Writing about Slumber Party Madness made me think of the times when friends would sleep much closer than in the living room or on the couch or in a sleeping bag on a blowup mattress on the floor: namely, in the bed with me.
1.
When my brother and I were kids, it would be a special treat/novelty for my mom to take us through the McDonalds drive-thru (if the dog was there, she would get a piece of cheese from the window clerk) and get snacks to take home and have a picnic on the living room floor while reading Calvin & Hobbes and other fun fare. Sometimes these picnics would turn into the three of us camping out on the pullout couch afterward with a fire crackling in the fireplace, and my mom would put on music and dance with us (most memorably to “Unchained Melody”) or go on and on singing us on-the-spot-invented lyrics to “The Streets of Laredo” or draw us pictures while inventing a story. I liked the fairy tales about Princess Stef going to the ball to meet up with Prince Whatever-Boy-She-Currently-Liked-at-School. My mom kindly spared no detail when it came to drawing and describing my gown and all its trappings and trimmings.
2.
I hosted a Slumber Party Madness event at The Mansion, partially because sleepovers are awesome and fun and should never be outgrown, and also because Pumpkins would be in town that weekend to take Bee on their first date, and SPM was a great, low-key way for everyone to hang out and the two of them to get to know each other. At the end of the night, Pumpkins slept in the living room with the rest of the gang while Bee slept in my bed that night to preserve her mystery (tee), and we were giggling in the dark until our faces hurt and she was whispering about how much she liked Pumpkins and how funny he was. On another occasion when she stayed in my room, she made a comment about the red-and-green abstract painting I’d made and had hanging on my wall. My intent had been to create something passionate, but she said it looked “sad” and “lonely.” Her interpretation gave me pause, it did.
3.
The President and I were friends for fifteen years before we first shared a tipsy smooch at a summer wine festival in the pouring rain. One moment we were laughing together and then he leaned in, and I had just figured, “What the hell?” It was fun and I had such a great buzz going on, and I could not even give the tiniest fuck about who was watching us or who cared. Now THAT was a great feeling.
At the end of the day, he stayed at my place, too tired and drunk to drive the twenty miles back to his apartment, so we split my bed. I felt anxious about the arrangement; after the wine fest, he’d told me he’d been interested in me for years, and as fortune would have it, he was about to move away in a couple months. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I didn’t feel in the right head space to want a relationship, and I anticipated that we wouldn’t be terribly compatible as a couple anyway. We lay there in the dark, awash in the light from the blue Christmas lights that wove around my headboard, and he released a deep sigh and asked something like, “Where’ve you been all these years?” It wasn’t a slick line; it was actually delivered quite sadly. But at the time, it didn’t really register in my brain, and I said something like, “Here” or “Around” or “Doing my thing” or “I don’t know. I’ve just been hanging out.” The last one sounds about right. And he, very politely and sweetly, was like, “Oh. I don’t really understand that answer but okay.” And then he fell asleep.
4.
The first night Honey Bear stayed over at The Penthouse, I instantly noticed how—and this is gonna be real, real gross, you guys—perfect we seemed to snuggle up to each other. Previously when I had slept next to a dude I liked, it was never actually very comfortable: There’s rarely been any good places to put anyone’s limbs, and so everyone awakes with the aches and pains that are more often associated with the elderly. But this time, it was super cozy. It was a happy surprise, and it felt like a really great sign.
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1 Comment on "The People in My Bed: Part 1"
Yes, Number one made Mom so happy that she gave you some good memories. You didn’t comment on my lovely singing voice and I probably know why. I enjoyed those fun in the living room sleep arrangements. Yup, I enjoy being a Mom and especially enjoy it when you and your brother comment on the good things.