“People who say life is a bed of roses usually complain about sleeping in thorns” Anon Swedish Saying
There is just one thing that is a problem about being single.
“Just one?” I hear you cry... “Just how far in denial are you Jax?”. But hear me out. Most problems are just challenges in disguise and once you have that head on, it’s a case of problem what problem? Being released from coupledom is an opportunity to be self supporting, self aware... and a marvellous opportunity to be selfish for a while! After years of putting someone else first it is life enhancing to be selfish and self indulgent: You can eat what you want (no more offal based meals just cause he likes liver and bacon!), take liberties with beauty regimes (who needs to wax everything..all the time eh?), money doesn’t get directed onto to things you don’t care for (no more supporting a petrol-heads fixation on Lamborghinis), watch the movies you like (Oh no... how will Bruce Willis et al survive now you aren’t welded in a cinema seat every time an explosion fest is released). It’s pretty rewarding to be realise that you can stand on your own two feet... and it is great fun to indulge yourself. Problem what problem?
But there is just one problem.
A huge problem.
Actual measurements.... 108 x 102 inches.
Yep... the bed.
When I bought my bed, I had a whole different set of priorities. I was buying a place to in which I could gain cuddles, comfort, closeness, intimacy and human warmth. Oh yeah and somewhere big enough to spin like a top should the tantric moments allow. Once purchased my use of it was also dominated by my relationship. I had a side. I took the side farthest from the bedroom door. The occupant of the other side was almost a barrier between me and anything dangerous that may lurk the other side of the door whilst we snoozed. (Funny really as the only dangerous thing would be one of our angry cats and even wimpy old moi could have handled that!) I knew what side of the bed I was getting out in the morning.
It’s very important to get out of the right side of the bed in the morning.
Starting your days knowing that you are not compounding years of an unsatisfactory relationship with yet another 24hrs is a VERY positive thing. The slate is clean and the possibilities are endless. Until you try to fall asleep after another self supporting, self aware, self indulgent and slightly selfish day... and the big empty space on the other side of the bed reminds you that you are so alone. However there is an easy remedy... sleep in the middle.
Which is fine until you wake up the next morning with a graphic reminder that you are starting another day... alone. . Because the thing about sleeping in the middle is that you are always 51 inches from getting out of the right side of the bed. Now this isn’t a challenge... it’s a bonefide problem. The problem being that that waking up marooned in the middle means you ALWAYS seem to be getting out of the wrong side of the bed.
They don’t call being in a bad mood before noon getting out of the wrong side of the bed for nothing. Starting the day with the reminder of your unchosen status in the centre of a berth made for two is not a great place to begin the day. Having to double bounce before you can swing your legs over the side is guaranteed to make even the mildest person grouchy, irritable and wistful.
And before you say, well... get a single bed... stop. It’s a bizarre thing that as adults we just can’t revert back to single beds with ease. Its one thing admitting you are alone, it’s another to hang up your hard won adult trophy of a grown up bed and purchase the size of bed you once had a child.
It wasn’t so bad back in the far distant days of my childhood (when hardly anyone I knew was divorced). Married couples slept in double beds. These strange items were barely 15 inches wider than a single bed, giving couples of my parents’ generation just 27 inches each of personal space. The beds were also quite short by modern standards being a mere 75” in length. I should imagine one of the highlights of being divorced was being able to sleep diagonally and keep your toes warm!
Somewhere along the line (I’m guessing Sweden with their obsession with having a good nights sleep and a decent snuggle) the idea of a bed 6" wider and 5" longer than a double bed caught on. By the 70’s the smallest bed you could find in most homes across the continent of Europe was this size... it became known as the Queen.
With lower airfares (thank you Freddy Laker) we Brits began to realise that our cousins over the pond didn’t leave supersizing to just their food portions and gas-guzzling cars. The Americans introduced us to the super-size bed. With a set of logic that deserves a standing ovation for is transparent simplicity the yanks couldn’t understand why it was that a European double bed was not double the size of a European single. An American double bed was 80 inches in length and 76 inches in width – it was a proper double bed. However they loved the fact that Europeans called their new slightly bigger double bed a Queen... so decided to rebrand their version of the double bed as a King. After all what in an American’s mind is bigger than a Queen?
Well as we all know after the western world embraced the American Double... sorry... King Size Bed... it was game over for single beds. Single beds became the preserve of children and elderly people who don’t get on (though to be fair most of them were happily snoozing solo in a Queen.) In fact beds just kept on getting bigger and bigger... the recently bought flat sheet for my sleep pit says it measures 274 x 259 cms (DAMN YOU IKEA ...what the hell is that in inches???)... but even I can figure that’s a little bigger than a King. (For my American readers... what is bigger than a King?... an Emperor?!)
When couples set up home, the master bedroom is commonly arranged to accommodate a king size bed. When couples split up, out goes the personal effects of the recently departed, in comes a whole variety of personal taste in the boudoir. It becomes a room of wild self expression. (Especially for someone like me who went from sharing with siblings straight to sharing with partners, [Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200 ...], who had never had her own bedroom decorating was a blast!). And yet there is still some restraint(unless one is really reckless) you stick with the old bed - you’ve just lost 50% of the income into the household so throwing out the 2nd most expensive piece of furniture is a no go. So there you are with a huge bit of furniture and the challenge is to make it your own.
So you shop till you drop and now the pillows match and co-ordinate with your new 180 – 500 thread count sheets and duvet. You even do what no couple (apart from the whipped variety) would ever do... go crazy with cushions and a pointless foot throw. Challenge won! You have made the bed your own.
But the problem remains....
Just how the hell does a singleton get out of the right side of Emperor sized bed?
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