State Of The Union: Dear Future Husband, Here’s Why We Should Have Separate Bedrooms

Dear Future Husband,

I know I’ve sulked enough about not getting my morning cuddles and sleepy giggles with you. And I’m fully aware that I’ve ranted endlessly about not being served breakfast in bed while we watch Fight Club for the 157^th time. But hear me out when I say this, for I’ve given as much thought to it as I have to wondering what the Targaryen family tree from Game of Thrones looks like – which is a lot more than I’m willing to admit.

Without beating around the bush then – we need to have separate bedrooms. And this statement is not restricted to only until we’re courting so that I can cheekily proclaim my chastity to the world. It means I’m going to have this line inserted somewhere into our vows, right between ‘I promise to forsake whatever diet I’m on to have junk food with you once a month’ and ‘I promise to sit through movies on World War II without nodding off’. Make no mistake, this does not mean my fondness for you has worn off with the passage of time. It only means that now that we have been released from the throes of teenage romance, our love can simmer down to something that allows us to bloom individually. And it begins with having the time and mostly, the space to ourselves.

I had to take a break from typing this to gleefully rub my hands together as I envisioned my very own room. After all, any room that would have to reconcile our twin visions of having a state-of-the-art computer of gargantuan proportions alongside three humongous dragon eggs would end up looking pretty ghastly. And you already know my proclivity for walls and floors – I am either bumping into them or falling onto them, so you’d do well to keep me away from your precious technology. Maybe I’ll even earn brownie points for not screaming ‘Are you talking to me?’ when you’re frantically speaking to your mates on team speak during first person shooter games.

And don’t even get me started on our sleeping patterns. With your eyes beginning to shrink steadily in size post 11 p.m. while sleep eludes me even at an unearthly 4 in the morning, it’s almost as if we live in different time zones. And though I’m sure my innocuous ‘Are you awake?’ may sound endearing right now, 10 years later, it’ll make you wish we lived on far-flung planets instead of merely separate bedrooms.

There is also the case of my predilection for reading out poetry late at night and the inability of your practical mind to appreciate it. But our most glaring personality clashes will manifest itself through our music preferences – yours the soporific Beethoven and mine the boisterous AC/DC. Can you imagine coming home after a hard day at work and being greeted with the high-octane Highway to Hell instead of the dulcet tones of Moonlight Sonata? Let’s not do this to ourselves because I’ll definitely need to tear some wallpaper to Brian Johnson crooning Back in Black after getting an earful form my boss. Also, no more worrying about crumbs after you have eaten in bed for fear of incurring my wrath (and being shoved out of bed that very moment to clean it up). You’re most welcome to stew in your own filth.

I understand that this sounds far easier to implement in theory than it would be in practice. At the end of the day, there will be some hard feelings when one of us wants to spend time together and the other one wants his or her own space. How do we arrive at a sweet spot without snubbing each other? Honestly, I don’t have all the answers. But I do know us as a couple and I know we will definitely not treat this as a play of power between us but rather as a mutually beneficial understanding between two adults.

In conclusion, I’d like to say this. Congratulations on your pristine white room, but do feel free to come over to mine sometimes and I’ll explain to you exactly why David Fincher’s ‘I am Jack’s…’ montage was such a revolutionary scene in the film industry. That, and of course, a thoroughly practical course on sex as well.

– Your sincerely badass future wife