So apparently, there are a select group of couples who are sleeping together to protect their levels of intimacy. The only hiccup - they’re sleeping together via video chat.
The Atlantic ran a story of a 20-year old girl who used to fall asleep to YouTube videos to help quiet the ringing in her ears at night. After a while, this young woman met (via live chat) one of her favorite YouTubers, and the couple began dating. They continued their dating relationship over a long distance and would often Skype or FaceTime late into the night. One night they found themselves falling asleep as they video chatted. The next morning, when they awoke, the video chat was still going. They had apparently slept together in a bit of a, ahem, non-traditional way.
The article goes on to say:
“They found the experience so comforting that they slept ‘together’ over videochat every night while they were living in two different cities, making them part of a small but ardent group of couples, many in long-distance relationships, who rely on the practice to maintain intimacy while apart. Having a camera running through the night (or even just during a nap) might strike some as invasive, but the people I spoke with said the practice made sense to them: Couples who live in the same place can share a bed, so why shouldn't they be able to do the same, albeit virtually?”
Among the reasons these couples give for this type of sleeping together are protecting faithfulness - if you’re video sleeping with me then you can’t be cheating on me - as well as the comfort that comes from being “with” someone you love.
In Better Stories terms, I think we’re missing the point. The article seems to gloss over the problems here:
Sharing a bed over videochat could scan as a hollow simulation of occupying the same physical space, but despite the hiccups and limitations, the couples I spoke with considered it a way to overcome the challenges of being geographically separated.
I get it. We’re far away from each other so let’s feel closer together. That makes sense. And, I even understand the instinctual thought to protect a relationship’s faithfulness by constant monitoring. But to call this intimacy seems like a stretch.
Perhaps this is symptomatic of a larger “better” story we all need to find… the better story of intimacy.
I’m not only speaking about physical intimacy or our sexuality. I’m actually thinking more broadly about our most vulnerable versions of ourselves. The beauty of Eden in all its Shalom has always been the “naked and unashamed” nature of the Garden. Of course, as kids in Sunday school we giggle at the idea of Adam and Eve frolicking through paradise in their birthday suits, but what if there’s more to this phrasing of naked and unashamed?
Perhaps Eden - prior to the taste of the fruit - was a place of vulnerability, authenticity, and proximity. And perhaps these are the guideposts for the intimacy we need today. Let’s consider each of them.
Vulnerability
Naked and unashamed, if it implies anything, suggests a vulnerability. It isn’t just the nakedness, it is the nakedness with full disclosure and without insecurity that defines unashamed. Our intimacy is rooted, anchored, fortified with a sense of safety. It is the safety that we experience of fully being “us”. To reverse this, after the first bite of that forbidden fruit, Adam and Eve “realize they’re naked.” And their first action? To cover up. To withdraw. To hide. From God, and perhaps even each other. (I’ve often wondered if their strategy for hiding was to hide in the same place, or to each take their own spot, for isn’t it harder to hide with a friend?)
Our versions of intimacy miss this vulnerability today. We are surrounded, perhaps engulfed, in a virtual world of social media feeds that give off the iridescent glow of the best version of ourselves. We filter our lives, take a hundred selfies for the perfect angle and the warmest light, and then propel that image outward for all those we call our people to affirm with their “likes”. This rhythm is what we call our community, and it is anything but vulnerable.
Authenticity
If unashamed paired with nakedness is the realm of vulnerability, then perhaps we could swap our examination of these words to gain insight into authenticity. For, our nakedness is the heart of our authenticity. The great author Brennan Manning calls this our ragamuffin state, the point where our utter hopelessness is brought out into the light… where our wounds meet grace and find themselves laid bare - warts, skin tags, knobby knees and all - and we say to our Savior, “Here I am. It’s the best version of me there is.” And for Manning’s ragamuffins, it is in the face of that moment where divine love (the only true version of love unfiltered there is) receives and embraces, in fact invites us to dance with a perfect Savior who says, “I’ve seen you all along. And I love it all.”
This is the foundation for intimacy. It is not, and never has been, what we can offer to each other as humans. What a joke that our knobby knees bumping up against each other might heal our inauthenticity. No, it is the perfectly divine receiving our beautiful brokenness, receiving and loving, and spinning us around to love those around us with our fullest selves. We cannot love if we have not been loved. We can only love to the extent we have been loved. Psychologists tell us this; they just don’t realize they are making theological claims.
Proximity
Finally, our proximity defines our intimacy. I have video chatted with my wife at night while I’m on a trip. We’ve talked. We’ve laughed. We’ve argued. We’ve felt closer. But these are not the true experiences of proximity. After our fights I cannot feel her touch my hand to let me know things are okay. After our jokes I cannot brush her hair asking for more intimacy to follow. Proximity is the space of intimacy. Adam and Eve are together in the Garden. They are naked and unashamed together. They eat the fruit together. They hide from God together. They try to cover themselves together. They are sent away from the Garden together. It is proximity that postures us for intimacy.
I feel proximity slipping from us in our intimacy today. Our pace of life pulls us apart. Our constant distractions pull us apart. Our emotional coping and self-medicating pull us apart. Perhaps the better story of intimacy comes, at least partially, in eliminating the space between us. Putting phones away. Shutting televisions off. Sitting too close to each other on our long couches. Buying queen-size beds when we can afford the king-size.
My friends, we work for our intimacy. We receive grace from a loving God that invites us to intimacy - intimacy with Himself and intimacy with the good, good world - the world of Shalom - that He created and designed for us to frolic in. Of course, keep your clothes on these days (things might get a bit awkward if you don’t), but keep playing and keep pressing for the truest intimacy we can find.