My husband and I don’t have sides of the bed. Mostly it’s my bed, and I place his body heat where it is most convenient for me. Not really, I just insist on being cuddled. So, if his left shoulder is bothering him, I switch sides so he can sleep on his right side without the possibility of my butt getting cold. Call me spoiled, but no one likes a cold butt.
So, it made me wonder, aside from the obvious co-dependency, what else in our marriage is strange? I don’t cook, ever. If I try, I cause fires, stomachaches, and tears. I do all the money things. We don’t do secrets. We know all our passwords to everything. Not that we don’t trust each other. We are just often too lazy to pass the computer to check email.
We spend, I would say, a solid 90% of our time together. Which will make retirement easy. He won’t be saying, “I just need some time away from my wife!” He’s never gotten any of that, so he should be well used to it in fifty years.
We tend to speak in code without meaning to. The concept of me turning off an alarm is something that he gave up on years ago. The alarm goes off, I pick it up, roll over, and put it on his stomach. It’s like turning the alarm off without actually opening my eyes.
I was asked yesterday which last name I wanted on the wall for a show: my maiden name, which is technically my stage name; my married name, which I only use for making appointments; or the whole hyphenate. And I didn’t care. It’s all the same to me. We are one creepy, happy little unit. It doesn’t matter what my last name is. We are a team, whatever the jersey says. We have a whole group of friends who have disposed of our names entirely. We are known simply as The Marrieds. People know us as The Marrieds before they have ever even met us, and I don’t mind.
I suppose this whole sappy post is just to say I am thrilled to be a part of an inseparable unit. Even if I have to move my pillow every night.