The Bed

Justin and I were married in May of 2002. We had spoken in length on all the aspects of our marriage before the fact and believe whole-heartedly that we were prepared for the union of our lives. We knew who was going to be in charge of the bills and checkbook. We knew who would do what chores. We talked all about our fears and concerns of being first time roommates. We felt very prepared for our new life. But there was one thing we did not think to discuss. Our sleeping habits were left out of any and all conversations so went we went to our shared bed for the first time and stared at the tiny double bed we had our first emergency meeting.

I was scared. How in the world were we going to fit in this tiny tiny bed. It looked like a doll bed sitting in the middle of our small bed room. I have to admit that I got a little weepy. I couldn’t imagine the next 50 years in a bed this small. I am not a hobbit. I can’t sleep in a smurf bed. Justin the world’s best consoler made it sound fun. “We can cuddle” He says. “It will be great.” But the truth is I don’t like to cuddle. I don’t like anything touching me when I sleep, not even my new husband, but I sucked it up and said.” Yeah…. It will be…great.”

It wasn’t great. I spent 5 of my eight hours of sleep a night trying to get comfortable and the other 3 fending of blows from my sleeping husband. He’s a flopper. He flops and flails all night. He swings his arms from side to side and kicks his knees up quicker than an angry donkey. He’s like sleeping with a bag of snakes. Mean, chrome plated sumo-wrestling snakes.

Our first month of nights was stressful. By the second we were arguing about what side would be better. By the Third I was continually talking about how nice a bigger bed would be. We were obsessed. We would go to mattress stores like people looked at cars. The salesman would ask us if we need help and I would respond, “no…just dreaming.”

The fourth month was the month of the bruise. I would wake up night after night with an elbow to the nose. I would cry and hold my face and Justin, who was completely asleep through all of the night time beatings, would try to console me. One night he kneed me in the back so hard that it knocked the wind out of me.
“Scoot over “and “ You’re pushing me off the bed” were common beginnings to our nighttime arguments. These were coupled with. “Your steeling my blankets” and “You smashed my face with you evil, lead, heat seeking elbow.”

Things were not going well. We were exhausted. Five months of little to no sleep was taking its toll, and I was beginning to think two twin beds was a good Idea. Justin thought I was exaggerating. “I would never hit you in my sleep.” “I didn’t give you that bruise.” “What do mean I broke your spine” “I don’t even know how to do a pile driver.”

The final straw came during the sixth month. I was sleeping soundly on my stomach when I became aware of a very heavy presence on my back. I was being pushed into the bed and I was having difficulty breathing. I freaked out for a minute. I couldn’t move. I contemplated gravity and the possibility that it could be working in over drive. I thought maybe the roof had crashed down on top of us and we were lost in the rubble. An invisible force was squishing me.

Wait were was my husband. He wasn’t next to me. Suddenly all became clear. Justin wasn’t beside me he was sleeping on top of me. He was laid out his back on my back. I had become the bed. It was too much. I couldn’t take it any longer.

“GET OFF ME.” I screamed.
“What?” He responded sleepily.
“GET OFF YOU ARE KILLING ME”

“You have more bed than I do.”

How does one to respond to a statement like this?

“Actually,” I said thoughtfully contemplating my situation.” We are about even.”

To this day he has no memory of this event. He sometimes argues that I made it up just to get a new bed, and get a new bed we did. We bought a king. We used a shoehorn to fit it into our little room. There was so much room that we didn’t know what to do with our new found freedom. Justin and I laid next to each in our glorious king size deluxe pillow top bed that first night. A mile of empty bed between separated us. Suddenly a small voice broke the silence of the night. “I’m lonely…you want to cuddle.”