Tropes: Only One Bed
If you consume romantic media in any way, shape or form, you are likely familiar with the tropes often found within it. Those specific plot devices, scenarios or settings that an audience encounters again and again and yet somehow of which they never grow tired. Every viewer has their favorite, the one that makes them instantly swoon, hold their breath in anticipation or wipe tears from their eyes. Some of the more experienced consumers even have tropes with which they outright refuse to engage. Who can blame them? With instances as commonplace as these, it is easy to be burned.
Still, a plethora of tropes persist within the genre, spurred on by adoration and contempt alike. Where one reader may squeal with delight at a back cover that promises an enemies-to-lovers arc, another may roll their eyes, searching the spines of friends-to-lovers tales instead. Stories can utilize more than one trope at a time, creating combinations such as fated mates that connect first through found family or a grumpy/sunshine dynamic that only happens due to the characters' forced proximity. The possibilities are endless. Because as much as we all might claim we want something new, what we really want is fresh takes on the cliches we can't get enough of.
Alongside our archetype series, every once in a while, The FMC will delve into one trope or another and explore why we love or possibly loathe it, look into some of the sub-categories that have steamed from its overuse, and provide a helpful guide to some places those who wish to can find it on the screen and page.
There were many, many tropes I considered starting with, but in the end, it only made sense to start with the first trope I fell in love with. No matter how often I encounter the near-infamous 'Only One Bed' trope, my heart rate is guaranteed to kick up a few notches. I am not sure exactly why I love it. I just know that I do. It is forced proximity dialed to level ten. If two characters–especially two that hate each other–are forced to share a mattress for a night, I get giddy. I know that in the next few pages, I will get one or more of the following:
a. A glimpse into the softer side of one, if not both, characters (swoon)
b. An admittance of attraction, external or internal, from one or both parties (giggles)
c. Grade A banter as the leads try to defuse the situation or bicker about their predicament. (Swoon AND giggles)
d. A release of the highly built-up tension in the form of some level of physical contact (swoon * possibly spicy edition*)
There is no way to lose. I have never in all of my reading history been burned by 'Only One Bed.' It is such a common occurrence in my fictional roster that my favorite authors and screenwriters have started to find ways to subvert my expectations, leading me to believe I am about to get the trope when, instead, the characters crash on the couch (in this scenario they still end up sleeping in each other's arms, even if it is less intentional) or, in what is my personal favorite from a novel that shall remain unnamed for spoiler reasons, an extra bed is pulled from thin air at the last second. I felt so called out by how much I wanted it to happen that I laughed for a solid minute.
Once, a TikTok filter perdicted this was the trope, I would experinence. It hasn’t happened yet, but a girl can hope.
To my knowledge, my introduction to 'Only One Bed' was through 2010's Leap Year. The Ireland-based travel romance is a favorite of mine for many reasons, but when Anna and Declan put aside their proclaimed dislike of each other to procure a bed at a local B&B–under the guise of a fake marriage, no less!!– I smile like an idiot. I have been a sucker for the scenario ever since.
To do my due diligence, I attempted to come up with cons for this trope. When I was unsuccessful, I even Googled "Cons of Only One Bed Trope." I was met with absolutely zero results, but that could just be my search engine algorithm working against me. If this cliche is bottom-tier for you, please tell me why. I am morbidly curious.
One of my favorite sub-categories of 'Only One Bed' is when the sleeping quarters, be that a hotel, cabin, safehouse, home, what have you, actually have enough space. But then, something happens that makes one character join the other under the covers. That instigating event can be anything aside from the outright admittance of attraction. I love it when the reason is a nightmare or perhaps a low temperature. The best writers do a great job of leading their audience away from thinking anything will happen until the last possible second or the turn of a page reveals that despite adequate sleeping arrangements, the beloved trope will triumph after all.
Besides the movie mentioned above and The Proposal starring Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds, you can find 'Only One Bed in an ever-growing list of books. Some of my favorites include Happy Place by Emily Henry, The Duke & I by Julia Quinn (Bridgerton: Season 1), The Flatshare by Beth O'leary, and Portrait Of A Scotsman by Evie Dunmore.
