I'm a proud member of the LAT Club. So is My Forever Guy, who I have been dating exclusively for almost four years. Since I am a full-on advocate of this LAT club, My Guy automatically got a free membership when we became serious.

I love My Guy unconditionally. Except when he snores. Then I want to hit him in the face with a shovel, which is why we are in the “Living Apart Together” — LAT — club, which is gaining more members each year as more women realize there is no law stating that you must live together to be in an exclusive and monogamous relationship.

I always seem to attract snorers. And lawyers. My Guy is a lawyer who snores. On the rare occasion we try sleeping in the same bed, I usually look at him and think, “You’re my everything!” for exactly two minutes, until I hear him snoring. Then I think, "I can’t live like this!” So I won’t. And I don’t.

It’s not like it used to be: dating, then moving in, then marriage, then children. Even marriage isn’t a must-do anymore. In this modern age, no one cares that their adult children may be in a common-law relationship, where they live together and, although not technically married, are considered married in the eyes of a court after a certain amount of time. 

Candidly, I’m not sure I’m even technically single! I may, inadvertently, be a polygamist, which would carry a five-year jail sentence here in Canada. Unfortunately, I don’t live in Utah.

Okay, no, I’m not actually a polygamist. My common-law ex moved out — after five years living together — and he refused to get a lawyer.

After spending thousands on family lawyers trying to chase him down — the psychological equivalent of a triple bypass — I just gave up, ditched my lawyers, and decided to spend my money on a nice handbag instead of spending my money on lawyers. (Whoever said money can’t buy happiness clearly never attempted to get a stubborn ex to sign a proper divorce agreement.) 

My second non-common-law ex and I share 50/50 custody of our child, or what we now call, “shared parenting” or “co-parenting.”

But no one ever openly talks about adults co-sleeping. I’d like a word with whoever came up with this idea that you had to share a bed, or even a room, with someone else just because you’re in a romantic relationship and are married. And frankly, sharing a pillow, in my opinion, with another adult should be a crime!

It can’t be just me who fantasizes about being in the LAT club. I can’t be the only female who finds sharing a bed with another adult much like sleeping with a drunk octopus? 

Suddenly you find yourself in the realm of unbearable temperatures, weird angles, trying to keep your hair out of your partner’s mouth. Not to mention the blanket wars, while you’re trying your best not to yell, “Wake the fuck up!” because you were in the middle of a story and your partner is now snoring — which happens to me, which means either he’s extremely exhausted or my stories are terribly boring.

I honestly feel that every passing year with My Guy just keeps getting better and better. I know and fully understand that many women can’t wait or may love to hear the words, “It’s late. Let’s go to bed now,” each night, especially newlyweds. 

Me and My Guy? We’re more like, “It’s late. You gotta go!” He sleeps in his own bed. I sleep in my own bed. Not only do we rarely sleep in the same bed. We actively chose not to live together, as well.

Living Apart Together is better than smothering My Guy in his sleep with a pillow (amiright?)

Now, in modern days, there’s even a term for couples who want to sleep in different bedrooms. 

“Sleep divorces” are actually a thing now, where, if you’re cursed with a snorer as your spouse, you ask to sleep in separate bedrooms. 

Apparently, many women have trouble asking for a “sleep divorce,” with so-called experts telling us to tread the topic of sleeping in different rooms lightly and gently, saying to our partners something like, “I’m wondering if you’re open to trying something new…” so as to not injure their fragile soles.

Really! Experts make asking for a “sleep divorce” seem as serious as a discussion that would ensue if your husband was like, “I’m wondering if you’re open to trying something new. Would you mind having a sister-wife?”

Plus, a lot of us, I think, ARE already sleep-divorced, which is a natural progression, especially if your partner snores, but no one talks about this. I mean, could you imagine calling your friend and saying, “I have some news. Mike and I are divorcing.” To which your friend would respond, “OMG! Are you okay? What can I do to help you through this? I never even knew you two were having issues!” To which you’d have to explain, “No, no, no. We are still very much in love. We have just decided to sleep in different bedrooms, that’s all! We are getting a sleep divorce.” 

Instead of blaming the snorer, we are encouraged by therapists to explain our reasoning as to why we want a “sleep divorce,” which is all kinds of nonsense. What’s there to explain?

What’s wrong with just saying, “YOU keep me up at night with your snoring,” when they in fact did keep you up all night with their snoring? Is it really that insulting to tell someone that when they sleep the furniture shakes?

The other day me and My Guy were mapping out our future and, yes, talking about moving in together. Basically, our conversations about moving in together usually revolve around how many bedrooms or floors we need so we can still be active LAT members — because sometimes, I admit, I’m equally like, “I want to try and live with This One full-time. Should I try?” as I am like, “But we're so, so happy with our LAT relationship.”

In any  case, I learned from an early age that suffocating someone with a pillow in their sleep is wrong and punishable. When I was a child — long before my parents blew all my wedding funds on renovating their cottage, twice, which is fair enough after my two failed engagements, and also, I’m now in my forties — I had to share a bedroom at the cottage with my youngest of three brothers.

We had our own beds, but my brother snored so loud that I did, in fact, try to suffocate him with a pillow one night. My parents came racing in to check on the commotion, walking in exactly at the same time I was sitting on top of my brother’s chest, holding a pillow over his face with both my hands while he screamed, “Get off of me! What are you doing? You’re trying to kill me!”

He wasn’t wrong. But neither was I. His snoring was loud and, quite frankly, obnoxious. So what if I was trying to kill him? I was the one who had to go through the agony of trying to catch some ZZZs in the same room as him! (My sister-in-law can back me up on this. Thirty-five plus years later, she doesn’t sleep in the same room with him either! Even construction workers outside his window would be like, “We’re trying to work! Can you keep it down?”)

