There’s an old superstition that to have a good sex life, your bed shouldn’t be pushed up against the wall. The idea behind it is that if only one person can climb into your bed (because only one side is open) then there’s only ever going to be one person in your bed. You’re also not supposed to have the foot of your bed facing the door because that’s how they carry you out when you die, but that’s another superstition entirely. Now, my bed happens to be firmly wedged into the far corner of my bedroom. No feet towards the door, but there certainly isn’t any way for someone else to get in there. It’s also tiny and has a pile of stuffed animals and pillows taking up quite a bit of space. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: there really isn’t any room in there for anyone but me. And until very recently, that’s exactly the way I liked it. But times, they are a-changin’.

After a weekend visiting my parents, I stood in my apartment and surveyed the scene. It was partly to make sure there wasn’t anything breakable near the couch, just in case I got a little overzealous while screaming at the TV during the Super Bowl. But it was also with an eye towards the future…and what I was now hoping was the not too distant future. The question I asked myself was: would I want to bring someone here? Is this a place that I’d be proud to show off? The answer was obvious as I thought back to a couple weeks ago while I pushed a guy out the door and grumbled, “This is why no one is allowed in my apartment!” My bed was against the wall, both literally and figuratively.

Collages of magazine cutouts adorn my walls, shoes litter the floor and the table has been taken over by my textbooks and papers. A torn out picture of my current celebrity crush is taped up near my bed, which again is peopled with stuffed animals and pillows…which makes it a paradise to collapse into after a long day, but a nightmare to share. Actually, as I looked around I realized that the décor wasn’t all that much different from the bedroom I’d just left…you know, the one I’d lived in through childhood and high school. Awesome.

I’d been so caught up in the logistics of making the space my own, with my books, DVDs and furniture, that I hadn’t thought all that much about the rest of it. Like the way it kind of looks like a fifteen year old lives there instead of a 20-something woman. Which is a huge contrast to the other half of the apartment, which my roommate has decorated with lavish bookshelves, heirloom furniture, and paintings hung on the walls. Yeah…it’s time for an upgrade. And the place to start was with that pesky bed, and those stuffed animals. I stared at them, my heart breaking as I contemplated tossing them away, but it’s impossible to move on when you’re sleeping with the past every night. They had to go…but maybe not all at once. After all, you don’t land in the future with one big jump, it takes baby steps. But little by little, I’m going to turn my space into a place that’s ready to welcome in a brand new future.

xoxo

Cat