have i said this, i don’t like sharing a bed. i don’t know why. maybe it’s years and years of sharing hotel beds with my sisters. it’s really unclear who actually kicks because it seems like everyone does and no one does. or none of us want to admit it. my little sister for REAL steals the covers. that’s confirmed. as we’ve gotten older it’s calmed down a lot, so most of it was probably us being tiny kid assholes. i know that i roll around a lot in my sleep. i fidget. i can’t get comfortable. i don’t really like sharing the covers with people. i like to have my own blanket so i can really wrap myself up in it, like a taco. but i haven’t shared a bed with many of my intimate partners. (that was a big jump there, sorry). just one. just my first. and honestly, just a few times. and it was always strange because bed meant sex for us, for a really long time. it was hard (no pun intended) because when we started being intimate there were so few private spaces for things like that. and we were also completely busy. late to bed, early to class. it was hard to find time to do anything in a nice way. in a comfortable way. so even the few times he did sleep over, we’d be silent and bleary-eyed in the morning. and we never just were IN bed. ever. and he would always try to hold me when we slept and i’d always roll away. because i don’t really like sharing a bed. or maybe i just didn’t like sharing one with him, i don’t really know. i haven’t had much of an opportunity to figure it out since then.