For June Rebecca Marquis

I’m a new wife. As each day passes I make the sign of the cross (like the good non-practicing Catholic that I am) and thank my lucky stars that I made it one more day without getting a divorce. If you’re not a new wife, or a wife you might think I am being a touch on the dramatic side. Well, I am not. Being a new wife is as exhausting as ruling the free world, and as aggravating as herding hundreds of feral cats in the sweltering heat, on no sleep.

Why no sleep new wife you are asking? Here’s the thing, this whole two in the bed thing is not all it’s cracked up to be. Before I got married I wasn’t one of those girls wanting someone to cuddle with, or someone to spoon me. Most of those girls grew up fatherless, and were trying to fulfill some long lost void in there life. Why sharing your bed with a stranger sufficed, I’ll never know. I have different issues I need counseling for. No, I was just fine settling into bed for the night, alone. I’ve thought about proposing an idea that “we’re two in the bed, part time.” I’ve read enough books on marriage to know that compromise is key, that’s where the part time comes into play. I think I am going to have to broach the subject with him soon. I’m going to have to admit, that I dislike sharing a bed, because, I think he’s on to my sleeping on the couch repertoire. I keep attributing it to the fact that I fell asleep before I moved to the bed. I may have given myself away by putting some sheets down, and getting my favorite blanket ready around 8pm. It looks like I made a little bed for a house guest, that we don’t have. That husband of mine . . . he’s smarter then he looks. I made a cardinal sin when I chose to marry him, he’s very good looking, remember, tall, dark, and handsome and occasionally smart. Everyone knows, you have one night stands with that kind, and you marry someone unattractive, rich, and impressionable.

I’ve mentioned this solo sleepy time theory of mine to a few friends. In November, I remember we were making pine cone Christmas Ornaments to donate to the needy. Why the needy would want pine cone ornaments I don’t know. With enough wine anything seems like a good idea to my friends and I, even pine cone art. Apparently though, we hadn’t had enough wine to make my avant guard part time sleeping together idea a hit. When I gingerly shared how I felt with Reese, she looked at me and told me plain and simple (she miraculously sobered up for the first time in 3 hours) that sharing a bed was the greatest thing, and that having to sleep alone meant she wouldn’t sleep. Oh okay. So I see you’re not the one who will understand. Next please? I’ve heard many other women say they wouldn’t be able to sleep without their husband in bed. Insert moi: insensitive wife, apparently I’m missing the“I can’t sleep without him gene”. I’ve been told by cousins who’ve been married for a long time that I will get to where I need him in bed to sleep. “It just happens.” Really? Just like eventually I’ll develop “a taste for beer.” The only time I can see forcing myself to like beer would be if I was shackled in a public place between my Mother In Law and my Sister In Law, and we were touching. At that point, I’d drink beer, possibly in excess, to avoid dehydration of course.

You’re probably thinking my husband snores. He doesn’t. He doesn’t even really move, he sleeps on his back, ready to annihilate demons, or our cat if she jumps off the bed in the night. I guess that’s a side effect of being at war in Afghanistan. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Dreams are like falling asleep next to the possibility of a Nuclear Implosion. I’m telling you, you really don’t want to wake him up. But that’s thing, he’s like the Princess and the Pea. Everything needs to be just so for him to slumber soundly. I feel like if I exhale too forcefully, it’s all over.

Then there is me, in a state of constant monkey mind, one thought swinging jubilantly from one jungle tree to another, as I toss and I turn, as I try and quiet the wild synapses going off in my mind like lightening bugs. I am what I am, restless, some might say, but what’s more annoying then when the person next to you falls asleep and you’re left awake, envious of their REM cycle? People who live far away from their in laws, but other than that, nothing. I was the kid that hated sleepovers at new friends houses for two reasons, I never knew if they’d fall asleep first, and if they’d sleep in all morning, leaving me awkwardly awake in a house that smells funny. I also don’t drink milk at other people’s houses, which made breakfast a bit of a challenge. So here I am, the new bride with her dark haired, blue eyed husband finding every excuse to sleep on the couch. Cause the couch doesn’t wake up if I move too much. The couch is just fine with me rubbing my feet together and reading until my eye lids are too heavy to deny their destiny.

This whole image the world portrays of being young and in love, having our limbs entangled in our high thread count sheets that were a wedding gift is not the case. Do I love him, yes. With everything I have, otherwise I wouldn’t last a second more, and I’d get a divorce and buy a chestnut horse. Is sharing a bed nice? On occasion. Someday more women will recognize my pioneer efforts at a happy marriage. A happy marriage means two in the bed, part time. Otherwise ruling the world of feral cats in the sweltering heat, before the pine cone art club meets on Tuesday night is too much. I need a lot of solo sleep in order to keep up with that schedule. The divorce rate is quite high in married couples. I think it’s cause everyone thinks they have to share a bed.

 

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About Jim Hilton

Just having a good time writing about our little adventures.
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