Pillow Talk

I was telling someone recently about how terrible I am as a bedmate. I toss and turn and snore and drool on occasion. Plus I'm the loudest breather on the face of the earth. It's gotta be bad when multiple people a day have asked me if I have a deviated septum. Also my bed is a Twin XL. Which is fine and dandy for me, but anyone else joining me is probably going to be a little cramped.

But despite all those issues, in my last two relationships, my boyfriend slept over a minimum of 4 nights a week.

So what is it? Is it our desire to have company at our most vulnerable times, thus making us safer? Is it the security of knowing he's right there and that he cares enough about me to put up with all the shit I put him through while he's unconscious? Or maybe it's just the plain fact that it's nice to fall asleep with someone and wake up with someone.

I'd like to think that it's some combination of want, need, and desire that gives us a sort of pleasure, safety, and triumph. There's something about going back to bed after a terrible night's sleep next to someone for the first time, but the pillows still smell like him. And slowly all the memories of the night before flood back and carry you off into the land of dreams.

The words. The looks. The kisses. The touches. The licks to the face. The nudges in the groin. The loss of sensation in your arm. It all makes the torture of the night before worthwhile. And even more than that, it makes the next night not come soon enough.