How Can I Be A Spoon When I Have None?

To start off, I have to provide a glossary of cuddling lingo.  Don’t worry, I’m not going to get super specific.  My boyfriend and I both have our clothes on when this is going on.

Anyway, for my boyfriend and I, there are two main positions we like when laying in bed together.

One move is something that I think we made up, called “crooking”.  This is where we lay side-by-side and my boyfriend extends his right arm.  I lay my head in the crook of his armpit.  We fall asleep this way most nights.

The other position is spooning.  The way this works usually is that I lay in somewhat of a fetal position, and my boyfriend mirrors that position around me.  We lie back to chest.  In essence, we fit together like spoons – whatever that means – but hence the name spooning.

Most nights when we lay like this, I have no problem with being the “little” spoon (where my boyfriend is behind me), because in essence, I can assume the fetal position, which is one of the most comfortable positions for me to be in.

Being the “big” spoon, on the other hand, poses problems.

For starters, I’m about six inches shorter than my boyfriend, so this makes being the big spoon difficult.

In terms of lupus and RA, my body is just not that flexible to make it comfortable for both him and me, when I’m the big spoon.  I usually end up with my lower body flush to his and my upper body too far away.

We usually end up giving up our futile attempt, and often revert to crooking, which is comfortable for both of us (although I’m sure my boyfriend’s arm eventually falls asleep).

The other thing is that at the end of the day, I am usually exhausted – sometimes I’m completely exhausted before the end of the day, so that when the end of the day comes, I have no energy to do anything other than fall into bed.  I don’t have any spoons left (to be romantic or touchy feely or whatever).

Most of the time, when we are settled in bed and my boyfriend asks for me to spoon him, I groan.

It’s not like I don’t want to reciprocate, it’s just that it is difficult.

And that’s one part of lupus and RA that I really hate.  I feel that these illnesses are a third party, always wanting to get in on the action, or destroy the action, as the case may be.

There is no doubt that having a chronic illness impacts relationships, romantic or otherwise.

Finding a partner is difficult enough.  Finding and keeping one is harder still.  And finding a partner who really tries to understand what you are going through and accepts your limitations, or is at least willing to deal with them, is really, I think, what we are all searching for.

So it’s just too bad that there isn’t a spoonie version of spooning.

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