I’ll admit it: the first time I heard a Japanese friend casually mention that she and her husband sleep in separate rooms, I was stunned. Not because I thought their relationship was on the rocks—she actually spoke about him with warmth and humor—but because, growing up in the U.S., I’d been taught that sharing a bed was almost synonymous with a healthy, loving partnership.

But in Japan? Not so much.

Here, separate sleeping arrangements among couples—especially married ones—aren’t just normal, they’re often preferred, especially in those over 60 years old. And it’s not about lack of love. It’s about sleep. Space. Kids. And frankly, the shape and size of the apartments. After living here for years, it’s one of those things that slowly stopped seeming strange, especially after hearing the logic behind it from everyone, from coworkers to neighbors to older couples I’ve met through work.

Let’s break it down.

Sleep Comes First

This might sound cold if you’re used to cuddling to sleep, but ask around in Japan and you’ll often hear the same thing: sleep is sacred. It’s a country that ranks consistently low in average sleep time—less than 6 hours a night, according to the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare—and long work hours don’t help. So, people get serious about optimizing their sleep.

Snoring? Tossing and turning? Different wake-up times? Those are solid reasons to part ways at bedtime. And honestly, after a few years living in a cramped apartment with thin walls and a partner who grinds his teeth in his sleep, I kind of get it.

Sleeping in separate beds—or even different rooms—helps both partners get uninterrupted rest. You’ll find this especially true among dual-income couples juggling work and parenting.

The Futon System

Traditionally, many homes use futon (foldable mattresses) on tatami mats, which can be moved and stored in the closet during the day. Historically, futons come in just one basic size—there’s no “king,” “queen,” or “single.” People measure sleep space by counting futons: one futon, two futons. Each person gets their own. So “sleeping together” simply means placing futons side by side. Even small children often have their own child futon placed next to a parent’s. There’s even a saying that a happy family sleeping together looks like the kanji 川, each line representing a person lying closely but separately.

A couple might start out sharing a room or bed, but after a baby comes along, one parent often moves to the other room to get real sleep. Over time, that arrangement sticks.

This is part design, part survival.

Kids Take Over the Bed

Another major factor? Co-sleeping with kids.

According to a 2013 study on sleeping practices of Japanese preschool children, 87% of kids shared a bedroom with their parents. Sometimes, that means sharing a futon. Sometimes it means three people packed into a bed that was barely big enough for two.

And culturally, there’s less pressure to push for independent sleeping early on. If anything, the family bed is seen as warm and emotionally supportive. But it often results in one parent getting nudged out—or making a strategic retreat to another room.

It Could Be More Romantic

If anything, sleeping apart can actually help couples maintain a good relationship. It reduces little annoyances that can build resentment over time—like blanket theft, snoring, or constant midnight bathroom trips. And in Japan, physical closeness isn’t the default way to show love. You’ll rarely see couples kiss or hug in public, and affectionate displays are generally more subdued than in the U.S. or Europe.

That doesn’t mean intimacy is dead. It just happens on a different schedule, sometimes in a different room. (And sometimes, while the kids are at school and the house is quiet.) So you’ll visit each other’s room for a romantic night.

This idea of visiting rather than sharing a bed also echoes older customs of intimacy. In premodern Japan, practices like yobai (literally “night crawling”) involved a lover quietly visiting another’s room at night and leaving by morning. Don’t worry—it was usually consensual (except in some unfortunate cases) and often part of courtship rather than secrecy. The act of giving someone permission to enter your room was itself a sign of intimacy, since the sleeping space was typically one’s own—a single futon meant for one. Letting someone into that private space signaled trust and affection.

Interestingly, a similar tradition still exists among the Mosuo people of Yunnan, China, whose so-called “walking marriages” (zǒuhūn) allow partners to visit one another at night while maintaining separate households. In both cases, intimacy was imagined through movement and approach, not through constant proximity.

Some Couples Do Come Back Together

It’s not a forever thing for everyone. Some couples sleep apart for a few years while the kids are little, then go back to sharing a room later. Others keep the arrangement but occasionally have sleepovers in each other’s rooms—yes, like dating again. One friend even joked that it made things more exciting.

There’s no one-size-fits-all model, and that flexibility is kind of refreshing.

Should You Try It?

If you’re living in Japan with a partner and having trouble sleeping, you’re not alone. Separate beds, futons, even rooms are options that many couples here embrace without guilt. And if you’re raising young kids in a small space, it might be the best solution.

Sleep doesn’t have to come at the cost of connection. For many in Japan, it’s how they stay connected—by being better rested, less grumpy, and more present during waking hours.

Besides, sharing a bed every night isn’t a universal rule. It’s a cultural preference. And in Japan, preferences just happen to lean toward better sleep—and a bit more space.

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