During the throes of the first year of our relationship, when we’d adoringly curl up into one another in the quiet of night, I never thought a time would come when I’d want to punch my husband in the spleen for daring tread on my side of the bed.
We once were young, in love, and would actually wink when forced to share a tiny bed while traveling. Now our King-sized behemoth isn’t enough space for us to safely snooze in.
Recently, my husband was away on a work trip. Yes, the days were long and rough with no one to assist me in wrangling our crazy offspring. But then, at night – oh those sweet, delicious nights! – I would walk into a silent room with 40 square feet of mattress all to myself.
I’d turn on my sound machine, crawl into the tidily made bed, steal my husband’s pillows to craft a cozy Kim-shaped cave, and drift into a peaceful slumber until the alarm woke me in the morning. Night after night of uninterrupted sleep. Ahhh…
Then he came home.
I was woken at first by the bounce of the bed as he lumbered in. Then the shimmy as he made his way all the way over to my side, throwing an arm around my waist. Later that night, the snoring began. Lord knows how I didn’t punch him right then. I shoved until he rolled onto his other side, and dozed off again.
Not long after, I thrashed awake in response to being harshly grabbed and pulled to him for a 2am unconscious spooning. Caught in his clutches, I tried to not hate him.
Until he started breathing. Oh my shizzle, the breathing. In and out. In and out. I swear my husband somehow has an excessive need for breath at night. If he hadn’t somehow stolen each of the six pillows from the bed, I would have stuffed one into his open pie hole.
No sound machine Zen can erase the aggravation this constant waking causes me.
Yes, I know I should be thankful to have a loving husband who wants to be close to me. But this close? When I’m trying to sleep? Unacceptable.
I love you too, honey. GET OFF ME I’M SLEEPING.
I now understand why back in the day some TV couples had separate beds. That. Was. Genius. I’d take it even a step further: I am going to suggest to him that we sell our big beautiful bed and get 3 twin-sized ones instead. I’ll set mine up with an extra thick mattress pad, light covers, and sound machine within arms’ reach. He can have his firm mattress, flannel sheets, and heavy comforter year-round. Then the third one will be set up between us for conjugal visits.
We’ll still share a room and have a place for a little Wink-Wink Time, but I don’t have to pay the price of having my every night’s sleep peppered with mini-assaults on my sanity and he doesn’t have to lay next to someone who contemplates where to hide his body in the morning because he just woke her up with an unconscious 4am boob grab again.
I not only believe this solution will keep my marriage happy and love strong for the next fifty years, I think the concept could catch on as a global trend. Wedding registries will soon have Twin Bed Trifecta as a line item. Pillow Pets will introduce the His, Hers, and Winky-Winky anniversary collection. Divorce rates will plummet. All of these wonderful things will happen because I couldn’t stand one more night of my darling husband’s mothertruckin’ snoring and mouth-breathing grabby love at 2am.
So sometime in the future, when marriages last longer and a successful industry is built around the Three Bed Solution, you can thank my husband. He’ll be in the unmade bed by the window, two headboards over from me.