Sleeping with another person has nothing to do with love. I'm sure you'll be shocked at this insight, but the truth is that sleeping and sex are two separate things. And sleeping--the more important of those two--can be difficult unless both people agree on the basics.
What basics, you say? Well, temperature. I like the room--and preferably the bed--cool. The house hunk likes it warm. Very warm. Think oven. He accomplishes this by making the bed with a cotton sheet, a flannel sheet, two blankets, and a comforter. And complains that he's cold. I take care of my needs by tossing all the blankets, sheets, etc., on top of him.
Then there's light. He would prefer to be sleeping in a cave. Zero light. I am claustrophobic. I could go for a night light at the minimum--especially as I'm night blind. When I get up in the night for the inevitable potty breaks, I like to see where I'm going.
Now noise is... well, it's noisy. He could sleep through a hurricane--and has. Me? Not so much. A couple weeks ago I mentioned his c-pap machine. It's only moderately better than his snoring was. That vibrated the windows. If I'm going to listen to something while sleeping, I would prefer that it was some nice soft music. He says that it keeps him awake.
When he gets up in the morning, he talks to himself. Now I'll put on my underwear. Now I'll put on my socks. Now I'll go to the bathroom... Yes, I'm serious. And he can not figure out why I wake up. Does not have a clue.
I sleep really well from six a.m. until-- well, until. It varies depending on all the other things. If it's a rainy day? Then it's a rainy day and Anny sleeps until she wakes up. That's the breaks. And after forty years, well, we deal with it. Sort of an armed truce.
How about you?