TMI Tuesday – Sleeping Together
I’ve been busy. Over the weekend, I:
*Went to my chapter meeting, where our speaker, Carly Phillips, confessed to having a writing process almost as messy as mine. I love her for it.
*Went sailing. And I promise, I will post more about it and some pictures later this week.
*Finished the draft of SOAS. Yay!!!
I actually have a lot to blog about, and I am just now getting the time to do it. But today is Tuesday, so all that other stuff will just have to wait.
Before my friend contacted me last week with her hair-removal emergency, I got to thinking about sleeping arrangements.
In old movies and TV shows, you see the couples sleeping in twin beds. Supposedly, Mike and Carol Brady were the first couple allowed to share a bed on-screen. (I meant to find some pictures, but I couldn’t! Let me know if you do.)
Those who read historicals know that, among the aristocracy, the husband and wife would have separate bedrooms. Separate suites of rooms, even. And this is often a point of romance and intimacy in a historical – when they have that, “I know most couples sleep in separate rooms, but we’re going to share” discussion. The idea of separate chambers just being the antithesis of romance.
But as I’ve … ahem… matured, I’ve come to know a lot of very loving couples who sleep in separate beds, or even separate rooms, for a variety of reasons. Maybe one snores. Maybe one is a restless sleeper. Maybe one likes to stay up late watching TV and the other doesn’t. Maybe one is nursing a child at all hours of the night. Maybe one chases her husband out of the room so she can write in peace, and half the time the poor guy just falls asleep on the sofa. (Sorry Mr. Dare!)
Seriously – the act of sleeping together isn’t really as simple as it sounds. It takes practice, and sometimes life makes it impractical. When Mr. Dare and I first started living together, he would roll over and clock me with an elbow – because he wasn’t used to me being there. I had bruises. We got it figured out eventually, but then (as a side effect of all that time in bed together, I guess) we had babies. And they were always in our room, or demanding one of us stay in theirs…
Do I have a point to this ramble? Ah, yes.
Do you know of, or have you been in, a loving relationship that thrives on separate beds? Or do you see them as the antithesis of romance?