I love my bed. My bedroom is not quite the sanctuary that the one in the Treehouse was, though it’s getting there. But my bed! Newly purchased for this new space (the iron canopy wouldn’t fit), with a new comforter and (as usual) more pillows than any human has a right to, I LOVE snuggling down into it, burrowing myself into the pillows and blankets or starfishing and sleeping crooked. It’s hard to get out of bed in the morning. Not just cuz I’m sleepy, but because I don’t want to leave the comfort and sweetness of my bed.
Mostly, I sleep there alone. In all the seven years that I was with W, I maybe slept alone three times. I was always with one or the other or both. And I loved it. I hated sleeping alone. But now…now I sleep alone more often than not, and most often, it is by my choice.
I feel guilty about that sometimes. I enjoy snuggling with Ad (and the dog), and there is an ease and familiarity to sleeping with him that is lovely and sweet, but I have my nighttime routine and my morning routine, and I enjoy my alone time just before sleep; enough that sometimes, selfishly, when I *could* invite him over, I don’t, because…well…I want to sleep alone. The same goes for the Romantic Guy, though with him I haven’t even slept with him often enough to feel comfortable sleeping next to him. It’s funny how your body learns to recognize another body by touch, by smell, by the feel of where his hip hits you or how his leg curls into yours. How his arm fits over you, or the sound of his breathing as he falls into sleep. I haven’t found that yet with RG, my body doesn’t recognize his in my sleep, and it makes for a restless night. And as for Viper? He used to practically order me to stay over at least three nights a week because he wanted to sleep with me. Now he seems satisfied with two nights, and it’s not my choice when or if we sleep together.
It’s strange how my life went from being a family to being…a single person with 2.5 part-time boyfriends and no family. I mean I have my sister and my parents, my son and daughter, but no family of my own. No one to share my life with. The closest I have now is my dear friend and housemate, but though I can envision our relationship becoming more a sharing of lives if we stay living together, it’s not quite there now. We’re still best friends who live together.
I’m not sure how I feel about this. Sometimes, in my bed, alone at night or in the morning, I love my space up in the rafters of the third floor. I love my independence and self-sufficiency. I love being able to have company when I choose, and not when I don’t choose. Other times, I feel alienated and disconnected. I wonder what will happen to me when I get old and am unable to care for myself. Who will be my family then?
I believe Adam wants to live with me again someday. My daughter has said she wants me to live with her when I get old and my sister has said that she and I will live together in our old age. But I don’t want to be a burden on my daughter, and I don’t think I could live with my sister’s negativity. And I don’t know that I want to live with Adam again. I like the way I live in more respects than just my sleeping arrangements; L, my housemate, and I share space together quite well, and his presence would be disruptive to that. That’s the weird thing about having moved out on my own – it made me realize how differently we live, and to appreciate my own lifestyle and choices. I wouldn’t have recognized it if I hadn’t. And as for RG and Viper, neither one has any role to play in this scenario, except as friends and lovers.
There are many things I miss about my old life, but this – W and I and Adam sharing our lives – is one of the hardest to leave behind.