Wham, Bam, Bye Now

So... That Was Great. But As Lauren Larson Explains, Sometimes The Best Nights End In Separate Beds.

I recently summoned a trusted ex to a bar. I wanted to ask him a question, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. It took me one round of drinks to get to it. “Have I ever done anything... weird? Or gross? Like, in bed? But not, like, in bed,” I added. “Like, sleeping.” He pretended to think about it, but I could tell he already had something in mind. Finally, he began to speak. I drained my whiskey ginger. He told me the story of a night right out of Paranormal Activity. A story that laid bare the true evil that I’ve always suspected exists within me. I won’t repeat it here, because I am a lady/because my parents read Men’s Health.

I bought the next round and tried to forget.

For a few days, I’d been badgering male acquaintances about the sleep habits of the women in their lives. By the time I confronted my ex, I’d heard enough stories of drooling and sleep-talking to know that everyone does something. I have my own encyclopaedia of night-time horror stories. I once watched a man sleepwalk across my bedroom, pee in and around my wastebasket, and then sleepwalk out of the room. I was too spooked to follow him, so I don’t know where else in my home he peed that night. When I mentioned it, he laughed and said that it’s “just something that happens when I drink whiskey”.