Pillow Talk Isn’t Hot Enough
Y ou know the honeymoon’s over when she ‘s sleeping in sweats and he ‘s sleeping in pajamas.
Or is it the weather? Even Southern California’s winter nights can make a couple wish for Waikiki.
Do men mind snoozing beside women decked out in 10K-warm-ups? And what does a woman like on her man when the sandman comes?
SHE: Brrrrrrr. Sorry, but I can’t do another night of chiffon and feathers. Forget your Rita Hayworth fantasy. Give me my gray sweats and your ski socks. And don’t give me another peignoir for Christmas. Baby, it’s cold outside.
HE: But we’re not sleeping outside, unless you forgot to mail the mortgage check again. How’s about I take the money that I was going to invest in the peignoir and sink it into a nice extra blanket? That way neither of us will have to worry about wearing stupid-looking bed clothes (I have reference to that pair of boxers you bought me in New York with “The Big Apple” written all over them). We can keep warm the way God and Masters and Johnson intended.
SHE: With our electric thermal, who needs an extra blanket? I’m talking coziness here. And readiness. When I hit the driveway in sweats to snag the morning paper, I’m dressed for it.
Actually, I prefer you in jammies in the winter months. Your skin gets pretty icy after you’ve kicked off the blanket.
I still have that fantasy about men in silk pajamas and smoking jackets. When are you going to live up to it?
HE: In your dreams. Men’s pajamas are in the dork hall of fame. PJs can make Mel Gibson look like Ward Cleaver. They’re baggy, shapeless, wimpy and they’re uncomfortable no matter what they’re made of; they get all kinked up under the covers. Guys associate pajamas with excessive formality at bedtime or, worse, childhood. One of the perks of being an adult man is being able to wear anything you want to bed, or nothing at all.
And besides, you don’t wear a smoking jacket over pajamas. That’s strictly for aging Hugh Hefner types. You wear a smoking jacket instead of a tux coat at the end of a formal evening debauch. That’s a fantasy worth pursuing.
But why so adamant about bedtime lingerie? Weren’t you the one who sulked for weeks when you found out Victoria’s Secret didn’t issue a credit card?
SHE: You caught me. Truth is, I love the image of a woman slinking across a bedroom floor--trailing a cloud of chiffon the color of tea roses.
But the reality is I get tangled up in the frothy stuff, and by 3 a.m. I’m feeling more like a papoose than a movie queen.
Do you mind me in sweats for the next few months? Sorry, but I’m going to wear something.
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HE: Only if they’re USC sweats. One’s alma mater is always sexy. There’s something I’m still a bit baffled about, though. Are you wedded to these sweats because they’re more comfortable in bed than other, more appealing forms of clothing or are you just afraid to open the front door in the morning if you’re not encased in heavy cotton armor? Is this a climate issue? If that’s it, heck, I’ll get the paper.
Why is it that men are always too hot and women are too cold when they’re in the same room?
SHE: In answer to your first question: Sweats are the most comfortable, practical and mod thing I can wear to bed on a chilly night. I can shower when I come home from work, throw on my sweats and cook dinner in them, watch TV in them and climb into bed in them.
Regarding your second question: Beats me. Maybe it’s because, while you boys were poring over Tarzan comics, we girls were identifying with “The Princess and the Pea” and her pile of down quilts.
So, you’re giving me USC sweats for Christmas? Perfect. I’m giving you a Wellesley nightshirt and a Sulka smoking jacket.
HE: Now you’ve hit on something. A nightshirt. For some reason, pajamas are real weenie garments, but nightshirts are cool. I don’t know what it is about them. Pajamas make you look like you’re recovering in the hospital, but a big red nightshirt is . . . well, it’s funky. It’s got a kind of goofy panache. Also, a lot of them come with reasonably witty sayings on them, like “I Bet You Can’t Get This Off Me In Two Seconds.”
How about I get you a nice electrically heated USC nightshirt and you let me continue to sleep in, ahem, what I’ve always slept in? Your nightshirt might be cuter, but mine won’t wear out after repeated washings.
