When Justin is gone...

For the first ten months we were married, Justin and I were never apart for more than maybe eight hours at a time. We spent every night in the same bed. I was so used to sleeping in my own room, in my own bed, before we got married, that I had no idea how easy it would be for me to sleep next to someone else. I used to be kind of an insomniac. I sleep so much better now than I did before we got married, and that's accounting for the occasional snoring, although Justin's not so bad in that respect.

Since that initial period, we've each gone on trips of a week or more without the other at least once, and Justin often goes to DC or NYC for a few days to see his friends. I like his friends, but since they mostly sit around in their apartments, watch extremely long subtitled movies about the Nazis or whatever, and talk about politics, I don't feel like I'm missing out on as much as if they were going out in the city--and come to think of it, I don't like going out, although I like the idea of it. So I usually stay home, although I've gone up to DC a few times.

I have a love/hate relationship with being at home by myself. I really liked living alone for the three years that I did; it's nice to be by myself, spend my time however I like, get things done without distraction (I cleaned a lot the last time Justin was in NYC), and cook things Justin doesn't like to eat, like anything with beans. On the other hand, I've gotten so used to sharing the bed that I have a hard time sleeping on my own. I get more nervous about strange noises than I ever did when I was living alone, although at least I can blame the cats when things go bump in the night. And of course I generally like having him around, because he's my husband and I love him and I love doing stuff with him. You know. That stuff that you thought I was talking about. And other stuff.

And sometimes I start thinking about old stuff. I was not very successful with boys before I met Justin. I never had a proper boyfriend. I always wanted one. In the long, long period before the light at the end of the tunnel, I never knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel, so I have spent the past four years in perpetual amazement that 1. I liked a guy 2. who liked me! 3. and bad things didn't happen! 4. and now we're married!, so when the cause of that happiness temporarily betakes himself to other venues, and I have long nights alone, it is easier to think about the days when I didn't know from experience that all this goodness was possible. Otherwise I don't think about it, unless I'm trying to sympathize with single friends, and since I have so few single friends anymore, it's just as well that I don't think about it.

This last time Justin was in NYC, we'd just spent a solid month and a half together on our road trip, and then at the lake house, so I think it was good for us both to get a little space for a while. But it is good when we are both at home again, sharing the same bed, snoring and sprawling and stealing the covers from each other.