I Want to Sleep on a Twin-sized Bed

I want to sleep on a twin-sized bed. A strange wish for a woman of 36 I know. And I just don't want to sleep on a twin-sized bed alone. I want company. As with most things in my life the universe had to tell me twice (well maybe three times). And it all started almost twenty years ago.

I've told the story to two different men ( I guess one could say too different men also because they are like day and night) and gotten two different responses.

But it's about a third man at least in the beginning. Almost twenty years ago I started seeing my college boyfriend Doug. But I still lived in the dorm and he had entirely too many weird roommates (apologies to John, Greg and Eddie). So there was a choice to be made. And for some odd reason a guy well over six feet tall choose to sleep with me on a twin-sized bed. And not just now and then. All the time, every night for an entire semester. I'm not sure how it really worked but it did.

And then I moved to Nashville to be with him and our furnished studio had a full-sized bed. And the following year we bought a house and a queen-sized bed arrived. And three years after that we returned to Michigan and a huge king-sized bed arrived.

And then we were done.

Doug and I didn't make it as a couple but we're still great friends. I've known him half my life and no matter what happens we always want the best for each other. A few years ago we were out catching up over dinner. And he said to me, "Remember sleeping on that tiny bed together? It should have been miserable but I don't think we were ever happier. And as the bed got bigger I think our relationship got worse." And I thought about sleeping on the far edge of the king-sized bed for the last few weeks, so far away that I couldn't even touch him. He was right. The bed was a metaphor for our entire relationship. "What you need," he said, "was someone you really would sleep with on a tiny bed."

A few years later I was enjoying the post sex afterglow, snuggled under someone's arm. "This is really nice," he said. "What's really nice?" And to my surprise it wasn't the view or the decorating. "The bed." And that's when I started with the squinty look. "This is a queen size right? It's nice; you're not so far away. We had a king and I spent the whole night trying not to touch her." And then I told him my bed size theory.

What I really want is someone to sleep on a tiny bed with again.