14 Reasons Why It’s Okay To Get In My Bed

February 16th, 2013

I was in complete bliss.

Hey look at me in complete bliss.

It was 4 a.m. on a Friday night and I was unraveling from a week chock-full of obligatory 9-5’s and one too little happy hours, completely reveling in my Egyptian cotton duvet, silky soft sheets and Hollister pajama pants when

Suddenly

I heard my door open ever so   s l o w l y. 

Who the…

.

.

I watched as a shadow outline of an unidentified body scamper across my bedroom floor.

Delusioned, I reached the firm conclusion that it was my roommate, Olivia. She does this from time to time, you see. My spooning abilities are impeccable. And I really can’t blame the girl. Besides, who else would be in my apartment at such an odd hour without my consent?

.

I felt my bed

 sink.

And I watched as my roommate’s shadow began crawling slowly towards the front of my bed and lay directly in front of my body and felt as we became

Nose>> to <<Nose

…This was a little weird…even for us…but okay.

I quickly opened my eyes

.

Only to discover

.

That it wasn’t Charlie in my bed

.

But rather

.

A 6’3″ man I had never seen before in my entire life.

Yes, this is the actual guy.

I screamed.

.

He screamed.

.

I screamed again.

.

I asked him who the hell he was and what he wanted from me to which he responded

“Rebecca, is that you?”

.

I screamed.

.

He screamed.

.

I screamed again.

.

Not only was I not Rebecca, but I didn’t know who in the hell Rebecca was!

Startled and only slightly intimidated by my airborne pillows and freshly exposed side pony, he quickly exited the room and slammed my once open door on his way out.

And it wasn’t until the next morning where I was once again laying in my bed,  from a week chock-full of obligatory 9-5’s and one too little happy hours, completely reveling in my Egyptian cotton duvet, silky soft sheets and Hollister pajama pants when

Suddenly

I heard my door open ever so   s l o w l y. 

Again.

No. For the love of god. No. NO. Not again. NO.

I felt my bed

 sink.

And I watched as an unidentified shadow

God help me.

began crawling slowly towards the front of my bed and lay directly in front of my body and felt as we became

Nose>> to <<Nose

.

My heart began to beat faster. My anxiety was reaching a fatally panicked level. My side pony was completely dispersed from it’s original constraints offering a terrifying sight for both parties involved. Should I open my eyes? Should I do this again? Am I Rebecca?! Is THIS Rebecca? WHO ARE YOU. (Who just sang The Who song in their head? << this girl)

I quickly opened my eyes and

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

And it was Charlie.

What’s up

And I was very sure. In that moment. That I was never quite so happy. To see her ethnically ambiguous face.

“Goood morninngg!” She sang. “How was your night last night? You looked panicked and confused. Also, you look like a labradoodle. Is everything okay?”

Once I regained a safe level of consciousness I began to explain to her the bizarre happenings of just a few hours before and I watched as her eyes reached the size of small saucer cups as I confessed the encounters I had with a strange man in our apartment that filled the very spot she was laying in not so long ago.

“Oh god…Oh Olive…I am…that was my friend Parker Hurley!”

“The fuck?”

“Yeah I went out last night with some friends who were in town. Ended up inviting my friend Parker and Rebecca to crash at our place. Rebecca took the couch and I guess Parker went to go look for her…in your room…and then….got in your…bed…fuck…I am so sorry.”

I sort of laughed.

.

She mostly laughed.

.

She mostly laughed again.

.

And once I reached an appropriate level of full-blown consciousness, we began to brainstorm about the unwelcomed bed guest from the evening before and what if I had invited him to stick around. I could always use a new friend, an attractive man (at least in the pitch dark) was offering his company at my unexpected disposal so why not take advantage of such a serendipitous occasion?

So I created a list.

In case you too find yourself awoken in the middle of the night by a strange man who just wants to know if your name is Rebecca, and you too decide that you’d like to offer him a trade-off for terrifying you in your bed at such an unexpected hour of the night.

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14 Acceptable Trade-Offs For Terrifying Me In My Bed

1. Pillow fight. But I’ll make a switch from the feather to the tempurpedic if you try anything weird.

2. Have a Kill Bill Marathon…only because it’s…kind of weird to do alone.

3. Construct a blanket fort. Invite the local peasants.

4. Remotely attractive? Pose bitch. Best believe I’m sending a snap chat to the ex. Bastard deserves it.

5. Intense pillow talk. Judy’s being a bitch. Need to talk this shit out.

6. See that terrifying oil panting my Aunt Janice sent me of a chicken wearing a bra and spoon-feeding a snail to a girl with sparse bangs while a three-haired gnome double-fists candles above a naked Shakespeare on a cake that I can’t seem to hang up by myself?

Thanks.

7. See that Big Foot statue I drunkenly purchased from the Sky Mall magazine catalog that is entirely too heavy and awkward for me to carry to my living room solo?

Thanks.

8. I’m dressing you the fuck up. Life size Ken Doll officially at my disposal.

9. See that leftover Thai in the fridge from a few weeks prior? Taste test that shit. You just never know.

10. Pants off dance-off. << Self-explanatory.

11. Grab your wallet. Chili’s is having a happy hour and I’d judge myself a lot less if it was your treat.

12. Get on your hands and knees. Coffee table is officially out of commission and I’m inviting the girls over for a light snack.

13. Unruly neighbor from upstairs that seemingly drags industrial chains across the floor on a nightly basis? Resolve that shit.

14. Grab a hair brush. In desperate need of someone to do an in-home karaoke session to anything resembling Destiny’s Child or Pittbull.

.

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And there you have it. The acceptable trade-offs for terrifying unexpected lady kids in their beds. This is by no means an invitation to do so. Unless you’re into being human coffee tables and unwavered by 3 week old Thai food. Then do the damn thing.