According to a survey, only 14% of couples sleep in separate beds every night. And while many of us might believe in the saying “couples who sleep apart grow apart” there are studies that show the opposite is actually true.
We at Bright Side believe that there are no wrong or right sleep arrangements, because to some, sleeping in different beds can be as pleasing as for others sharing a bed with their partner.
A poor night’s sleep can turn lovers into fighters.
According to research, sharing a bed with a partner that has restless sleep behavior can deprive you of 49 minutes of sleep each night. And, when one partner doesn’t get a proper night’s sleep because of the other, it will most likely result in a conflict between them the next day.
Actually, the study even confirmed that couples who tend to have a poor night’s sleep have more severe and more frequent fights than those who wake up well-rested. People who get a good night’s sleep, on the other hand, are more likely to be in a good mood, have lower stress levels, and be more patient.
Resenting your partner because you can’t get a good night’s sleep can be destructive to the relationship.
Snoring, fidgeting, and bed or blanket hogging are just a few of many reasons why some couples choose to sleep in different beds or even in different bedrooms. Lying awake listening to your partner snoring while you beat yourself up to fall asleep can lead to a build-up of anger, tension, and resentment toward your partner.
According to Jennifer Adams, author of Sleeping Apart Not Falling Apart, sleeping in a separate bedroom can even help a relationship thrive because both partners are not sleep deprived.
Each partner can tailor their sleeping conditions to their heart’s content.
Tina Cooper, a licensed social worker, sleeps in different bedrooms with her partner because of their opposite sleeping habits. “I’m a night owl, he’s an early bird. I need soothing sounds to fall asleep, and he likes silence. He likes a hard mattress, and I like soft and full of pillows. And because I don’t like the early day’s sunlight, my boyfriend gave me the master bedroom which gets less light and he has the second largest room that gets the sunrise he loves.”
How you spend the nighttime in your shared bedroom with your partner can also influence your daytime functioning, marital satisfaction, and psychological and physical health. And when 2 people with different bedtime preferences and nighttime schedules end up together, changing themselves just to please their partner’s needs might harm their relationship in the long run.
Sleeping in different bedrooms with your partner means that the 2 of you will have a place just for yourselves where you can relax after an exhausting day. This way, both of you can satisfy your needs without tiptoeing around and worrying about whether your partner might wake up because you want to watch the latest episode of your show before bed.
Even if you don’t remember waking up, disturbed sleep can have a negative impact on your overall health.
During the night, our brain cycles through the stages of sleep several times: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM (Rapid eye movement sleep). But when you interrupt the cycle by waking up during the night, it means that your brain spends more time in the light sleep stage and misses out on REM. And without sufficient REM your emotional well-being and cognitive performance suffer.
Interrupted sleep can also have short and long-term health consequences, like hypertension, weight-related issues, mental health problems, reduced quality of life, and other health-related issues.
People on Reddit share why they decided to sleep separately with their partner.
- “Because a good night’s sleep is more romantic than sharing a bed. I snore and toss and turn. He gives off literal village levels of heat in his sleep and I can’t stand the heat. I read, he can’t stand light. We keep different hours to an extent. A million reasons. We get along so much better this way.” — crankyweasels
- “My partner and I have completely separate bedrooms. We ’sleepover’ occasionally in each other’s rooms. However, we both sleep exponentially better apart. He’s a night owl and I’m an early bird. He wants only one sheet on him, I want 10 lbs of blankets. In addition, having a separate room allows me to decorate it however I want, have my own personal space, and keep it to the level of cleanliness I prefer. People look at us sideways when I mention the separate rooms thing, but it’s been a game-changer.” — eriasana
- “Different sleep cycles due to different work schedules. We are still madly in love and we both agreed to this because it’s the best for both of us.” — AFishInATank
- “Early in our relationship, 90% of our fights occurred in the bedroom. I like to sleep in a cold room with the fan on and white noise like a box fan. I also like to go to sleep with the TV on. She likes to sleep in a warm, still, cave in complete silence and darkness. We started sleeping in separate rooms and all of a sudden 90% of our fights stopped. Also, because we were getting real sleep, other fights turned more into heated discussions.” — ttc8420
What are your sleeping arrangements with your partner? Do you believe sleeping in different beds can help a relationship thrive?
New Homeowners Expressed Gratitude for the Additional Set of Keys I Supposedly Left, but I Never Provided Them, and None of the Locks Correspond to Those Keys
A mysterious set of keys discovered in their grandparents’ old house sends two sisters on a suspenseful journey into their past. As they delve deeper, they uncover a long-forgotten room that reveals the house was hiding more than just cherished memories.
My name is Emily, and I grew up in a house that was more than just bricks and mortar; it was a part of our family’s story. My sister, Megan, and I inherited this old house from our grandparents.
It was a little run-down, but it had character. It was the kind of place that creaks at night, where every sound seems to whisper a memory from the past. We used to laugh about the noises, chalking it up to old pipes or a settling foundation. But deep down, I always felt there was more to it, something almost alive in the way the house carried the echoes of our childhood.
I always loved that house, and not just because it was home. My grandfather, a quiet man with a heart of gold, spent countless hours teaching me how to fix things around the house.
We would spend entire weekends working on small projects like repairing a leaky faucet or sanding down the old wooden floors. He’d tell me stories from his youth, sharing wisdom wrapped in humor. Those moments were priceless, and every corner of the house seemed to hold a piece of him.
