Good morning,
A few weeks ago, my husband and I checked into a hotel in Midtown Manhattan around 11 at night.
There was another couple behind us. The young woman checking us in looked at the four of us and asked if we were all together.
“No,” I said. “Just the two of us.”
She looked at the reservation. “But you have a room with two queen beds?”
“Yes.”
“But you're not together?”
“No.”
Now she was genuinely confused. “But you have two beds.”
At this point, for reasons I still don't entirely understand, I began explaining myself.
“We're married. We've been married a long time. We like separate beds.”
“You sleep in separate beds? And you're married?”
Yes. Still.
By now the other couple could hear the entire conversation because apparently my sleeping arrangements had become part of the check-in process.
Finally, she shrugged. “Well, you do you.”
You're damn straight I do me.
Talk to me after you've been married for more than 40 years. Talk to me after 60, when a good night's sleep ranks way higher than somebody else's idea of what marriage is supposed to look like.
But what stayed with me was how quickly I started explaining myself. Why?
We wanted two beds. We booked two beds. We were paying for two beds. Hand me the damn room keys. I didn't need her to understand our marriage, approve of our sleeping arrangements, or grant me permission. And yet, for a minute, I acted like I did.
This week's PROVOKED is about the choices we make, the ones we defend, and why other people's reactions can still make us question ourselves.
I'm still working on that last part.
But I did get a very good night's sleep.