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What side of the bed do you sleep on?
When you’re young and you have a twin bed, this is not really an issue – there’s only one side of a twin bed. If you have tried to share a twin bed with someone, you will probably have discovered that, if you are the one sleeping next to a wall, when you roll over you CAN break your nose on said wall. Trust me on this.
At some age, perhaps early teens, many of us graduate to a double bed.
And if you try to go back to sleeping in a twin bed for any length of time after you move to a double bed, you run a very high risk of falling out of bed. Trust me on this one too. And believe me when I tell you that hitting the floor as a dead weight in the middle of the night is a distrubing way to wake up.
It seems, and maybe it’s just my perception, that the size of every bed has changed over the last 48 years. Kelsea’s twin bed seems much larger to me than my twin bed growing up, or the twin beds in the room we share at the beach for that matter. Double beds seem smaller – queen beds seem more like what I remember double beds to be. And king-size beds seem huge, with the California King being huger than huge. I’ve always wondered why they named it California King. If it’s a description of size, then shouldn’t it have been named Texas King?
During my entire married life, I slept on my husband’s right. I don’t know why. He was left-handed, but I don’t think that had anything to do with it. On the rare occasions when we tried to change sides, it just felt so wrong. And now that I am single, the idea of sleeping on anyone else’s right side feels wrong. I imagine I would wake up in a confused fog, thinking that Pat was the person next to me, and that’s really not an episode any courtship needs. But I could deal with sleeping on someone else’s left side.
When Kelsea and I took road trips last year, we sometimes had to share a bed, and it didn’t matter what side I was on. Thinking back, it was her right side in Tucumcari and Cheyenne, her left side in Cimarron and Durham. Apparently, when it’s not a romantic partner, it makes no difference, although with her, I tend to take the side closest to the door, in order to protect her from intruders (which really makes no sense at all).
In my own massive bed, I sleep on the left side (as viewed from my position lying on my back in the bed). The right side is a dark territory into which I rarely venture, like the wilds of the Amazon, as yet fully unexplored. Every so often, I’ll wake up lying sideways or diagonally across the bed, but I never start out of the right side, and I never wake up there. I’m sure part of the reason is because the light switch is on the left side, but I know that’s not all of it.
It’s truly a psychological thing. When I moved out, I wanted to change everything. Since I took almost nothing from the family home, since Kelsea (and of course, Pat) were still living there, I bought furniture. (Thank heavens I was working at the time.) Everything was new to me, which fit well with the idea of leaving my old life behind and making a fresh start. So I deliberately chose to sleep on the opposite side of the bed from that which I’d slept on for the past 24 years.
And now, here I am, on the other side of the bed. I dislike the fact that the side to my right is empty, but I hope that will change in time. It certainly leaves a lot of room for exploration in the future.