The Fortress of Solitude

10 06 2011

It appears there’s a dirty little secret becoming more popular in the United States: couples sleeping in separate beds.   Statistics from the American Sleep Foundation confirm about 1 in 4 couples are onboard.  I know right?  But the ASF actually exists and this trend is legitimate.

Consider this my coming out of the closet moment.  Not only was sleeping alone one of the best moves I ever made, but it just may have saved my marriage.  The wife and I have been married nine years this July, together for ten this October.

To try and pinpoint how exactly this happened is pretty easy.  Most of us with kids have had the pleasure of an extra two to four tiny cold feet somehow ending up in our bed.  Now I don’t care if you have a California king, you are an established swinger, or both.  Four people in a bed is, as it turns out, three people too many.

I hung in there for years, sacrificing sleep for something I thought was supposed to be the norm.  But I’ll bet the tradition of couples sleeping together was based more on square footage, than actual desire.

In the early 1900’s, blue-collar men were building skyscrapers in New York.  Or working 16-hour days on the Golden Gate bridge in California.  I’m sure they thought every night at quitting time,  “Ah I can’t wait to get home, have some potato peel soup, and fight for covers and pillows.  If only my shanty was bigger than 300 square feet.”  Why do you think they didn’t wear harnesses?  If that were me, I’d go to work every day hoping to take a header off the top.  Finally, some peace and quiet.

Homes today are significantly bigger than in your grandparents’ time and in preceding generations.  I’m skipping our parents because, as baby boomers, it’s a given they usually mess something up so we can learn from their mistakes.  The marital bed is one of them.

Anyway, after a few years of this, one night around 1 a.m., I gave up and headed to the couch.  A defeated man can only handle so many sharp little toe nails, cold feet, and headbutts.  I’m not sure what it is about a headbutt when you’re asleep, but the evolutionary response is to come out of a deep sleep throwing punches.  For the safety of those involved, the writing was on the wall.  A long-term solution needed to be put in place.

The sofa is stage one on your roadmap to freedom and sanity.  It’s easy and doesn’t require too much thought.  You simply stagger toward it with a pillow in hand.  After a few nights you realize, “Hey, we have a perfectly good guest room.”  You make your way down the dark hall, aim for the middle and just face-plant on the nice cool pillow.   There are no other obstacles or boundaries so you naturally try to touch all four corners with your arms and legs.  It’s like taking the nacho with all the guacamole, cutting the center out of a birthday cake, or peeing in the pool.  All of these things are so wrong, but they feel so right.

Then, just like that, you’re hooked.  Like a junkie taking his first hit of heroin,  it becomes your reality.  This is no longer a guest room, it’s your Fortress of Solitude.

Just like Superman, when you have to get away from putting out fires, saving kids and damsels in distress, or dealing with your a-hole boss, you head to the Fortress.  It’s a place where you can get away from it all and collect your thoughts.  Of course, one of the keys to making this whole thing work is keeping it a secret.

Don’t let everyone in the house know how great it is and what you’ve got going on.  In the context of relaxation: kid’s are like little Lex Luthors, tiny evil geniuses and the wife is sadly similar to Kryptonite.  Once they know you’re having fun in there, they’ll want to start hanging out.  Then, before you know it, you’ve got popcorn and Skittles in the sheets, and you’re getting yelled at for a drool spot on the pillow sham.  Not cool.

In the coming weeks the wheels start turning.  “I’ll bet if I added a nice TV to that room, some discretely placed surround sound speakers and started a little movie collection, that would be pretty cool.”  Guys, don’t sell yourself short by retreating to the garage.  The “man cave” is a non-climate-controlled area for bottom feeders.  Believe me when I tell you the guest room is where it’s at.

Step up and be a man, make a stand.  Stop pretending to enjoy lame late-night television like: Law & Order, NCIS, CSI, etc.  Control your own destiny when it comes to late night programming.  As an adult, if you want to be able to watch Hot Tub Time Machine or Inglorious Basterds, that should be your right.

Since I moved in I’ve made a few upgrades.  Of course, as mentioned before, there is an extensive video library of more than 200 classics.  Dolby surround complete with a center channel.  Oh, by the way, I now have my own closet space, which was a major upgrade.  Guys with walk-in closets, you know what I’m talking about.  The wife takes all the high-rent areas, namely all those little cubby holes.  You get the one short bent bar in the corner.  Your stuff is so jammed in there it looks like it was air packed.

The common misconception is that something must be wrong with the relationship, which couldn’t be further from the truth.  Don’t kid yourself, you can profess your love for someone on Facebook as much as you’d like: “Our hearts beat together as one.”  Reality is, when you’re around someone all the time, it’s nice to get away and have your own space.  This includes “you” obligatory contrarian whiner, who I’m sure is thinking, “I can’t imagine being away from my soul mate blah blah blah.”

You just don’t get it, and chances are even though you’re all about being needy, your partner isn’t.  But it’s not all about me, it’s very much a two-way street.  The wife doesn’t have to listen to my “light” snoring, and she gets full control of her remote.  Not to mention the additional closet space.  I was compensated nicely for the additional closet space.  Apparently it’s a big deal.  Who knew?  Did I mention that Brad and Angelina sleep in different rooms?  That’s right, even Brad Pitt knows what’s up.

To be honest, for about a year or so I was reaping the benefits, while at the same time secretly embarrassed about the situation.  During conversations I would let slip, “my room” or “Ally’s room.”  This was usually met with a confused look, at which point I would come clean.  There were only a select few who new about this “arrangement.”   As time went by there was increasing chatter from this inner circle like, “Man, that must be nice” or  “How do I do it without her getting mad?”  To which I would respond, “You don’t choose the Fortress of Solitude, it chooses you.”  Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

I’m heading into year three of this little arrangement and I’ve noticed that things over the last few years have been the best between the wife and I.  Not sure anyone would argue that having a good nights sleep is not important.  When you have children, “alone time” is also at a premium.  Not just taking a break from a six- and eight-year-old, but taking a break from everything.  That includes each other.  Most adult couples our age, friends of ours, have to go through a magnum of wine to get the same effect.

Looking at things from my wife’s perspective, a stay-at-home mother.   Being around two small children all day is like being a deep-sea scuba diver .  When it’s bed/husband time, if she comes up too fast, she risks getting the bends.  To avoid the bends it is absolutely imperative that she spend time in a “decompression chamber.”

For those who don’t get the analogy, by “decompression chamber,” I mean alone time in her bedroom.  Light some candles, maybe take a bath and listen to some Bob Marley.  I don’t know if you’ve ever seen anyone with the bends, but they’re really close to what I would describe as “severe bitchiness.”  Every year millions of couples suffer from this affliction needlessly.  The more you know…

So we journey along the road in this thing called married life.  I with my “Fortress of Solitude,” her with her “Decompression Chamber” and all is right with the world.  I encourage you to join me is standing tall and proud.  Click that like button and behold the revolution!

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