M is for Marriage (and Murder)

Marriage is a polarizing topic. Not just the cost of weddings, or the fight for equal rights for same sex relationships, or the religious ideals and restrictions that factor in. NOPE. All marriage is controversial. While many view it as the ultimate declaration of love and commitment – for some, a MUST before children, cohabitation, or even sex – others perceive an awkward, unnecessary legal contract that has more to do with government than with love. And you know what? I’m totally cool with both opinions. Do what you will, lovers! If you’re both adults, it’s your call. Marry or don’t; have babies or do not. Just live your life and stop being judgemental jerks about it all, some of you.

What is universal about all couples – married, dating, gay, straight, monogamous, not, etc – is that they have to figure out sleeping arrangements. Sure, there is the odd long distance couple that rarely spends the night together, or those who opt for separate rooms out of preference, but typically, couples share a bed. And with that comes sharing a blanket. And here’s where I cease to understand humanity.

SHOW ME ONE PERSON ON EARTH WHO HAS EVER ENJOYED SHARING A BLANKET.

You can’t, because that person is a unicorn. They don’t exist. You like sharing a blanket, you say? You’re a liar.

Unless you’re curled up on the couch watching a movie and cuddling romantically, blankets are not meant to be shared. When we are sleeping, we our bodies need to be comfortable. This means moving; adjusting your body and your covers until you feel just right, and then re-adjusting repeatedly throughout the night.

Unless you are a robot or a clone, your partner is not going to have the EXACT same sleep habits and preferences as you. They will move, they will mess up your blanket flow, they will sweat up on you or graze you with their ice cold feet, and if you’re married to my husband, they will steal your cozy, perfect duvet away completely in order to wrap themselves like a deranged adult sleep burrito. At this point, you will be cold, tired, and angry. So what do you do? You smother your husband with his pillow, obviously, and steal back the damn blanket.

EXCEPT MURDER IS ILLEGAL AND MORALLY WRONG, I guess, so there has to be another way. And there is! Behold, my one and only tip for a successful (murder-free) relationship: same bed, separate blankets.

My husband and I share a queen sized bed. We snuggle up together when we want to, avoid each other’s hot breath in the night, and occasionally have a small child wedged in between us. He freely drapes his limbs across my body while snoring away beside me, and that’s fine. We don’t kill each other, because we have two queen size blankets on our bed, and thus, he can enter his weird,  man-swaddle duvet cocoon while I lay under a flat blanket with my feet sticking out (it’s too hot otherwise). We’re together, but apart, and it’s bliss: the perfect combination of intimacy and personal space. Honestly, why isn’t this the norm? I can’t tell if other people are masochists, or just in better relationships than I am.

So go forth, married and unmarried people of the world, and get your own blankets. They don’t even have to match, because you can hide one under the other. It’s the holy grail of cohabitation! Which sort of makes me, like, the Jesus of bed-sharing (or at least one of the apostles – not Judas, hopefully). In conclusion: two blankets, you’re welcome, and sweet dreams.

 

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