After Grandma passed, though, the house felt different, heavy, almost suffocating. Megan couldn’t stand being there anymore. She didn’t even want to step foot in the place after the funeral. While I clung to the memories, she was eager to let go and sell it.
She rushed the whole process, not even bothering with repairs or anything. We got a decent offer, and after some hesitation, I reluctantly agreed to sell it. Letting go was harder than I expected, but I knew it was time to move forward, even if it meant leaving a piece of my heart behind.
A few weeks after the closing, I get this text from the new owners:
“Thanks for leaving the extra set of keys! But we were wondering, what does #1135 mean?”
I blinked at my phone. Extra keys? I didn’t leave any extra keys. I had barely enough time to grab my own before we handed everything over. And that number? No clue. I texted them back:
“I didn’t leave any extra keys. Where did you find them?”
They replied:
“They were in a drawer in the kitchen. None of the locks match though. We tried every door, nothing works. Just thought it was odd.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Megan had cleaned out the kitchen. I hadn’t even been in there that much. So, where did these keys come from? And why did this feel off?
I texted Megan right away:
“Did you leave any extra keys in the house? The new owners found some in the kitchen, and they’re asking about #1135.”
Her response was almost immediate:
“NO. THEY NEED TO GET OUT. Tell them to wait outside the house. NOW.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. Megan never freaked out like this. She was always the cool, collected one. For her to react like this? Something was wrong. Really wrong.
I sent the homeowners a message:
“Hey, just to be safe, could you step outside the house for a bit? Something’s not sitting right with me. I’ll explain when I get more info.”
They replied, concerned but cooperative:
“We’re already out. Standing by the front door. What’s going on?”
I had no idea what was going on, but I needed answers. I called Megan. She picked up on the first ring.
“Meg, what is happening? What does #1135 mean?”
There was silence on the other end. Then, she let out a shaky breath.
“It’s… The code Grandpa used for the basement.”
I felt a chill settle over me.
“Meg… there’s no basement door in that house.”
“I know,” she replied, her voice uneasy. “But there used to be.”
My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
Megan was silent for a moment before she finally said, “I’ll explain everything later. For now, they just need to stay outside. I’m coming over with some people who can check it out. I’ll explain when I get there.”
The next hour felt like the longest of my life. Megan didn’t tell me anything over the phone after that, and I had no idea what to expect. I stood by, pacing nervously, while the new homeowners hovered near their front door, visibly concerned.
When Megan finally pulled up with a team of professionals, they didn’t waste any time. Without saying much, they went inside and headed straight to the basement. I watched from the yard, trying not to let my imagination run wild. The new homeowners stood beside me, exchanging worried glances.
After what felt like forever, Megan and the team finally came out. Megan looked both relieved and a little embarrassed. The professionals were packing up their equipment, and one of them gave a thumbs-up as they headed to their van.
Megan walked up to us, brushing off her hands.
“No danger,” she said with a small, apologetic smile. “Everything’s fine. They checked the basement, and there’s nothing hazardous down there. No gas leaks, no chemicals, no faulty wiring.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, but the confusion still lingered. The new homeowners also looked relieved but clearly wanted an explanation.
“So… what was all this about?” I asked.
Megan sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry for the scare. I honestly didn’t think we’d ever have to deal with this. When I saw the number 1135, it jogged my memory.”
She looked over at the new homeowners and then back at me. “Do you remember how Grandpa used to always do little projects around the house? Years ago, he built a storage area in the basement where he kept tools, extra supplies, and things he didn’t want us kids messing with. He sealed it off when Grandma got sick because they needed the space for medical equipment. I thought everything was cleared out, but I guess not.”
I blinked. “So, what’s #1135?”
“It was the code Grandpa used for that storage room,” Megan explained. “When I saw that number, I panicked. I thought if the new owners found keys, maybe there was something left in that room that could be dangerous — like old supplies or chemicals. I didn’t want to risk it, so I had the professionals come to check.”
The new homeowners exchanged a glance, one of them speaking up. “So the keys are just for an old storage room?”
Megan nodded. “Yeah. I’m so sorry I didn’t mention this earlier. I honestly thought Grandpa had cleared everything out, and I completely forgot about the room after we sealed it up. But when you said you found those keys, I remembered the old room, and I didn’t want to take any chances.”
I shook my head, still a little stunned. “So, there was nothing dangerous down there after all?”
“Nothing at all,” Megan confirmed. “Just some old tools and supplies Grandpa stored years ago. No chemicals, no faulty wiring — it’s completely safe.”
The new homeowners both sighed with relief, one of them smiling. “Well, at least we have an extra room to use now.”
Megan laughed a little, still looking apologetic. “Yeah, think of it as a bonus storage space.”
As the professionals finished packing up and drove off, the tension in the air finally lifted. I gave Megan a look, half-amused and half-exasperated.
“You could’ve told me all of this from the start, you know.”
Megan shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t want to freak you out until I was sure. And honestly, when I saw that number, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just remembered Grandpa sealing it off and got worried something dangerous was left behind.”
In the end, it turned out to be nothing more than an old storage room full of forgotten tools and supplies, left sealed off when Grandpa had no more use for it. The panic had been unnecessary, but I couldn’t blame Megan for being cautious.
As the new homeowners went back inside, grateful for the heads-up, Megan and I stood by the car for a moment, shaking our heads.
“I guess we can finally close the chapter on Grandpa’s house,” I said, relieved.
Megan nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, just one last surprise.”
And that was it. No mystery, no danger — just an old forgotten space that had stayed hidden for a little too long.
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