I’ve always been vocal about the ups and downs of dating, especially as someone who, until recently, was a long-term relationship novice. But since meeting my partner almost three years ago, I’ve experienced a delightful dichotomy: overwhelming joy and a persistent confusion about how to navigate the ‘real relationship’ landscape.
I used to dread this very feeling, the uncertainty that sets in after the honeymoon phase. Friends would comfort me with the cliché that you ‘just know’ how to act in a committed relationship because it will feel natural. But honestly, ‘natural’ feels more like a euphemism for things like menstrual cramps and aluminum-free deodorant – not exactly things I’d celebrate.
To my surprise, my friends were mostly right. Even the daunting aspects of shared life – meeting each other’s parents, figuring out driving schedules, and navigating the awkwardness of ‘couple-y’ activities – have become enjoyable within the context of a happy and supportive partnership.
Despite the overall bliss, I still struggle with the occasional clash between my individual needs and those of our couple-dom. This is especially evident as we settle into living together after a year of long-distance dating. My partner, an extroverted Virgo, is always up for socializing. I, on the other hand, am a prickly Cancerian only child who craves solitude, particularly at night.
I love cuddling, watching silly YouTube videos in bed, and spending time together, but I’ve realized that I prefer to unwind and sleep alone. To be fair, my snoring made it impossible for my partner to get a good night’s sleep. The solution, a CPAP machine, solved that problem, but now I find myself reliant on my solo bedtime rituals: watching Real Housewives, snacking on popcorn, painting my toes, and catching up with my friends on FaceTime. This is how I drift off peacefully.
The question now is, should I try to eradicate this ‘single behavior’ or embrace a sleep divorce? I know many couples sleep separately without it impacting their relationship, but I worry about it. Without the reassuring context of past relationship experience, I’m afraid that splitting up, even for eight hours, will lead to a cold formality akin to the royal family.
However, my partner is cool with my nightly escapades. He actually welcomes the opportunity to have uninterrupted sleep and to keep his sheets free from popcorn dust and nail polish.
Ultimately, I believe we’ll be fine, whether we share a bed, sleep in separate rooms, or adopt a ‘I Love Lucy’ style twin-bed setup (the worst-case scenario). The reassuring voices of my friends, who have shared their own experiences, have helped me realize that sleep isn’t some magic ritual that binds you together.
Sleep is hard, regardless of your relationship status. Maybe it’s time to stop worrying and appreciate the fact that we managed to snag an affordable two-bedroom in Los Angeles. After all, true love might be rare, but a good real estate deal? That’s even more elusive.
