When I grow up, I'll steal the covers
You know what's sad? I slept at a Marriott on Wednesday night and realized how much my own bed at home sucks. I still sleep on the same bed I've had since... well, high school? I don't know how long it's been. The mattress is at least 10 years old, though, and lately, I lay down and toss and turn trying to get comfortable. It's no good. My arm can't find a happy position to call home, and my back aches.
I think it's time to upgrade to a real, adult bed. And then I can be a real grown up and sleep with my boyfriend.
See, Mr. Buckeye and I have never been able to sleep in a single or double-sized bed together. In college, when I'd spend the night, one of us would get his bed, a double, and one of us would get the single mattress that he and his roommate, Warren Boy, kept leaning against the foyer wall. Since we moved in together two years ago, we have each had our own bedrooms and our own beds, his double and my single. At first, there were a lot of good reasons for this setup. We had no money to buy a king, the size we think we need to be happy. And although my parents don't seem to care that we live in sin, we suspect his do, even though they'd never say so. So by keeping seperate bedrooms with seperate beds, we kept up a facade of innocence. The third reason is because I'm a horrible roommate. I throw clothes everywhere. I don't make the bed. I have papers and stray boxes and books and hangers and unidentifiable shit all over the floor. Mr. Buckeye is a anal-retentive, neat-nick (love you babe!). He walks into my room and cringes.
So, these things have kept up shacking up in seperate bedrooms. There is no cuddling before bedtime. There is no good hello kiss with stinky bad breath each morning. In some ways, it hasn't bothered me. Then, when anyone comes over or finds out about the situation, I feel silly, like a 12-year-old masquarading as a real adult in a supposedly real adult relationship.
Well, I could handle it all when my bed was super comfy and wonderous and I had to pry myself out of its sheets each morning. Now, it just sucks. And we have money. And his parents haven't protested yet. And I SWEAR I can learn to hang up my clothes. Maybe. So damn it, we're getting a bed.
Anyone have a mattress suggestion? I like to feel like I'm sleeping on a pile of cotton topped with marshmellows in cloud heaven. Plush is my friend.
I think it's time to upgrade to a real, adult bed. And then I can be a real grown up and sleep with my boyfriend.
See, Mr. Buckeye and I have never been able to sleep in a single or double-sized bed together. In college, when I'd spend the night, one of us would get his bed, a double, and one of us would get the single mattress that he and his roommate, Warren Boy, kept leaning against the foyer wall. Since we moved in together two years ago, we have each had our own bedrooms and our own beds, his double and my single. At first, there were a lot of good reasons for this setup. We had no money to buy a king, the size we think we need to be happy. And although my parents don't seem to care that we live in sin, we suspect his do, even though they'd never say so. So by keeping seperate bedrooms with seperate beds, we kept up a facade of innocence. The third reason is because I'm a horrible roommate. I throw clothes everywhere. I don't make the bed. I have papers and stray boxes and books and hangers and unidentifiable shit all over the floor. Mr. Buckeye is a anal-retentive, neat-nick (love you babe!). He walks into my room and cringes.
So, these things have kept up shacking up in seperate bedrooms. There is no cuddling before bedtime. There is no good hello kiss with stinky bad breath each morning. In some ways, it hasn't bothered me. Then, when anyone comes over or finds out about the situation, I feel silly, like a 12-year-old masquarading as a real adult in a supposedly real adult relationship.
Well, I could handle it all when my bed was super comfy and wonderous and I had to pry myself out of its sheets each morning. Now, it just sucks. And we have money. And his parents haven't protested yet. And I SWEAR I can learn to hang up my clothes. Maybe. So damn it, we're getting a bed.
Anyone have a mattress suggestion? I like to feel like I'm sleeping on a pile of cotton topped with marshmellows in cloud heaven. Plush is my friend.