It all started a couple of months ago and to be honest with you I don’t remember the reason . . . I was in our living room spending time with the love of my life when suddenly I started feeling sleepy. Like a child, I started kicking up a bit about it (I’ve never been the best at bedtimes). My husband noticed I was feeling a bit grumpy and that my eyes were heavy with sleep.
“Why don’t you go to bed?” he asked.
“I don’t feel like it yet” I replied even though I knew full well I was fighting a losing battle with sleep. He didn’t say anything and just held me, knowing that if I fell asleep on the couch waking me up was going to be rough. I was not ignorant of that fact either but for some reason sleep, and I have never been the best of friends. I could try to blame my anxiety but to be honest with you I don’t remember a time in my life I didn’t fight off sleep as much as possible. In my teens, I was able to manage off of four hours of sleep, but I had stopped being a teen longer than I care to admit.
Then, just as I was getting ready to get up, he said it.
“Want me to carry you?”
At first, I thought he was joking. Of course, he’s carried me before must mostly for silly things, funny pictures and to overall be cute. But this, this felt different, more intimate and yet I felt like my answer should be no, so I laughed it off a little, and indeed I said ‘no, why would you?’ or something like.
“Come on,” he said and held out his hand, and I felt a tingle in my chest. Of course, I had dreamed of a partner carrying me somewhere, but I also dreamed of donning cinnamon bull rolls on my head and leading the rebellion. I never imagined something like this would actually happen. . . And particularly not to me.
I pride myself on being strong and independent and sometimes a bit too independent for my mother’s liking. Yet I took his hand this time, and he chuckled and asked me to hop up (I am so short), and he carried me the few feet from the living room to the bedroom. It was truly the sweetest thing.
I don’t remember how it became a habit, but a couple of nights a week I will gently ask. . .
“Will you carry me to our bedroom?” and if he’s feeling up to it (and funny enough he always is), he will say “of course” and ask me to hop up and carry me to our bed. Sometimes we bump into something and laugh, other times I ask him to throw me on the bed, and we end up laughing until our stomachs hurt. Sometimes we come to the bed, kiss and make love.
This routine has meant the world to me. For some reason, something as gentle as being carried off to bed has made me feel closer to him. He is the first man who lets me be this person, the person who is strong and independent but that sometimes needs someone to hold her. . . and carry her to bed.
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