Chicken a la Queen

When my girlfriend and I moved into our apartment we bought a bed for me for appearances. There were people we weren't "out" with, people who just wouldn't accept it if we were and people we just didn't care to have the conversation with.

So since there was not enough space for two beds and at least one desk in our one bedroom apartment we bought me a lofted twin bed - a "Gulliver" from Ikea - with a built in desk underneath for my computer.



When we moved into our two bedroom (one floor up) the bed was put in the room which was "my" room. We still slept together in the Queen however.

Now the thing is - if anybody thought about it - there was no way I would have ever slept in the Gulliver because I'm uncomfortable with heights. Also - the ceiling is not much farther up from the bed. (We later had a house guest who slept in the bed, woke up and sat up with a jerk - hitting her head on the ceiling and ending up with a small scab right smack in the middle of her forehead from the popcorn ceiling.)

Originally I had declared that if we ever broke up there was NO WAY she was kicking me out of the Queen - we would just have to put a divider between us or something.

This proved unrealistic when we actually separated. Up until a couple of weeks ago we were still sleeping together... mentally keeping ourselves "separated" and taking trips or housesitting... and then finally just giving in and cuddling. Then we had a "Come to Jesus" meeting and decided that this arrangement wasn't going to work so I had to figure something out.

So I moved my lovely pillow-top twin mattress off of the top of the Gulliver and onto the floor - where I would sleep. The first week I slept half there and half in the Queen.

Now we've weaned some more and I've spent the whole week on the mattress on the floor. This, by the way, is HORRIBLE. I didn't realize how important box springs (or thin boards - per the Gulliver) were! This arrangement is dreadfully uncomfortable. I hate it. I know, also, that the now-ex hates sleeping alone because she's cuddling with whatever large stuffed thing she can find.

And by mid-week we'll be giving our notice to the apartment managers letting them know that we'll be moving. ....

And it keeps feeling like we're playing this one big game of chicken... waiting to see who'll call who on the break-up-move-out-move-on bluff.