COLUMN: Sleeping with Femininity
I’m married and although I like almost everything about being hitched, there are a couple of things we do as married couples that don’t make much sense.
The one that makes the least sense to me is sleeping in the same bed. This, if you think about it, is usually not a very good idea. My wife is always cold, piling on sheets, blankets, comforters and electric blankets set to the volcano or second-degree burn setting. I, on the other hand, am stripped down to my unmentionables, no blankets and a window open in mid-February and am still burning up.
For those who may not share a bed with their true love and think a lot of cuddling goes on during the night, let me just say there is typically more cuddling done on an NFL line of scrimmage than in a married person’s bed.
It begins with simple things like his and hers nightstands, where you keep your own books, undies and socks and ends up with an impassable line down your pillow-top mattress where the very essence of life hangs in the balance.
There is also the pre-sleep problems. Whenever my wife lies down on our bed, I suddenly find myself turned into Dr. Katz, psychologist for the hormonally imbalanced, where she digs up everything that has been bothering her during the past 20 years, wanting me to listen and be sensitive to her needs.
I, on the other hand, after a long day of work, errands, kids (a list in itself), cleaning, paying bills, arguing over who didn’t pay what bill, maintenance on the house, laundry, community or church service, dinner, taking out the garbage, feeding the pets and a little personal hygiene, want to do one of two things when I go to bed, sleep or get some action, period.
One of the last problems with sleeping with another person is that of the misconception of what happens in the morning. Many television shows and movies paint a picture of a couple waking up, looking beautiful and perky, hair perfect and skin flawless.
Although my wife is a natural beauty and actually wakes up looking quite good, I tend to wake up with a full beard – being half Sasquatch, dark bags under my eyes, an imprint of my 4-year-old daughter’s foot on my face (because she snuck into bed with us during the night) and my hair doing its best pterodactyl imitation. At this point I love to look over at my wife and say in a deep, sexy voice, “hey baby, you want to get frisky,” which she usually replies to by rolling off of the bed and laughing hysterically on the floor.
The worst problem with sleeping with your partner-in-life is that, after a brief break-in period, you actually get used to it and are ruined for eternity. You don’t realize this until your mate goes away on vacation or on business without you and suddenly you miss the annoying questions, the nuclear heat from their furnace-like body and the sound of them breathing next to you.
What you are left with then are your thoughts and an awful silence which reminds you of the reason you got together in the first place, because you are afraid of the dark.