Pythagoras in the Bedroom

Everyone knows that sharing a bed with someone is a simple matter of geometry.

Everyone, that is, except for my husband.

When I sleep, I lie with my head at the headboard and my feet at the footboard. If you were to draw a straight line through the two, that line would be perpendicular to the headboard and footboard. This doesn’t mean that I sleep like I’m a board; my knees crook, my arms extend from my body, and I relax. But, in general, the line of my body forms right angles with the headboard and footboard.

When Charles has full reign of the bed, however, he does not observe this tendency toward geometric simplicity. The line of his body becomes a diagonal, forming angles with the headboard that are NOT right. (If something’s not right, that means it’s wrong.) Not only is he not in line perpendicularly, but his arms splay out in all directions so that somehow, this one man inhabits all of the space in our king-sized bed.

This approach does not alter when we share the bed. My line is perpendicular; his is not. This means that our lines intersect, usually somewhere around the legs. Intersecting lines may look all sexy on a graph, but in practice, create complications in bed. Limbs have to accommodate other limbs, certain bony knees dig into unsuspecting thighs. A long-range plan of comfort and relaxation depends on the two sleepers being parallel lines. As stated in one of those geometric theorems from long ago, parallel lines do NOT intersect.

They can however, run alongside one another, on and on, forever. Parallel lines have staying power. And spooning power. Spoons nestle into each other; they don’t intersect. So, to spoon successfully, you have to remember not to intersect; otherwise, you’re just forks.

A Place to Put an Elbow

Relationships own silverware. There you find the fine china. A one night stand doesn't net you a set of fine spoons and forks like a relationship that's culminated in a wedding. A one night stand or occasional sex buddy may get you a fork now and then, but the spoons, they only come with someone more intimate. With the right relationship you get a whole plethora of implements useful for any situation. You can whip out the carving knife for a deadly assault or smooth something over with the pleasant panacea poised on your butter knife. You can even fork 'til you spoon. All the things you need are found in the kitchen drawers that come with a right proper relationship. It's with this in mind that I consider the endless battleground that is my bedtime.

If you've ever spent an hour on hold to an 800 number waiting to get an answer to a problem from a guy in India and wondered, "who does this guy call for help?" then wonder no more, it's me. Because of this, 3 days a week I stay up all night to babysit some servers, run a few backups, and solve problems for a bunch of very nice folks in Hyderabad. By and large, it's not a bad gig. The problem of such a gig, however, is the overwhelming monopoly it gives my wife on bedtime resources.

For 3 days my wife gets to engage in conquest the likes of which ancient gods would appreciate. The world of our king size bed becomes a surface unto which the might of MEGAN shall conquer. Pillows fall beneath her might. Entire comforters have become pulled into the war machine that are her arms. The frame itself has sometimes moved, seemingly in terror at her might. Then on the 4th day, I arrive.

My presence disturbs her Mitty-esque adventure. Instead of a pillow and cover devouring goddess, my wife finds herself a mere mortal in a tug-of-war for space. We bring ourselves back to the mundane world where you try to figure out if you should fork or spoon and how the heck do you spoon with this spare arm in the way? Apparently my back is a good place to store an elbow.