My Friend’s Boyfriend Snuck Into My Bed After A Night Of Drinking

It wasn’t as scandalous as it sounds, but it still made for an uncomfortable situation

I was living with my friend Molly* for a short while, and sometimes (okay, often) we’d stay in and get drunk. Sometimes there’d be games involved (no, not sexy ones sorry…) but more often than not it was just drinking for the sake of drinking.

Her boyfriend Tyson would join us sometimes, and the story I’m about to tell you takes place on a night when he did exactly that.

So a bit of backstory here that might help set the scene a little bit. Molly lived on her own in a two bedroom apartment. Tyson would spend the night often but he had his own apartment across town (with several roommates.)

This no official roommate for Molly situation meant she had a whole extra bedroom set up as a guestroom. Yeah, like a real grown up. Super fancy. And super handy for her degenerate friends (like me!) who needed a place to crash once in awhile. Which is what I had been doing because I’d put in notice to move out of the place I’d been living only to find out too late that the place I was set to move into wasn’t quite ready yet.

Molly to the rescue.

So the three of us were at Molly’s place, having some drinks, playing stupid card games (truth be told I think the 3 of us were each playing 3 different games, but that’s beside the point.)

Often, Tyson would get tired first and go bed and Molly would join him later. This time, Molly was the first to quit and Tyson and I stayed up a little bit longer before I also got sleepy and decided to turn in. Tyson wandered off to Molly’s room and that was that.

Or so I thought.

It wasn’t long after I’d gone to bed, that I heard the door open and a sliver of light shone in. Then I felt the mattress shift as someone climbed into the bed with me.

I rolled over immediately, confused and a tiny bit alarmed. To be honest, I sort of expected to see Molly. But instead it was Tyson.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, sitting up straight.

“Molly’s snoring again.”

AND???

We stared at each other silently for a moment and then he started to climb in again! Like the matter had been settled and we’d come to some sort of agreement on the subject!

“You can’t sleep in the same bed as me! Get out!”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“I don’t know, the couch?”

“There’s no blankets out there.”

He was swaying a little as he spoke, and slurring his words a fair amount, clearly significantly drunker than I was, and honestly I was a bit worried he would fall over and injure himself on his way to find another spot to sleep.

I was also way too tired to be arguing with a drunk person, so I quickly weighed my options. I certainly was not going to sleep in the same bed as him, and I wasn’t sure anymore that kicking him out was the best option either given the state he was in. So instead I just let him get settled in “my” bed and then I took one of the pillows and a spare blanket and went out to the couch myself.

The next morning, Molly was up first as she usually was, and she found me curled up out there.

“Did Tyson go home?” she asked.

“He’s sleeping in the other room.” I told her, then went on to explain what had happened the night before.

She had a good laugh, then informed me that when the room I was using isn’t occupied he often did crash in there when he claimed she was snoring (“I don’t snore.” she insisted.) but that as far as she knew he’d never tried to climb in with someone else before.

“I guess you’re special.” she told me as we drank our coffee.

Special indeed.

We toyed with the idea of tormenting Tyson when he woke up. Perhaps embellishing his actions to make them sound much more scandalous than they actually were.

Molly was prepared to act like she had misunderstood the entire situation and was angry about it, when Tyson stumbled in the room looking like death and we figured his hangover was punishing him enough.

Once he’d had some Advil, coffee and breakfast, and was feeling a bit more human, Molly decided it was fair game to at least grill him.

“What were you thinking?”

“Clearly I wasn’t.” he mumbled back, head in his hands as if holding it upright was just far to difficult.

“What would have happened if I had caught you in there and got the wrong idea you idiot?”

That at least made him look up and flash a grin her direction.

“I’d probably be hurting in an entirely different way then.”

That night I locked the door, not exactly something I should have needed to do, but a simple enough solution.

Some people might say Tyson was full of shit and he did intend to try something with me when he snuck in there and that if I hadn’t been awake to catch him, things might have turned out differently.

This was just another one of those sleep with the roomie then try to hook up with me too kinda things, right?

Nah.

I don’t really believe that. I really do believe he was just drunk too drunk to realize his actions weren’t exactly okay, and he was looking for a warm, comfortable, and snore-free place to sleep. Maybe I’m just kidding myself. But nothing like that had ever happened before, and it never happened again so I’m fairly confident this was exactly what it appeared to be.

I didn’t stay with Molly for much longer after that, not because of that incident but because it was just a short term thing any way and once my new apartment was ready, I was moving on.

And now for the question I’m sure you’re all dying to ask: if Tyson had tried something, would I have let him?

First of all, rude. Is that what you think of me? I’m offended.

The answer — that I hope would be obvious — is no.

Now had it been Molly on the other hand…