My husband and I moved in together senior year of college. It was awesome. Not only did he feed me, he also satisfied my snuggle addiction.
I’m a heat seeking missile when I sleep. If there is warmth in the bed, I will find it. I will cuddle you and steal all your body heat whether you like it or not. I am so notorious for this fact that growing up, I always got my own bed when we were all packed into hotel rooms. No one wanted to wake up with me on their head.
Luckily, the husband creates an excess of body heat, so he doesn’t mind my frozen little tooshy cuddling up to him in the middle of the night. In fact, he got so used to sleeping with my demanding little spoon, it became a bit on an issue.
Fall semester senior year, my husband had to do weekend-long mini tour of a show. The university decided to save money by putting four to a room, two to a bed. No big deal really. At least so my then fiancé thought as he fell asleep next to a freshman boy.
He slept well and woke up refreshed next to a wide-eyed, terrified freshman. Whom he had, unwittingly, forcibly spooned all night.
Needless to say, my husband now only shares a bed with me. If beds have to be shared with others, he has to sleep on the floor.