While You Were Sleeping

Sharing the bed with someone (I'll have you know I initially misspelled that and said "Sharting the bed" which is a horse of an entirely different color) is not always easy. Hell, sharing a room with someone isn't always easy. How many of us got to college freshman year expecting your first year of sharing a room to be a breeze after exchanging exciting emails with Joe Schmoe from Idaho, only to realize Joe Schmoe is the textbook definition of slovenly. My first college roommate was completely non-offensive as a person, but living with him is what I imagine living with a three-toed sloth to be like. It was always hard for me to tell if he was home or not, because his side of the room was just one giant pile. Of things. Some of which may have been living. And sometimes I'd think he wasn't home, and just as I'm getting ready to fall asleep, he'd slowly rise out of the pile, like a trash heap Messiah and scare the ever-living shit out of me. It didn't help that he always kept the shade in our room shut, even on a nice day. I still have horrible flashbacks to one day in the spring, when I got back to the room, the window was shut and the sun had been beating on the closed shade, baking the already questionable contents of his side of the room. One word: pungent. There was not enough Febreze in the world for that day. It was like someone had baked a casserole using sweaty gym socks and pickle juice.

Everyone has their college roommate horror stories. One of my best friends in college was in a forced triple freshman year. One of her two roommates would steal the others' food while they were gone. But here's the kicker: homegirl was bulimic. BULIMIC. She would eat their food their parents sent in a care package, then proceed to vomit it up in the shower later that day. It's not even like she's the best goddamn dancer in the American Ballet Academy. (Who the hell are you? Nobody!) Who steals someone else's food and doesn't even fully enjoy it?! That's just cruel. Considering the sloth was the worst of my roommate troubles in college (except when I was hooking up with my roommate and shit got real awkward. Oh, hormones!), I think I lucked out. My only wish was that I had a roommate in college that talked in their sleep. My friend Em, apparently talked in her sleep, as recounted by her roommate Allison. My favorite story was one time Allie was up late doing some homework, and all of a sudden, Emily shot straight up in bed and said "Yea, I'll have another shot!" I die. Each and every time I hear that story.

Blanyway, I've digressed. So getting back to my point, sharing a bed with someone is not easy. This is what makes hooking up with people so tricky, because you never know what you're getting if they spend the night. The worst is someone who is a total bed hog. For some ungodly reason, the guy/girl you have over is posing for the Vitruvian Man in the middle of the bed at three in the morning. You have to find a way to occupy the space between the edge of the bed and their ankle. I've heard that the way you feel most comfortable is the way you slept in the womb. These people's mothers' wombs must have been cavernous. When does it become acceptable to punch them in the face and tell them to get out? Because whenever I get woken up in the middle of the night, for some reason, I am extremely hostile. So keep that in mind if you ever interrupt my slumber: I will murder you. This is also probably the same person who steals all the covers. Repeatedly. No matter how many times you yank the blanket back, ten minutes later you'll wake up freezing while they are in their homespun woolen cocoon.

I prefer this to the overcuddler. My first bf was like this, and it got real irritating, especially in the summer. He would need to be constantly right next to me. And each time I moved over, he would move over more. I woke up numerous times teetering on the edge of the bed. While great for my core and balance, not so great for being well-rested. There's nothing worse than being all clammy AND pressed up against someone. Whether I'm in bed, on the subway, etc. I need my personal space. It's hot, I'm sweating enough already, please do not touch me.

Restless sleepers might be the hardest people to sleep next to. No, people with night terrors are the hardest people to sleep next to. But restless sleepers are a close second. You have to sleep all defensive, because you never know when a stray arm or leg is going to come your way. They are off in dreamland, running through field of sunflowers, while you're wide awake listening to them rustle around all night. It's like sleeping next to a dog.

My current bf and I share the bed nicely. Except for the fact that he snores like a foghorn. It doesn't help that he routinely falls asleep within five minutes of hitting the pillow. And he snores as soon as he's semi-unconscious. It sounds like someone playing a tuba filled with macaroni and cheese most nights. I'm willing to put up with it because he also talks in his sleep. It's everything that I've ever wanted in a roommate/bed buddy. I cannot tell you the kind of joy this brings into my life on a nightly basis. My only regret is that we're not still in college, and I'm not usually awake until 4 o'clock in the morning to listen to the wacked out things he's thinking about. But like I said, he falls asleep faster than a Rusty the narcoleptic dachshund.

So there have been some gems recently. The best part is that he will respond to you when you talk to him, but has no memory of what you talked about in the morning. I've started keeping a notepad by the bed for anytime I'm awake and he's rambling. Because it's just too good to forget, and I have a god awful memory.

My favorite was the first one that I wrote down. He goes: "Hey buddy, are you there?" and at this point he grabbed my arm and put it on his chest and says: "Can you make my skins shine like new?" In his mind, my rubbing his chest is the equivalent of Homer sticking his head in the bowling ball waxer. The next time he spoke to me, we had a 30 second conversation. He woke me up by saying "I can't take this." To which I obviously asked, "What can't you take?" because I thought he was wide awake. "Everyone jumping at me asking me for money." At this point, I rolled over to grab the notepad to write this down. He must have interpreted that to mean I was mad because he goes "Noooooooooo, not you. Everyone is trying to sell me cat food." But the best one to date happened a few weeks ago. From a dead sleep, he goes "P-p-p-p-PAP SMEAR!! PAP SMEAR!" Clearly this cracks me up, and he says, "Pap smear! What's a pap smear? Do women get those?"

Like I said, this is all I've ever wanted. I couldn't be happier. The only thing worse is knowing that he spoke in his sleep, but I was too tired/lazy to write it down and don't remember what was said. That's how I feel this morning. It's like a veritable gold mine of comedy that I'm not digging through, simply because I'm "tired" and I want "sleep". Only one more reason I need to move to DC and be funemployed for a little bit. So I can stay up late and listen to the wacky nighttime musings of the boy. Guaranteed to keep me occupied for at least a day.