I am still as choosey as ever. I can name all the men I have slept with and count them on my fingers. My numbers game is still low, but impressive to me, given the fact that I’ve only been in this game for “X” amount of time.

I’ve had adult sleep overs with almost all of these men. It was fine until I hooked up with the second to last man. For some strange reason he had questions about my sleeping habits in the morning. He paid way too much attention to me and since I wasn’t as interested it annoyed the shit out of me.

“Do you know you twitch? You also kinda lightly snore. Do you need a sleep mask to keep light out? Why do you sleep with your arm over your eyes?”

FUCK.

I was so irritated. I couldn’t stand the fact this dude wanted to figure me out in this intimate sense. From my perspective he had no right to ask such questions. I didn’t mind the sex, I enjoyed the sex. But only one man knows all of those things about me and I was in love with him for him to figure all of it out. This guy wasn’t worthy of acquiring that information, you learn that as we go along, not just because we spent the night together.

This may sound completely opposite to some of you, but I’d rather share my body than my bed. Both are extremely private, thus my low number, but sleep is golden… there is a certain temperature / pillow count / pillow softness / exposed skin vs. blanket ratio / side of the bed preference / etc. etc. etc. that someone can only learn over time with the privilege of having repeated intimacy.

So I might allow you to sleep with me—you just can’t sleep with me.