I hinted around in a comment on Joe's blog today, but didn't think it was the appropriate place to say this outright: I sleep nekkid.
Don't think this is necessarily the appropriate place either, but since when have I been Miss Manners? heh.
When I was in college, a girl down the hall from me slept naked. I thought she was NASTY. I felt so sorry for her roommate. I couldn't imagine sleeping naked at all, let alone in the room with another GIRL. Bless my soul and cover my eyes!
But Stacy has grown more relaxed and less conservative in her old age, and these days, I can't imagine sleeping with clothes ON. Well, wait. I can imagine it, because from time to time, it's necessary that I do it. Last weekend, Darren and I spent the night in a friend's guest room, and though she might not have cared if we slept naked, we didn't. (The jolly gentleman who hosted our stay at a B&B the next night certainly didn't care, and we certainly didn't either. BWA!)
Occassionally, I share a room with 3 other scrapping friends when we go on weekend retreats. Sometimes, when necessity calls for it, I even end up sharing a double bed with one. Always, ALWAYS, I sleep in pajamas on such occasions. But even so, I always, ALWAYS dream that I've forgotten to wear them! Either I dream that I've kicked my covers off overnight and am exposing myself to a dozen girls and their flashbulbs, or that I've cuddled up against someone in my bare slumber and freaked the shedaisies out of 'em. In my half-awake freak-out, I grope my body here and there to confirm that, YES, I am wearing pajamas. Then I open one eye to make sure people aren't planning scrapbook layouts featuring my shiny hiney before drifting back to dreamland.
What do these dreams MEAN?
(Just kidding. Don't tell me.)
I know from where they stem. Before Darren and I were legally married, we were "doin' it". A few months before our wedding, we spent the night at his parents house, and out of respect for them (and because they didn't know yet), we slept in separate bedrooms. I was appointed to his sister's room. At some point in the night, I rolled over and draped my arm across him. Immediately upon touching that soft, nasty-warm skin, I jerked back in horror. It wasn't him, it was HER! I lay there frozen, my mind racing, wondering if she thought I was makin' a move on her whilst engaged to her brother, worryin' that she'd TELL ON US to her parents....
but she never flinched. To this day, I don't know if she felt that cuddle or not. But it set off a series of nightmares that I still experience when sharing a room with someone other than my honey.
I happen to be in the market for new jammies. Must be satiny, 'cause that's cool to the touch. Must not stick to me if I get hot. Must not tangle around my legs. Must not bind in the arms or waist. Must not have spaghetti straps that slip off my shoulders and pin me in awkward positions. Must not have built-in boobie-holders, 'cause those just.don't.work for me. Must cover all the necessary parts but not parts that don't need to be covered. Methinks they don't exist.