I write a lot about dating for this particular site, especially as someone who had never been in a long-term relationship until recently. (Or maybe that’s why I write so much about dating; what else is there to cover in-depth in a couple’s love nest?) But since I met my current partner almost three years ago, I’ve done two things at once. Show the “real relationship” within yourself.
I used to worry about this phenomenon until I’d been dating someone for more than six months, and I hated it when my friends would console me and think that you must know that this is how it behaves in a real relationship, because that’s what would feel “natural”. Even the things that bother me the most are the distant realm of other people’s relationships, like meeting each other’s parents, finding out who drives and who dreams, like looking out the window and finding out that they’re okay is, in some cases, really interesting.
Despite all this happiness, I can’t help but guess that my personal needs are different from my partner’s needs, or what’s best for us as a couple, which is exactly the situation we’re in. After living together, you find you’ve been dating long distance for a year. My partner is extroverted by nature and is more or less always willing to hang out, but being an only child with Cancer I feel I need my own space – especially at night. I used to love hugging, cuddling and watching obscure YouTube clips for hours in bed, but I realised for the first time that I need to spend most of our time with each other and I like to relax.
To be honest, it took me a long time to get used to sleeping alone, even in a relationship. When we actually started living in the same city, my partner and I quickly realized that my snoring was the reason he couldn’t get a good night’s sleep. It turns out that the solution to this problem is relatively simple and even covered by insurance — a CPAP machine! — but now that I sleep in the same room at night without disruption, I feel like I’ve established my nightly routine, which includes watching Real Housewives, eating microwave popcorn, painting my toenails, and chatting with faraway friends on FaceTime, so I can sleep peacefully. Is all of this my secret single behavior that I should put an end to as soon as possible, or do we just need to sleep through a divorce?
I know that many couples sleep apart without it having any effect on the intimacy of the relationship, but I still can’t help but worry. In the absence of the reassuring context of past direct relationship experiences, I worried that living apart (even with just eight hours of sleep) would lead to the apathy that my partner and I would feel from going through the formalities of being members of the British royal family. I also know that my partner doesn’t mind if I go to my room to watch dirty TV and eat a snack after he’s gone to sleep — in fact, he’ll appreciate the chance to not be disturbed and enjoy his sheets and toenail polish stains.
Ultimately, I think my partner and I will be fine whether we share a bed, sleep in separate rooms, or have two twin beds in one room I like Lucy style (aka worst case scenario). But that’s only because I have access to a wide range of friends who assure me through their own anecdotal experiences that sleeping together is actually not some magical ritual that binds you together. The truth is, whether you’re single, in a relationship, or with a secret third, sleep can be hard to come by, so maybe it’s time to stop worrying and start living in what feels like the last affordable, rent-controlled two-bedroom in America. It’s time to learn to praise God. (True love may be disappearing, but a good real estate deal? Even rarer.)
