I Love The Man….But I Want My Own Bedroom

I was married for almost twenty years and then lived on my own for the past five, until last year when my man of two years and I decided to cohabitate. Not gonna lie...I loved living alone. And when I say alone I mean alone with my three kids, a cat and a dog. I loved it; coming home from work, making dinner for my gang, retreating to my bedroom after the dog was walked and turning on the TV to whatever I wanted to watch. Baseball, gritty dramas, QVC, CNN. And then turning off the lights and ahhhh…peace and quiet and a whole entire bed all to myself. Well, ok, there was a cat on one side of me and a little dog on the other...but minor fury distractions if that.

I dated a few men before I met this man. Not one time was there one moment I would have considered living with any of them. Sure...a few steamy nights here and there, but then I was happy to send them on their merry way and I was happier to get my bed back. For a few years I was convinced that I never wanted to live with a man again. And then I met this man. He is sweet, generous, patient, successful and most important, good to my kids. We have been easy together from the get go. He was the one who brought up living together. I mean, I thought about it, but I was financially struggling mother of three who barely made ends meet each month. Who would want to take on that burden? He did.

So last May we found a house and took the plunge.

It’s been a good plunge except for one little thing….HIS SNORING!

And I mean loud, deafening, there is no way I am getting to sleep snoring! And it seems to be getting worse. The other night I ended up turning with my head at the foot of the bed and feet at his head trying and get a little relief. And I think that only worked because I had a couple of drinks at dinner. The funny thing is...it was a Tuesday. Tuesday nights are when my kids are with their dad for dinner. This use to be “date night.” This use to be the night we would dine out, have a couple of glasses of wine and then go back to his place for hot you know what. (Yes, to my daughter reads all my blogs...folks in their 50’s still have hot you now what.)

Date night has taken on a whole new meaning since we come home to a house full of teenagers. There is no more hot you know what. Maybe that is why I am cranky about the snoring…

I never noticed the snoring before we lived together. We would spend every other weekend together and while I am sure he breathed loudly once in awhile, it never once entered my mind while we were looking for a home to share together. I never once said to myself, “Great house, but where is my room?” I thought I was happy just getting nice sized “our room.” It could be there was not a lot of sleeping going on? What? Just laugh, dear daughter.

To his defense, I am a very light sleeper. I have a hard time getting to sleep and a hard time staying asleep. He moves...I move...He gets up to pee...I might as well cause I am awake. He snores...I turn...fold my pillow over my ears...work on my next book  in my head. I do anything do try and drown it out. It is no use. And he sleeps on his back. But even on the very desperate nights when I gently coax him to his side, he snores. When my kids are not in the house, I sneak to one of their beds, or to the couch. He feels bad and tries to coax be back in the wee hours of the morning...after he has woken himself up with his own snoring.

So I ask you? Am I terrible? I feel terribly ungrateful. I went from a two bedroom one bathroom, ancient, dilapidated house with no dishwasher, a heater that only heated the hallway, and a bullet hole (albeit small) in the front window. Alright, so it was only a BB gun, but a hole is a hole and the owner wouldn’t fix it!  My son’s room was the pantry off of the kitchen.


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