For the first three years of my first marriage, my husband and I slept in a queen-size bed.
Then we moved to another state and spent three months sleeping in my former mother-in-law's king-size bed beneath a crucifix hanging on the wall. (My Jewish-Catholic daughter was conceived in that bed.)
Sleeping in a bed that size took some getting used to because we were really, really far apart. Literally and, as I found out a few years later, metaphorically too. I'm not saying that's why I got divorced, though it would be nice to be able to blame it on an inanimate object.
I'm just saying that a king-size bed was too big for me to have an intimate relationship with my husband. Not too big to have sex in but too big to be physically close. Too much personal space.
I've since remarried and my second husband and I sleep in a queen-size bed. It feels right. But, of course, there are those times when I don't want to be close to him. Those times when I feel like I'm sleeping next to an old dog that passes gas and snores. But most of the time, I like knowing that my husband is in the bed with me. The warmth of his body, the sound of his breathing, the feel of his morning wood. It's comforting.
I feel differently when we're on vacation. Then, a king-size bed in a hotel room is a novelty. It's fun, like being on a giant trampoline with lots of fluffy pillows and fancy, high thread count sheets. And of course, there's the in-room porn.
But after a few days, or a week, of that, I'm happy to get back to my own smaller and cozier bed with its dutch ovens and bodily noises. Life is all about trade-offs.
Does the size of your bed affect your intimacy level?
Image via U-g-g-B-o-y-/Flickr
