Bed-Sharing 101: BYOP (Bring Your Own Pillow)

It’s Not the Gas That’s Gonna Kill Ya!

I’m thirty-fucking seven now and have become quite accustomed to sleeping alone in my bed. I have a sleep routine and often feel like Rain Man, but without this routine I sleep like complete ass. My “sleep start” position is on my back with warm lavender infused bean-bag compress on my chest. At some point, I turn onto my left side then turn over onto my belly and stick a leg out like a dog pissing on a fire hydrant. This is when the real sleep starts to happen. There’s also a well built pillow fortress throughout my bed so that whenever I turn over, I always have a pillow to spoon and there’s a sound machine playing white noise in the background to cover up any sounds that could wake me from my slumber.

I’m free to sleep naked with zit cream applied to my face. I can snore, drool and talk to myself as much as I want during my sleep if I so desire. I can sleep in the middle of the bed or move to the other side, which always feels so luxurious for some strange reason. And if a fart sneaks out, I don’t have to worry about it. It’s my bed and the only person I will offend is me. So the thought of sharing my bed gives me major anxiety and this past Saturday it all became a reality. 

Knowing that I was going to attempt my first sleep over at the “new Chris’” house, I planned accordingly. I packed my overnight bag with make-up, a toothbrush, ear plugs, a change of clothes, sleeping pills and gas preventing meds including Gas-X and Beano. Shortly after my arrival, we left his house and headed out to dinner. We ordered and when the food arrived at our table, I had to figure out how to secretly pop two Beano pills before consuming any food so as to prevent any gas later that evening. I reached into my pocket, took out the pills and tried to sneak them into my mouth, but I was caught red-handed and he said, “What are you taking?” I nervously responded with “Vitamins.” Curious George then asked, “What kind of vitamins?” Clearly, I didn’t think this through and should have. I finally said, “I’m taking medicine that helps me digest food.” Then he said, “What medicine?” What is my response here? Do I tell him that I inherited my father’s over-active exhaust system? That my family intestines are built to fart and so I’m taking Beano pills so that I don’t spend the entire night doubled over in gas pain because I can’t sneak one out? I’m doomed, I thought, but finally responded with, “Sometimes I need help digesting food, so these are enzymes to help with that.” Crisis averted. He took the bait and turned his attention to his chicken fried rice, while I began to consume my Pho.

After we got home, we went in the hot tub for a bit and then decided it was time for bed. [Make-out scene deleted.] We’re both admittedly light sleepers and so I knew this had the potential to turn into a total disaster, especially if the Beano didn’t work and I was crippled with gas pain. But, thankfully the Beano was working. No gas – hooray! But then I started to fight with the extra firm pillows. Flip. Flip. Tuck. Tuck. Flip. Tuck. Sigh.

“‘Is everything ok over there?”
“Yes, sorry I am just a restless sleeper.”
“I am too. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, I’m ok. Sorry to keep waking you from your slumber.”
“That’s ok. I am having trouble sleeping to.”
“Maybe I should just go home so we can both get a good night’s sleep?”
“No, just stay a little longer and try to relax.”
“OK I’ll try.”

Then we return to spoon-start position. Light snoring begins and I look at the clock. 2:30am. Ugh. He moves and I take the chance to slip out of the spoon-lock position and go to my corner to battle it out with the extra firm pillows for the umpteenth time. Flip. Flip. Tuck. Flip. Tuck. Sigh. Clock check – 4:30 a.m. Fuck. He moves again.

“I think I’d better go home.”
“OK. I walk you out.”
Sigh.