Are your sheets fitted to your lifestyle? And what the heck does that mean, anyway?
There was thought-provoking news for lovers this month. It was reported that people who sleep naked have happier relationships. In a survey of 1,000 Britons, 57% of naked sleepers reported feeling “happy” in love, the most in any group. The cotton-promoting body that commissioned the study explained its findings with all the creepy gravitas of Peter Stringfellow giving a physics lecture: “Bedding can feel extremely soft against the skin, encouraging openness and intimacy between couples and ultimately increasing happiness.”
Not having heard Mr Stringfellow’s creepy gravitas before, I went dialing around YouTube and came up with a party political broadcast supporting a UKIP candidate. Comparison verified.
If this is true, not only does it mean that nocturnal nudists are happier in love, it also means that’s because they’re the kind of insatiate bonobos who become aroused at the mere caress of a flat sheet from Debenhams. I can’t help having my doubts.
After roughly, or smoothly, 45 years of sleeping in the buff, mostly unaroused, I am similarly doubtful. But I’m willing to entertain this hypothesis:
Speaking of which, surely fun is the real key to a happy relationship? Not, like, sheets, as the people who are selling sheets seem so keen to suggest. Perhaps (stay with me on this) people who sleep naked are pretty relaxed, generally quite happy with themselves. Glass-half-full types who greet a clipboard-wielding surveyor with a cheery “Of course I’ve got a few minutes to answer some questions about my sleeping habits! Nothing could be more delightful!” rather than desperately trying to avoid eye contact or pretending their mobile is ringing. Maybe such people have happy relationships, are more apt to describe them that way, and it’s nothing to do with how naked they are.
On the other hand, if you’re some cheap so-and-so who buys sheets with a thread count in the single digits, you deserve the abrasion you’re getting.