WASHINGTON — The other night I slept on a twin bed in the guest room of the house I share with my husband and our two kids. We have a comfortable, firm king-size bed in our master bedroom, but my husband was sick and gross, so rather than hop in the sack with him, I decided to quietly slip down the hallway and sleep alone.
It was the best night's sleep I've had in years.
For once, I was able to sleep in my preferred position - on my stomach in a big X, socked foot hanging off the bed to the right, sockless foot hanging off the bed to the left. There was no tug of war over the covers, no pokes in the back to alert me to my snoring, no waking up to a wiggly kid (or two) in bed with us. In fact, no waking up at all. It was, pardon the pun, a dream.
Having slept so great solo made me wonder, why don't we all sleep alone?
I tossed this question to the hive mind at Slate and was surprised that many had similar feelings.
"Yes! I think about this all the time."
"Bring back separate beds!"
"I recall liking [sharing a bed] at one point . . . but now . . . after like 9 years all I think is, 'Stop breathing on me!'"
"Humans are surprisingly hot. Sharing a bed with a person is like sleeping with a radiator. When I have a girlfriend, there's a 'cuddling time' after which we move as far away from each other as possible to actually sleep. But I'm romantic that way."
Exactly. Sharing a bed is good for sleeping together, but not actually sleeping together. We all know the importance of sleep, so why then do we still choose to share our beds with the kickers, the snorers and the human furnaces that we love?