Josh bought a new video game this week which means I haven’t really seen him in a few days. The rare sightings of him I do get are when dinner is served or when I get home from work and open the blinds. It’s always very brief and usually the only time he speaks to me is when I don’t scurry in front of the TV quick enough. I’m usually the reason his alien soldier died and any question I ask is an inconvenience. Whether it be, “what time is it?” or “Can you call 911?”. That “you’re the best, just one more hour” he asks for always turns into 4. After a couple hours of useless google searches and daily Facebook stalks the “realistic” gun shots in the background start to become bothersome, but if I dare complain about not wanting to watch fake soldiers fake save the world anymore I am suddenly bothersome (or as he would rather put it “naggy”). My favorite part about Josh getting a new video game? For the next 7-10 days THE BED IS ALLLL MINE. I don’t wake up 2-30 times a night needing to stretch my legs or whisper “can you scoot over”. I don’t need to wrestle myself for the sheets or plug my nose to stop me from snoring. I can fall asleep to “The Real Housewives” or “Friends” and no one complains. When Josh gets a new video game I sleep like a freaking baby.
We have a queen bed, but it might as well be a baby’s crib. Though he will never concede to the fact that I am not the one hogging the bed…I am also not the one who sleeps as if I were the only one in the bed. Josh sleeps as if he took a Tylenol PM..every night. You know you are getting a good nights rest when you are literally spread eagle with your mouth wide open and you have no regard for anyone else is in the bed with you (even though there is someone in the same bed with you EVERY night). You know you are not getting a good nights rest when you have to elbow your boyfriend to stop breathing heavily in your face and push (gently of course………) his head off of your pillow. Lucy Ricardo had it right. We should all still be sleeping in our own beds. There are really only 2 good reasons to share a bed: when it’s cold outside and a cuddle session is in order or the obvious dance with no pants (which is,and always will be, a better reason for a man than for us ladies).
For now, or at least until they invent king size bunk beds, I am dealing with it. I am young enough to not need much sleep. But I’m almost 25, my quarter life crisis should be kicking in any time and I’m gonna need some good night’s rest. One where I don’t wake up with aches and pains (and my vicodin prescription is running low). I find myself getting excited over things I figured I wouldn’t get excited about until I was at least thirty something; Thursday night DVR, staying home for Sunday football, a good glass of wine vs. a tall shot of vodka, home decor, getting into new sweatpants vs wearing new booty shorts to the club, sleeping in past 9 am.
Luckily not only does my boyfriend pack me lunches that not even a growing boy would be able to finish, but he (sometimes) makes the bed! Even though he claims to not care about “all the decorating stuff”, at least he does care about not living like an animal or frat boy.
…I nearly teared.
No, there’s not a diamond ring or a dozen red roses hidden in this picture. There are pillows, blankets and tucked in sheets. Usually I come home and the sheets are crinkled in a ball, the pillows are on the floor and the laundry is on top of the bed. Im sure he only did it so I wouldn’t think he got up after noon…but either way, the bed was made and it might as well have been a million dollars, I was so happy.
I was even happier when I saw the trash had been taken out and the laundry hamper was empty, all without a reminder text. Now if I can just get him to use his own towel and put the dishes in the dishwasher….of all places.
While the bed all to myself is nice…scratch that…AMAZING, I would probably just complain we didn’t share a bed if we did bring back couples sleeping in separate beds (without it being some sign of disaster ahead). If I had my own bed, I would have to always make it, no excuses. At least when we share a bed, he is still sleeping in it when I leave for work. Yes, I would sleep well and yes, my muscles would not be stiff and tender in the mornings, but I wouldn’t get to come home to these little surprises of the bed being made or wake up to good morning forehead kisses (even though I can do without the horrendous morning breath). With my growing age, beauty and wisdom comes a profound appreciation for the little things. I have never been happier and I wouldn’t be where I am right now without that silly little boy by my side encouraging me and cheering me on (pom-poms and all). And even though he is the only reason I have gained 10 lbs that I cannot seem to lose, I love him dearly and look forward to spending the next chapter of our mid-twenty somethings together.
Until the next little surprise…happy renting!