The Nightmare of Sleeping with Me


I walk, I talk, I kick, I sprawl, I spasm, I drool, and when I’m sick I might even snore. I probably make a terrible bed partner, which is why I’ve hardly bothered to share.

(We’re talking about sleep sleep, people, although clearly this ties in with…)

When I have, for whatever reason, I typically consciously limit myself to the very edge of the bed and try so hard to mimic a straight and narrow rigor mortise. (This results in hardly any sleep and a buried resentment of my bed partner.) I envy those with similar unconscious habits who don’t care and make their partners live with it, but I haven’t encountered anyone close to as bad as I am.

I think the only way to get over this insecurity is to take the plunge and make somebody live with it. But I don’t enter relationships – at least, it takes a lot for me to want someone enough – so it would need to be worth the risk of scaring that person away. They would have to tolerate occasional bruises to the shin. Well, if they can live with all the other things odd about me, I suppose this is only another stick in the pile – or, perhaps more accurately, a Jenga block to remove. Sure, it could make everything collapse. But isn’t that the point of getting to know someone?


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