That Pantless Life

We broke up over bed sheets

An audio recording of this post, which I recommend because it’s a bit more lively.

I was told that my initial blog introduction was too much of a tease into the pantless life. Aside from working from home without pants, what does it mean to live a pantless life? This post is about how serious I am about being pantless, and my pantless sanctuary (my bed).

My bed is my sanctuary. I think of my bedroom as my office. It is a place where I need to be able to focus. Generally speaking, I don’t allow TV, dogs or food in my bedroom. I believe in investing in a quality bed, mattress and bed sheets. I will also most certainly judge you, as a person, based on your bed situation.

My second story about how serious I am: I broke up with a boyfriend because of his shitty bed situation. Okay fine, I instigated a break-up because this guy’s bed was a total disaster and he wouldn’t do anything about it. And before you start judging me, I want to show you a picture of his bed.

I mean, look at this shit. Does this even qualify to be a bed? I mean seriously, what the fuck? Let me describe this piece of shit bed to you. It was a non-standard sized mattress because I think it had been shipped in from when his parents immigrated from China. Instead of regular people pillows, he used a towel. Instead of regular people blankets, he used a towel, with a child’s duvet on top. The sheets felt like old people clothes. There were clothes on it all the time, and it’s covered in dog hair.

I was subtle at first. I asked him if he inherited this bed from his grandmother. He didn’t get the hint. I continued to be an ass about his shit bed, because I mean, look at it. I basically told him, it needed some updates and I think that was being nice. One day, he couldn’t take it any more and literally had a meltdown while we were on one of the busiest streets in downtown Toronto. It was like a two-year-old child having a tantrum.

I felt that I had to be the adult here. I gifted him his first real set of quality sheets, but it doesn’t matter, he didn’t really try to use it. And the last straw was when he stayed over at my place, he couldn’t figure out how to be between the fitted sheet and the flat sheet. Let me explain this better. Every time I would roll over, he would be on a different level of the bed, like what the fuck? I need me a man who knows how to sleep in a bed like a normal person. Gawd, is that too much for a woman to ask for?

The last straw was when I tried to ask him to try and sleep between the right sheets. He just broke down and left. And that’s how we broke up.

At this point you may be thinking that this was just a short-term dating situation. No, I tolerated this shit for nearly a year. I met his parents, he met my parents, we both thought it could go somewhere. I don’t know what I was thinking! Clearly our values on pantlessness and the pantless sanctuary are not aligned. It was just not meant to be.

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