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It’s Sunday morning and I’m woken up by someone knocking on my locked bedroom door. Confused, I roll over and grab my phone. It’s 10 o’clock, there are two missed calls and 32 text messages. The pounding more urgent. I sigh and open my door. Instead of Hagrid standing there with my Hogwarts letter, it’s my roommate looking like she got in a fight with her weave and her weave won.
“What the fuck do you want?” I spit at her, “Why is this even locked, and why haven’t you answered any of my texts or calls” she asks but doesn’t wait for my answer, “He won’t leave,” she says gesturing towards her room. “Can you come in and tell me we have to get ready for church?” she asks. I start laughing, because no one who was within ten feet of us last night would believe that lie.
Hank Moody said it best: “A morning of awkwardness is far better than a night of loneliness.” But why can’t I have a night without loneliness and a morning without awkwardness?
The fact is, I’m much happier in my bed without a person I barely know taking up room, snoring, and sweating out booze on my sheets. I’m not going to cook you breakfast, and I don’t want to eat the shitty under-salted eggs that you’ll make me. Yes, that’s a nice gesture, but the truth is, both of us are just wanting to get to brunch to brag about the night before.
So how do I get this drunk person who I’ve just had relations with out of my apartment without looking like a bitch who just used them for their body? I tell them the truth: “I don’t like to spend the night with someone unless we’re dating,” and it works surprisingly well. I come off as honest and if they don’t leave, they look like they have no chill. After they leave, I have the rest of the night to myself. I usually drunkenly eat whatever is in my refrigerator and cool down with a couple of episodes of The Office.
Do I always want to sleep alone? I’m not a robot, so of course I want to spoon. But to me, sleeping with someone, actually sleeping with someone, is much more intimate than sex. I know that’s backwards, and my parents would cry if they read these words. But when I compare the people that I’ve fallen asleep with to the people I’ve slept with, I know which ones I’ve felt an actual connection with. This is the reason that I don’t spend the night or have people sleep over. Sure, when I’m ready to find someone, they can share my bed. But until that time, I am extremely content with meaningless sex and a queen-size all to myself. .