STRANGER THAN FICTION: DIFFERENT PHILOSOPHIES MAKE STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

Sharing a bed isn't always fun and games.

It didn't surprise me when scientists discovered that husbands and wives sleep better alone than together.

Remember that study completed earlier this year? Married couples went on and on about how they slept so well together. Women couldn't sleep a wink without their little snookie-ookums and men just had to have their old ladies.

Lies, all lies.

The study showed married men and women actually enjoy better sleep on their own. They breath better, they move around less and nobody complains when they snore or make other unpleasant noises.

Ladies, keep that in mind when you're facing another night of just you and your cat.

I remember those days with the cat. The Other Half and I were planning to wed, so I had rid myself of a skinny twin bedframe. Imagine my surprise when he announced the wedding was off! Imagine my dismay at learning I'd be sleeping, not in his roomy queen-size, but on my same twin mattress! Only this time it would be on the floor!

Oh, those cold Cape Girardeau nights on the floor with my cat -- the only male I could stand to be around. Of course, he was neutered.

I'm not bitter.

That's all water under the bridge. The Other Half and I got back together, I dragged him down the aisle and now share the same bed. And, like the scientists discovered, sharing a bed has its downside.

For one thing, we have completely different philosophies when it comes to linens. It doesn't bother me to have the fitted sheet out of place here and there. Who cares? You're going to have your eyes closed all night anyway!

Mr. Half must have the fitted sheet perfectly tucked in around the mattress. If I make the mistake of getting into bed without tucking it, I actually must get out of the bed, watch him fix the sheet and then get back into bed.

Another thing. I've been known to have a few -- OK, several -- adult beverages and then collapse into bed without washing my face or brushing my teeth. Sure, I end up with bad skin and sewer mouth the next morning, but it beats passing out on the bathroom floor.

Mr. Half could be in the final stages of the Ebola virus and manage to brush his teeth, wash his face and comb his hair before sliding under the sheets without wrinkling them.

Then there's the whole sound issue.

Mr. Half sleeps in complete silence. He doesn't snore, talk, grind his teeth, pass gas or moan.

I'm not sure, but I think I do all of those things.

Mr. Half loves it that I'm the sloppy sleeper. He likes to get up the next morning and say, "You snored all night long! You sawed those logs to no end! You sounded like a freight train!" His other favorite thing is to tell me all the stupid things I said in my sleep.

At least I haven't called out the name of my secret lover. JUST KIDDING!

Truth be told, it really is harder for me to fall asleep without my husband. The absolute worst is when we have a fight before bed and have to determine if we're capable of sleeping together or not. It goes like this:

ME: (Picking up pillow) Well, I guess I'd better sleep on the couch.

MR. HALF: No, don't bother. I'M sleeping on the couch.

ME: I'm already headed out there, so just stay here.

MR. HALF: I don't even want to sleep in this bed. I want to be out on the couch.

The dispute continues that way for five or 10 minutes. We're just waiting for one of us to apologize so that we both can sleep in the warm, wide bed instead of alone on the cold, cruel couch.

So let scientists keep their statistics on breathing and comfort. I think I'll stay in bed with Mr. Half, snoring and grinding my teeth as long as he'll have me.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.