It strikes fear in the hearts of lovers and newlyweds. Irritation in weary married couples. Arguments from siblings on vacation, forced to share a tiny room.
No make-up? No worries.
Snoring was all I could think about, pondering my first entire night with a new… friend. It wasn’t fear of waking in the morning, in the harsh light of day (and no make-up). I’m fine with the no make-up look; besides, a lick of mascara and liner remain, but shhhhh. Don’t tell.
It wasn’t about the extra five pounds I’d put on during winter (and never lost). I’m fine with that, too, especially in the right lingerie. (Thank you, French culture, for all you have taught me!)
It was the thought of sleeping in the same bed. All night. Actually sleeping. Would I snore without realizing? Would he? Would that be the end of a beautiful relationship?
FACT: Even Victoria’s Secret lingerie, mink-trimmed mules, and French perfume won’t mitigate night after night of snoring.
I watched it happen to my grandparents – the separation of beds, then rooms. That’s how sonorous the rumbling sound of my grandfather’s breathing became when he slept. My grandmother had simply removed herself from the aural line of fire – as much as it was possible in a tiny house.
In my own marriage, my ex could sleep through an earthquake (and did); I woke many hours before him, at the slightest stir. If I snored, he never knew it. And of course, neither did I.
Did he snore?
Occasionally. But he came to bed late, and I rose early. Very early. So the intersection of shared time in the sleep zone was limited. In fact, shared time was limited, period. He traveled. That gave me plenty of nights on my own in the cavernous space we called a bed.
None of which had to do with my immediate concern – would this relationship be slayed just as it was unfolding with so much promise? Would he snore, and worse (why worse, you might ask?) – would I?
Feminine fantasy (a.k.a. delusions of sexy sleeping)
FACT: Some women still like to think we have a touch of elegance, or a sort of “out of body” body that won’t show signs of age, necessary biological functions, or at the very least – loud noises when we’re sleeping of any sort. Of course I’m one of those women. Of course, I must be crazy.
I still don’t know. I suspect I snore – just a little. In a very pretty and delicate fashion, naturally. I also sleep lightly and wake easily, still, so if I snored like my grandfather, I think I’d wake myself up.
My new friend?
He smiles a lot. He does a lot of other things that are simple and pleasurable. Easy things that thoughtful men and women do as a matter of course. He brings me coffee in the morning. He takes my hand, and holds it exactly the way I like – though I never had to say what that was. It’s as though he reads my movements, my tiniest responses. And I hope I can read his as well.
Beauty (in the eyes of the beholder?)
Oh hell. Let’s face it, I could do laps in his eyes at a leisurely pace, until utterly exhausted. If he snores, he didn’t with me. Or I was so far adrift in those baby blues that I never heard a sound.
As for other potential observers of my ability to sleep in a dainty fashion? Few and far between, unless you count the dog. And I banished her from the bedroom about the same time as the husband departed.