By sheer coincidence, I’m sure, shortly after the incident of nearly suffocating my brother, I found myself with my own room at the cottage. My brother had moved into the bedroom with my other two brothers.

I’m not exactly sure if this is because my parents realized it was time for me to have my own bedroom as the only daughter entering puberty…or because they wanted to be able to sleep peacefully throughout the night, without worrying that I was plotting to murder one of their offspring. Every night. At 2:00 a.m.

I love My Guy, but I do seriously get angry at him, and not necessarily just when he snores, and it’s not necessarily entirely fair of me to do so. Mostly, I get irritated because My Guy, along with being a snorer, always, always, falls asleep first. That really pisses me off. 

The question, "Why do snorers always fall asleep first?” is a question no one seems to be capable of answering. Can anyone please tell me why this is?

To add insult to the injury of a restless night next to a snorer, during the rare times we had to share a bed and I kicked him, or elbowed him, or told him to move over on his side, My Guy actually denies he was snoring. “I wasn't even asleep!” he’ll shout groggily, to which my response is always, “Then how come you’re snoring?” to which he’ll respond, “Am I?” before promptly falling back asleep…with more snores to follow.

I honestly can say that falling asleep with a snorer, for me, is like trying to fall asleep during a metal band festival. I’ve always been a light sleeper. I need blackout blinds and a white noise machine to sleep.

Snoring makes me literally hate humans.

In the handful of times Me and My Guy have shared a bed overnight, even after years together, usually when in hotels, or on vacation, I beg and plead and make him “promise, promise, promise” to “please, please, please just cuddle me until I fall asleep first!”

What will happen is that he will promise to let me fall asleep first, spoon me, and just as I’ll feel myself dozing off, be out like a light, with full snores ahead. Not gonna lie, the fact that he can fall asleep within minutes is as irritating as the snoring itself.

My Guy is not opposed to being a member of the LAT club. Even though he is pretty traditional, I think it became obvious to him that my love has limits. And there is no way I could spend 40 more years, give or take, listening to him snore. I worry I’d get to the point where I’d call the cops on the love of my life and file a noise complaint.

About a year ago, My Guy moved into a beautiful and spacious new condo closer to my house so that we could spend more time together. When he comes “visits” me at my place, we eat and then will hang in my bedroom. He knows me well enough by now to know that when he sees the expression on my face that says, “Time to put your clothes back on and go home!” that he will put his clothes back on and go home.

I’ll often spend weekends at his place. Before you get too surprised, I can do this because I have my very own bedroom, which were part of the terms and conditions I set out for weekend sleepovers. 

We end up watching a movie or having sex in his bedroom (leading to multiple orgasms, might I add). And even better? Afterwards, I can just leave his bedroom and go to my bedroom, right down the hallway, watch whatever reality TV I like, be as messy as a teenager, and fall asleep in my own bed before his snoregasms begin. (Since his groaning and grunting snores usually end with a lip smacking sound, his snoring and sex sounds often sound the same!)

In fact, if you’re dating seriously these days and are a light sleeper — or more importantly a snorer — I think the most important words to add to your dating profile are, “I am a snorer.”  Or “Looking for a lifetime partner who does not snore.” 

This will allow others to seriously contemplate if they should bother getting together for a date at all. Because if the person does turn out to be The One, most likely, they will be someone who, two minutes after their head hits the pillow, will begin rattling the foundation of your house.

Maybe you’ll find it cute at first, but there will come a time when you’ll never be able to get to sleep, so you’ll start to believe in g-d, because living with a snorer pretty much requires divine intervention if you don’t want to be a member of the LAT club.

Right now, My Guy and I are on a three-week vacation together at my place in Mexico. It has three bedrooms. Every night, I’ll go into what is now known as his bedroom to cuddle, which leads to foreplay, which leads to sex, which leads to me saying, “That was super hot. I’m going to bed now. See you tomorrow,” as I head to my bedroom, which is at the other end of the condo. 

It’s awesome.

I actually credit separate bedrooms and separate homes for our healthy sex life. Do you get daily morning texts saying, “Good morning, sexy!” every single day? I do. Because we don’t wake up in the same room or house.

Now, I should mention that he recently went to the doctor to discuss his snoring. It turns out he does suffer from sleep apnea, which is a serious condition where you kind of stop breathing in your sleep, leading to all sorts of weird snort snores and him waking up 540 times a night. I should probably be more sympathetic, but I love my sleep.  

So, now My Guy looks like a fighter pilot with this plastic mask on his face, attached to tubes that give him extra oxygen. He swears he doesn’t snore, but what does he know? He’s asleep.

As for moving in together? Well, we already made the first step of Living Apart But Together by living just a seven-minute drive or 20-minute walk from each other. Which means, at any given time, we can just head over to one another’s place without a second thought.

Recently, I sold my house with the condition that I could still live in it for another year. I didn't sell it because I wanted to put a pause on my LAT membership. I just couldn’t turn down the offer.

So, the other day, we did talk about what — or rather how — we will live when I'm homeless. I would totally move into his large condo, where I already have my own bedroom with a white noise machine…if he didn’t live there as well. 

I’m joking! Sort of. 

We agreed that the best option for us would be for me to also find a condo in the same building that he lives in. Ideally, we’d find a unit for me on the same floor, where if I needed, or he needed, we could run down the corridor wrapped in a towel to be there for each other.

My condo would be his condo and his condo would be my condo — thus ensuring our LAT — Living Apart Together — membership never expires.