Thursday 16 April 2009

New project - please contribute!

The days are getting longer and the temperature has risen to above hibernation levels, so I thought it's time to make a new piece! It's hopefully for this July, but it all depends on the input of friends and colleagues.

So here's the deal: The starting point is bed etiquette. I would love honest anecdotes, habits, funny or serious, pleasant or unpleasant experiences etc. From the mundane to the downright crazy, anything you have will be most useful. As always, honesty is the key. You can contribute anonymously (unless you're dying to tell me who you are) by posting a comment to this blog.

Thank you all for reading and for contributing.

x Despina

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

One ex-partner used to punch and kick me during the night. She was quite oblivious to it, and insisted that there was no underlying psychological demons behind it, but it was rather disturbing.

I've always been a light sleeper, so I've never been able to fall asleep (and stay asleep) in my partner's arms. It can seem quite unromantic to break this to someone, but necessary to avoid sleep deprivation.

Anonymous said...

I'm also an incredibly light sleeper...and duvet wars, snoring and flailing limbs can all leave me awake, desperate and wired!

My partner also has this funny habit of slipping from real conversation in to sleep conversation which can become quite absurd but very entertaining. I ask him questions back in his sleep state, trying to get an insight in to the world or landscape he's inhabiting, often it sounds really interesting or important. He can't always get a reply together though -being asleep 'n all- and often only a few key words make it out between the mumbles leaving me wildly speculating and day dreaming myself about what's going on, wishing I could slip in to that world.

In terms of getting ready for bed, I find I have to go through a getting sleepy process first, and can't simply decide it's time for bed, put my head on the pillow and switch off. I'm always jealous of the people who can. If I overstep the 'getting sleepy process', I find I'm wide awake again. If someone engages me in interesting or important conversation during that time, a light goes on in my head and I'm completely awake again. Talking to my girlfriends this seems to be more common amongst the women than men in my peer group, and I often wonder why? Is it a cultural sense of responsibility for others and what's going on around you? Are we deep-wired to respond to a baby's calls in the night and spring in to action?
I'd be interested to know if others have the same experience...

Anonymous said...

I sleep in the buff, so getting ready is easy, however, if the other person is new in my life I wear a t-shirt and undies, common courtesy.

When i'm asleep on my back sometimes I snore, which can be a pain for the other person, recently I woke up and asked "I didn't keep you awake did I?", "no, I just rolled you over". Quickest way to stop a snorer, roll em'!

I recently had someone fall to sleep on top of me. I was comfortable and they seemed dead to the world so we just lay there. In the morning they woke up with a little bit of drool on my chest, looked up, giggled and rolled off.

Texting in bed. Put the f***ing thing away, you've been on it all day.

Anonymous said...

Its happened a few times, but one occassion waking up in a strange bed was incredibly disorientating. Especially as I tied one on the night before. I'm usually awake earlier, whether its a comfy bed or not. As my groggy eyes adjust to a unfamiliar ceiling or some furniture or windows I don't recognise, my head's thumping with the reminder of too much booze but my curiousity is anxious find out where I am and whether I need to make a quick escape. At this point, I'm not even sure how high the bed is, a quick may lead to injury. Then there's a slight movement next to me, and the lump under the duvet tells me that there'll be no escape that way. So like a private dick trying solve my own mystery, I start looking for evidence and retracing my steps. A Celtic top hanging on the headboard above me is the sufficient trigger. I'm in Glasgow, I went with loads of mates to see the Pogues last night and blurry memories start flooding back. In the videotape of my mind I'm jigging like a mad eejit with this young woman. The tape is paused and I jolt upright to view the covered lump beside me. I continue the tape and she's waving as she leaves with her boyfriend who is staring with murderous intent as she pulls him away. Tara now. Fast forward to the early hours, my mates have all go up to bed and I'm left with our host's mother, listening to her stories and nodding at each invite fro another wee dram. And then it hits me. Jesus, no! Not that, she's a fine woman, but she's me mate's mother. What would he say? How will his father take it. I'll be hung, drawn, quartered, ostracised. Very definitely deported back to London. Getting worried now. I try hard to repress a fart, but it will not be denied and the sound reverberates around the room. Up comes a welcome hairy Scottish face from under the duvet beside me. "More tea vicar?" Thank you Mick, in my relief I nearly kiss him. "Steady on now, Big Fella"

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