Another man I dated used his futon as both a couch and a bed.
He was anal-retentive about his belongings his room was sparse, and everything had its exact place. He had developed an elaborate ritual around going to bed he would unfold the couch, align the pillows along the edge of the futon, then unzip a sleeping bag and carefully spread it out as a comforter.
Because of his futon's double duty, the bed was often full of crumbs and grit.
In the mornings he would reverse the process, and put everything back in its proper place. After he had folded the bed back up and put the sleeping bag away, the night before would be suddenly effaced from the room. It felt as if I had never been there when the bed was gone, my proper place wasn't in his room at all.