Sharing Beds

My girlfriend and I see things differently. When I use her Netflix account she tells me I'm mooching. I get that she doesn't like me using her account out of fear that I will tweak her preferences. She wants recommendations for “Critically-Acclaimed Cerebral Crime Dramas” not the “Rise and Fall of the WCW.” Fair enough. Though, after nine months I feel she can decide on a better word than “mooching” like maybe, I don't know, sharing?

I share many things with her. Just this week she asked if I could order her a hair curler through my Amazon Prime account. I didn't accuse her of taking advantage of “relationshipping.” Nor would I call her a mooch for spending more time at my apartment than at hers. I am happy she does. I do not ask for much–a roll of toilet paper here and there, help hanging a picture frame, organizing my tennis shoes.

No one said sharing is easy. I own a small love seat that is comfortable for one person. When I'm alone I sprawl out with my legs crossed hanging over the end of the couch. When sharing the love seat there is nowhere to turn. The only move is her letting me rest my legs on her lap or spooning her with half her body hovering over the edge. Despite its intention the love seat is not adequate for the act itself. I'm also past the point of having sex on Ikea furniture.

Anyway, the bed, as my Dad puts it, “is for sleeping and sex.” My bed is the one item we share the most and what I envisioned would bring us the greatest joy. In reality sharing my bed is hard. To get situated I toss and turn without regard which wakes her up. She wears ear plugs because when I fall asleep on my back I snore. She is easy to sleep next to except for the one time I woke up to the sound of an uproarious toot.

“What was that?” I asked startled.

“It was nothing,” she said half asleep. “Go back to bed.”

What it was, was the world's funniest alarm clock.

“I love you, but I hate your bed,” my girlfriend confided.

Ready for an upgrade we shared in the fun of mattress shopping.  One other couple besides us was laying on beds. “Get a room!” I shouted at them.

We laid on Beauty Rests and Sealy's. The mattress salesman wearing a blue tooth handed me his card. I figured it was weird he would know where I was sleeping. Dave, at Mattress City, explained the inner workings of the Queen latex Englander as we rested peacefully.

“I can give you a great deal on it,” he said.

“What do you think?” I whispered to my girlfriend.

“I think it's great, but it's ultimately your decision,” she whispered back.

I'm glad she approved since I wanted her to share in the decision. The challenge was negotiating lying on a mattress in the fetal position.

“Let me crunch some numbers and see what I can do for you,” said Dave.

He accepted my counter offer and the mattress was delivered the next day. We are loving the new bed. “It's great for sleep and sex,” I wrote on Yelp.

It's been a great investment for our relationship. She doesn't hear me toss and turn and so far I'm the only one farting in bed. All things considered, purchasing a brand new bed is a small price to pay to keep using her Netflix.