World Sleep Day: Big spoon or little spoon? No spooning for me

I can't imagine a less comfortable way of sleeping than pressed up against another person's big, sweaty body with my left arm wedged under their shoulder

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There is an increasingly popular and deeply troubling trend going on between the nation's sheets.

A particular bedroom position which is fast taking hold of lusty people nationwide. It is intimate, sweaty, cramp-inducing and uncomfortable. They call it 'Spooning'.

In the old days, the most common question to be asked on location-based instant gay dating applications was: do you top or a bottom? (Nothing to do with buses). Now, it's: are you a big spoon or a little spoon? To which, I am forced to reply: Versatile.

The other day I asked my colleague what she loved most about her new boyfriend. 'Oh,' she said, 'It's just nice to go to bed after a long, stressful day and just chat and spoon'...

*Blank face. Blink. Blink. Walk away.*

What the hell are we coming to? What is this obsession with spooning all of a sudden? Perhaps, in all future encounters, we should leave the lubricants behind and just bring hot milk, teddy bears and jim-jams.

I actually receive regular messages from people I have never met saying: Hey. Wanna spoon? Has the government started putting unicorn fluff in the water? Is the whole of society doing one huge sexual Benjamin Button?

I can't imagine a less comfortable way of sleeping than pressed up against another person's big, sweaty body with my left arm wedged under their shoulder and my nethers being regularly warmed by their nighttime bum-whispers.

The last time I found myself playing the big spoon, the guy fell asleep straight away and I was left trapped, debating whether I should wake him up or start cutting through my forearm with my swiss army knife like in 127 Hours. In the end, I just lay there for hours, feeling my arm slowly wither and die. By the next morning it was nothing more than a numb lump of flesh much like Liza Minnelli.

The spooning position you take doesn't seem to be dictated by your height. I recently had a man the size of an elf insist that he was the big spoon. I looked at him. I waited for the laughter. No. He was serious. I'm 6 foot 2. He was so short, hedgehogs would kick him in the face. When we spooned it was like wearing a bustle. I now know what eucalyptus trees feel like. Please watch this. Koalas, koalas, koalas! My new favourite phrase.

I guess there's something nice about that feeling of security, warmth and togetherness but really, I need my space! My sleeping position is loose and expressive. It is a violent nighttime dance; a mix of Rambert and kickboxing. I am a squashed badger. I am a worm on a hook. I am a prawn. I am a starfish. I am the chalk line where the victim fell. My sleep is kinetic and there's the serious risk I might inadvertently impale my sleeping partner with a hypnic jerk.

To channel my favourite philosopher, Carrie Bradshaw....last night, as I lay in bed with my body pressed against the back of a near-stranger like an incestuous foetal twin I got to thinking: if he's spooning me, does that make me his yoghurt?

Perhaps spooning is an evolutionary quirk, dating back to the days when Homo sapiens were forced to live in drafty makeshift shacks with no heating, just like the working class elderly today. Or does the desire to spoon come from a psychological need to make manifest, our security and spiritual bondage?

Spooning doesn't, in reality, make us safe of course. The Romans might have practiced the turtle, but they never attempted the shielded spoon. Nonetheless, I admit there is some sense of security to be gained from nestling into another person's cosy nook.

And there is something comforting about the fact that overtly-sexual apps like Grindr are increasingly populated with wanton spooners. Sure, most of it's about sex still but, even in such an aggressive and animalistic environment, many people still just want a cuddle.

But even so, we have to stop this fetishistic and curdlingly twee obsession with spooning. What happened to this is your side of the bed, that is mine? My mattress is not my cutlery drawer. I am not versatile, I am hostile, and I am nobody's yoghurt. You koalas can keep your spooning, it's time for me to make like a squashed badger. Night night.