1 bed or 2? For couples, that can be big question

My grandparents’ bedroom had two single beds, a la a 1960s sitcom.

By the time I was old enough to notice such interplay, though, Grandma slept in one of those beds and Grandpa slept on the couch downstairs. So each had his or her own for sleeping.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how couples sleep together, as my husband has been tangling with insomnia for the past two weeks — which means I have been tangling with insomnia for the past two weeks.

By the time my parents got married, couples commonly slept together in one bed. In fact, Mom and Dad still share a queen-size mattress, even though their house contains

two other empty beds (and two couches).

Nowadays, threefourths of coupled adults share beds, according to “The Stuff of Family Life,” a book by sociologist Michelle Janning due out May 15.

The author calls couplesleeping “a complicated, changing and often-challenging social experience” (I concur). She also says bed sharing stems from a cultural belief that couples should have such deep intimacy that they do everything together, even while unconscious.

That’s so true that even the Better Sleep Council, an arm of a group devoted to selling more mattresses, encourages couples to try a wealth of solutions before giving in to separate bedrooms — and, presumably, making more mattress purchases.

The council does say, though, that if your partner kicks, you should buy a bigger mattress.

Todd, my husband, doesn't kick (thankfully). But he does snore, steal blankets and, when he can’t sleep, turn on the light-ripple-casting iPad, or toss and turn in increasing frustration. He has also taken to unconsciously knocking a single knuckle against the headboard.

Not to be outdone,

I can't sleep without a noise machine and mouth guard, which I sometimes sleep-chomp on. I like the blankets pulled exactly to the edge of the mattress, for ease of flinging out a leg when I get warm. And when I get hot, I keep the top quilt over me but bunch up next to me the blankets and sheet underneath, creating a nest of sorts.

Also, I like to pull the blankets exactly to the point where they cover my nose but not my eyes. I would say that’s for ease of shielding against a lit-up iPad, but I’ve been doing this for far longer than we’ve owned that electronic device.

Despite all of this, Todd and I still sleep together 99 percent of the time. In fact, the only beds in the house are our shared queensize and our daughter’s full-size.

At least four couples in the past few years have told me that they don’t sleep together, for reasons such as children, snoring and restless legs. A co-worker who does sleep with her husband said the rare nights when they don’t yield “the best sleep ever.” That sounds like a dream. The truth has to be that successful marriages depend more on getting a base level of sleep than spending our unconscious hours side by side. It’s similar to food: Humans need a certain amount to become interested in anything else.

And yet, I’m still not ready to pull the separate-bed trigger. Societal pressure might play into my decision, and perhaps I’m emulating my best example of coupledom: my parents.

I also like the idea of showing my daughter that couples don’t have to be in sync 100 percent of the time to have satisfying relationships, and that hardships can still be met with a degree of humor and good nature.

Or maybe the cause is simply Todd’s scoffing laugh when I raised the idea — or that, unlike Grandpa, I wouldn't consider sleeping on a couch every night.

There'd be no room for my nest.