The King and I

Spike is on his soap box again. He insists we buy a king sized bed. I try to ignore him when he gets like this. No good can come of it.

Its true, we both infuriate each other to the point of physical abuse during the night when it comes to defending our alloted halves of the bed. I insist on equal territory even though Spike is twice my size. However, I've received many a quick elbow to the ribs when accidentally crossing the demarcation line and I'm not above jabbing him with my thumbs when he carelessly oozes into my half during his sleep. We don't share blankets and rarely even speak once the lights are out. We were forced to sleep on a full sized mattress for a few months and after two weeks had established full silent treatment day and night. There are few more demanding endeavors than maintaining the silent treatment on a full sized mattress, but we pulled it off brilliantly. No matter how much I cater to him during the day, once the lights are out it's every man for himself.

I've spoken to dozens of smug women who gush about how happy they are on their full sized mattresses. How delightful it is to snuggle all night with their one true love. "Who needs a king?" they ask dreamily, "we basically sleep on top of each other!" When their spouse leaves town for a night they panic - their Snugglepuss is gone and sleep is impossible. I give these people a bitter smile. The sweet snugglers. Those who would be more than happy to sleep on a twin mattress . Those who don't even need blankets in winter because their shared body heat more than warms their slumber. How I hate them.

Buying a king sized bed would end our bloody bedtime wars. We would smile placidly at each other across the great expanse, Spike would build his three foot wall of pillows, I'd switch off the light and we'd roll up in our assigned blanks for a peaceful night free of elbows and cursing. Theoretically it would be better for our marriage just as getting our own bathrooms was better for our marriage. But secretly I want to be one of those smug women gushing about my cozy nighttime rituals. I know that after six years of marriage the likelihood of us becoming snugglers is slim yet I refuse to let this fanciful dream wither away. We'll continue our night battles as long as I can hold him off from buying that hateful king.

Someday I'll let down my guard and Spike will get his precious expansive bed. Then a few years later I'll find myself sleeping in the bedroom down the hall. After another ten years or so Spike will construct a separate apartment behind the main house for me to sleep in. In fifty years we'll have completely forgotten the intimate delights of jabbing your beloved in the ribs at two in the morning. It may not be the most affectionate kind of physical nighttime contact, but I'll take a jab to the gut anyday over nothing at all. Down with the King!