You don't really want to drag the world into bed with you because there is enough going on there already. Beds are complex, multipurpose arenas, and it is important that the two parties specify which activity they're undertaking.
"Are we talking or are we reading?"
"Are we sleeping or are we fooling around?"
You have to clarify.
"Are we not talking because we're mad, or because we both just don't feel like talking?"
"Are we thinking of fooling around ambitiously or 'let's just do what we have to so we don't pull a muscle or kill ourselves?'"
The good thing is, when you're together forever, there is less pressure to make any given night magical. You always know you have another shot tomorrow....and the next night.
That's the entire beauty of Forever...nothing but tomorrows.
Of course, if you cash in the Tomorrow Chip too often, you break the bank. One day you roll over, notice each other and say, "Hey, we used to do something here involving rubbing and touching...any idea what it was? No recollection at all? Hmmm. I know I enjoyed it. I remember that."
So, you negotiate. You clarify...and you settle in. You find your position, you fix your pillows, and arrange your mutual blanket.
That blanket is your relationship: one big cover concealing the fact that two people are inside, squirming around each other trying to get comfortable.
How you handle the blanket is crucial.
Sometimes I wake up and I have no blanket. There's nothing there to handle. The woman of my dreams, who is sleeping very cozily, has somehow accumulated the bulk of what's at least half mine.
I tug at it gingerly. She stirs, and seemingly unaware, she tightens her grasp and rolls farther away, taking with her another good foot and a half of blanket. I watch her and calculate my options. I decide it's not worth waking her up or being spiteful, so I try to make do without.
I stare at the ceiling and count the little paint bumps, hoping I can bore myself back to sleep. Within seconds, my brain comes up with five different parts of the house that need painting and fixing, and then I chuckle to myself about why I am shopping at Home Depot at 3:25 in the morning.
Now, I'm more irritated and much more awake. I look over and see my bride dreaming blissfully, securely cradled and warm by what is now over 90 percent of the blanket. Despite my affection, I resent her deeply.
I sit up. I look at her. I watch her sleep. I think to myself, "How can this be? After all the negotiating and maneuvering we've done, how is it that this person, who will be placing her head twelve inches away from my head for the rest of my life, is getting such a better end of the bargain? It just doesn't seem right. Will we never get better at this? Must one of us always be less content than the other?"
I pull up the pathetically small segment of blanket left available to me and scoot up next to the woman of my dreams, partly because I hope that her sleep will rub off on me, and partly because I figure she's got to be warmer than I am.
And as I hold her close against me, it dawns on me: Now I remember. This is why we go through all of that. Because holding the One Who Fits in your arms simply feels this good, and nothing else really does. To earn this, you must swat away all that stands in the way.
"Are we talking or are we reading?"
"Are we sleeping or are we fooling around?"
You have to clarify.
"Are we not talking because we're mad, or because we both just don't feel like talking?"
"Are we thinking of fooling around ambitiously or 'let's just do what we have to so we don't pull a muscle or kill ourselves?'"
The good thing is, when you're together forever, there is less pressure to make any given night magical. You always know you have another shot tomorrow....and the next night.
That's the entire beauty of Forever...nothing but tomorrows.
Of course, if you cash in the Tomorrow Chip too often, you break the bank. One day you roll over, notice each other and say, "Hey, we used to do something here involving rubbing and touching...any idea what it was? No recollection at all? Hmmm. I know I enjoyed it. I remember that."
So, you negotiate. You clarify...and you settle in. You find your position, you fix your pillows, and arrange your mutual blanket.
That blanket is your relationship: one big cover concealing the fact that two people are inside, squirming around each other trying to get comfortable.
How you handle the blanket is crucial.
Sometimes I wake up and I have no blanket. There's nothing there to handle. The woman of my dreams, who is sleeping very cozily, has somehow accumulated the bulk of what's at least half mine.
I tug at it gingerly. She stirs, and seemingly unaware, she tightens her grasp and rolls farther away, taking with her another good foot and a half of blanket. I watch her and calculate my options. I decide it's not worth waking her up or being spiteful, so I try to make do without.
I stare at the ceiling and count the little paint bumps, hoping I can bore myself back to sleep. Within seconds, my brain comes up with five different parts of the house that need painting and fixing, and then I chuckle to myself about why I am shopping at Home Depot at 3:25 in the morning.
Now, I'm more irritated and much more awake. I look over and see my bride dreaming blissfully, securely cradled and warm by what is now over 90 percent of the blanket. Despite my affection, I resent her deeply.
I sit up. I look at her. I watch her sleep. I think to myself, "How can this be? After all the negotiating and maneuvering we've done, how is it that this person, who will be placing her head twelve inches away from my head for the rest of my life, is getting such a better end of the bargain? It just doesn't seem right. Will we never get better at this? Must one of us always be less content than the other?"
I pull up the pathetically small segment of blanket left available to me and scoot up next to the woman of my dreams, partly because I hope that her sleep will rub off on me, and partly because I figure she's got to be warmer than I am.
And as I hold her close against me, it dawns on me: Now I remember. This is why we go through all of that. Because holding the One Who Fits in your arms simply feels this good, and nothing else really does. To earn this, you must swat away all that stands in the way.
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