have to separate the kids' bunk beds to make that work. But, moving up into a king size bed would give us more distance from each other, which would actually probably bring us closer together. Come to think of it, it would make the perfect Valentine's Day gift to each other too.