A series of concerns: Living together

Concern #1: Living Together

I’ve lived with a boyfriend before. If you’re paying attention at all, it’s clear just how well that worked out. (spoiler: not. well.)

Moving in with a significant other is a big step. It means things.

You may think you know what it’ll be like, you know ’cause you practically live together already spending, like, all of your time at each other’s places and stuff. But you don’t know. Living together is different. You are forced to experience the worst of each other, fast. And I’m not talking the gross things we humans do. Obviously you get to experience that up close in person (another spoiler: the book was right. Your schmoopy does, in fact, poop.) But when I say the worst of each other, I mean the worst parts of our personalities.

You’re on top of each other, and suddenly, there’s no escape. You have to merge your stuff. You think your blank is better, but he really likes his blank. Tug of war ensues.

I encountered this struggle. The gnashing of teeth and lives as your worlds collide inescapably.

He got annoyed when I organized. Really mad when I decided the utility closet was a better place for lightbulbs and batteries than the kitchen cupboard, where I put tea and food items instead. He was irritable about everything and I couldn’t figure out why. In hindsight, this was a red flag.

He never made space for me in his world. And it was his world. Not our world.

Living together is scary.

You get mad at each other for stupid things. Mad at yourself for being mad about stupid things. Mad that you’re mad at the person you love but godhelpmeifhedoesn’tstopdoingTHATTHING.

But then he says something like “I was thinking how it would be really important for you to have your own space, somewhere you could go to have time to yourself that’s all yours.” And you never said anything about how that’s important to you. He just knew it.

And he buys kiwis every week and cuts them for you and you’re not supposed to help because these are your kiwis. Because he likes buying you kiwis.

And he doesn’t get mad when you get cranky and don’t realize that you’re cranky. He just gets you a snack. Because you’re hangry. Or water, because you’re dehydrated. Or just keeps on going because it doesn’t matter.

Living together is scary. But it could work if you’re patient and kind and try not to get too hangry. If you apologize and forgive and forget. Right?

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