The Difference Between Sex And Sleeping

Boys are always warm. Like portable heaters that are lean and comfortable. But D was warmer than any boy whose heat I've usurped before; warmer even than P was the night I slid inside his sweatshirt with him on top of the hill and pressed my forehead against his neck.

And when D wrapped himself around me under the blanket on the trampoline last weekend, when he pulled me back against his chest and let our legs tangle together and pressed his face into my hair to keep his nose warm, his heat beat into my body, soaking through my clothes and my skin, into my muscles. It felt like a fever everywhere, or like a fire was burning against my back. And then when he linked his fingers with mine and brushed his lips against the back of my neck (maybe by accident), it was like the fire spread all through me, and despite the cold October air biting at my skin wherever it was exposed and despite our tipsy-ness and our tender, brand new attraction to each other, I felt like I could lie there forever without moving. D's warmth made me want winter, made me want to steal him away, bring him home with me to keep me warm at night when the wind in Chicago is so strong, it comes through the closed windows and rustles the curtains in my bedroom.

There's something about sleeping with someone-- actually sleeping-- that is even more intimate to me than sex. Curling up with tangled bodies and being able to actually fall asleep with someone, to feel so comfortable and safe that you can completely let your guard down, that's the kind of sleeping with someone I mean.

Because sleep is the ultimate vulnerability. You're so unaware of everything around you, so unconscious, and when there's someone else in the bed with you, it's like you're letting them-- no, trusting them to protect you, to keep you safe, to not hurt you.

Sex is different. Sex is the closest you can get to someone physically, but these days there seems to be an emotional detachment that comes with sex-- or, more fittingly, fucking. If you sleep with someone you're not in a relationship with, or even if you are, there seems to be this kind of physical selfishness to it (or maybe I'm just sleeping with the wrong people?). It's like you're both trying to get only what you want out of the other person, not really realizing that maybe if you think about what the other person wants, you both might end up getting more out of the experience. Not all sex is like that, of course; there are always exceptions to the rule...

But when you're sleeping, you're just sleeping. The only give and take is of body heat and comfort and closeness. I think I'd rather sleep with someone than sleep with them, if you know what I mean.

Which is why I didn't do anything with D. I didn't turn around and catch his lips with mine and curl my fingers in his hair. I just snuggled into him and fell asleep, because, despite the distance between us, I like him. He may live in a galaxy far, far away (also known as mountains), but he was so real, so genuine, I felt like I'd known him for a long time, like he actually cared about what I was saying and I cared about what he was saying and it wasn't about waiting until we were drunk enough to fall into kissing. It was just about being alive and experiencing each other through who we are. Which sounds slightly vague and completely corny, but it makes sense to me. And it would make sense to D, too.