Relationships Are Hard When You Both Want The Same Side Of The Bed
It should be a truth universally acknowledged that one side of the bed is always preferable to the other. So a person, whether in a relationship or not, will naturally seek that side of the bed.
This was certainly the truth that I discovered when moving in with a boyfriend for the first time.
Honestly being single for so long did not do me any favors. Not because of the potentially fertile period of my life passing me by, but because I became married to my way of doing things. Dinner at 4 pm? Yep. Not shaving my knees when I shaved the rest of my leg? Did that. Sleeping wherever I wanted on my bed? Of course.
When I first started dating the guy I live with now, we had no problems when it came to bed real estate. At my house, I chose the side I wanted. At his, I slept on the side he did not. He did the same. Then, much to my surprise, things continued to work out and we made the decision to move in together.
It wasn’t until we saw our future apartment and sat on the bed that we both realized there was a superior section and that we might have a problem.
For we both wanted that sweet side.
I moved into the apartment first and I cockily sent him a picture of myself sprawled out on the coveted spot with the words, “Mine.”
“You wish,” he texted back.
I put the phone aside. He wouldn’t be back from his trip for a few days. In that time I would mold the marshmallow-like mattress with my body weight until it was my exact shape. I’d imprint myself so deeply that he wouldn’t fit into the grooves I created.
Eventually, he began to move into our new place, knickknack by knickknack. His art intermingled with mine on the rose-colored walls and his dishes made their appearance in the sink. Our fridge was full of sauces with different degrees of spiciness. Hot for him, mild for me.
He soon made his ultimate goal apparent.
I knew we had a situation when I walked into the bedroom one balmy night. ”What are you doing?” I Glared at him lying there, in the spot I’d thought I’d made clear was my own.
He smiled. “Oh I just need to send this message and my phone needed the charger.”
He said it so innocently. As if I was born yesterday.
“Ok, no worries.” I sat on the edge of the bed.
“You can lie in my spot for a bit, this might take a while.”
“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“Stop being paranoid.”
“Stop colonizing the bed!”
I did end up sleeping in my spot that night. We did not cuddle. I only had the victory to keep me warm. Oh, and also blankets.
For weeks we battled for bed supremacy. It was exhausting. Our nightly routine became a race. Sometimes I thought of swallowing toothpaste so I could be quicker in the rush to the perfect left side.
Our fight to possess that bed’s best spot showed a weak point in our characters. Two people who have never had to share a bed on a long-term basis with another now had to (gulp) compromise.
It was a precursor of future battles. Not with each other so much as with ourselves. OK fine. Also with each other. I would fight my natural instincts to cover horizontal surfaces with clutter. He would preemptively throw his clothes in the laundry basket the before I “asked” him to.
We were both were naturally selfish. It was time we learned how to be a team.
When it came to the bed I was the one who eventually surrendered. I wanted the window, but he needed to be able to get out of bed more easily for work.
And, as I was primarily a freelancer who gets the WHOLE bed as an office on cold days, I let him have his choice. For the night anyway.
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