The Guest Room

~my bed~

A very long time ago a boy taught me the true meaning of intimacy.
It is not simply sleeping with someone, but beside them. Holding each other like twins in the womb.
Outside is chaos but in here we float, safe as houses.

Just like any blissful feeling, human nature dictates we chase it, covet it, lock it down, and abuse it until it loses all meaning and the original feeling.

For years I forced that concept  with other partners, never realizing that sleeping next to THAT boy was a warm and lovely manifestation of how we felt. but not the next one, he snored a lot. The one after that made me feel claustrophobic. And the one after that fit all my curves just right and let me be the big spoon so that was okay until it wasn’t. Another would caress my cheek until I woke up at 4 am and we could talk about dreams so I liked being there, but the next one was the filling in a burrito he made of all the sheets…different boys, different joys.

Dr. Suessisms aside, rocket science this is not. So why am I the only one saying anything?

I read an +Elephant Journal article,”why we sleep together” and just the title filled me with a great sense of relief, thank God, it’s not just me, and him and that other lady who thinks I am onto something. phew.

Turns out said article was advocating bed sharing. ugh. Like we need an article telling us that it’s okay to do what everybody does.
I say nay nay.
Time to open a dialog.

The following statement is true.
I love the way he looks, tastes, feels, sounds and smells.
The following statement is also true.
The sheer magnitude of his morning cuteness is enough to make me ovulate.
The following statement is also true.
After our first night together I offered up the guest room should he sleep over again.
He continues to sleep over, and he does sleep in the guest room.

(insert shock and awe)

but but but
But what?
But you said you loved all this stuff about him and he is adorable in the morning.

Those things are the truth…and so is this…

After sleeping with enough Scorpios to write a handbook* I have stumbled on the notion that their night time is precious.
Sleeping next to them is a privilege, not a right. in the past I have earned that privilege SIMPLY BY ACKNOWLEDGING IT, accepting it, not taking it personally and behaving in a reverent manner when it does happen.
I have expanded this theory to include errrrbody (even though this one is a Scorpio too, I have a problem, I need a support group.)

The following statement is false.
I care about him, adore him, respect him, want him LESS because I do not want/need to trap/sleep with him in my bed at night, after we fuck.

Out of all of the men I have slept beside, I have rarely enjoyed the experience, but when I have it’s been blissful (see; tickling my cheek and whispering dreams). my ‘twin in the womb’ was over 20 years ago, and sorry, it’s kinda hard to top. Why sully it by trying?

I have spent the better part of 18 years in relationships and due to finances, living arrangements, convenience (that in retrospect was not convenient at all) always shared a bed. Back when we slept on furs in caves, the conservation of body heat and safety in numbers made sense, but I am not a huge follower of anthropological precedents and I have a guest room with a lovely bed in it. Again, not rocket science. I also made the bed uncomplicated, in the manner of men, and removed the throw pillows. Boys don’t really like throw pillows. they tolerate them.

The following statement is true.
My dogs sleep in my bed.
(insert more shock and awe).

One keeps my belly warm, the other my feet. I don’t worry one bit about waking them up to take back the covers. they know sleeping with me is a privilege not a right.

The new hotness said, when I offered him the guest room citing the (literal) dog fight for sheets and space as one of many reasons for it…”the dogs were here first”  (see why I love how he sounds…he says shit like this)

The door to his room is shut to keep out the dogs and noise, not me. You see dearhearts, I have opposable thumbs and have been successfully operating doors for years now. If I have a bad dream, get cold or sucky for whatever reason, I am welcome on the other side of the door and the bed. Because I ASKED him and he has concrete proof of my respect for him and his space. So he knows if I am climbing into bed it’s because I need to, or it’s morning and I brought him coffee.

(come back for * “fucking scorpios, a handbook for the criminally insane” on 01.01.14)