Recently, I was chatting with a friend of mine who just moved in with her boyfriend and we were discussing all of the challenges that brings. There are a few schools of thought on living together, but one thing is consistent for most people I know – it can be very difficult.
Last week, I came home after a long day of work and dinner with friends to find my husband sitting on the couch, playing on the internet and watching This Old House. His shoes meet me at the entrance to the living room and his mail and other papers are all over the dining room table. The dishes sit in the sink from last night, the laundry is piling up and the house is still decorated for Christmas. An argument ensues because I am tired and feel like I am the only one who ever cleans our house.
David and I moved in together a year ago, which was four months after we became engaged. We waited for some time for a variety of reasons, but most of all because we were both used to living alone. The last roommates I had were in grad school, when I was living in Ohio. Everyone is nice in Ohio. It was a three bedroom apartment. And it was 11 years ago. My ability to tolerate other people 24/7 has decreased tremendously since that time. Since then, I have been messy, able to order takeout on a whim, eaten pints of ice cream without feeling fat, taken my laundry to someone and paid them to do it, and received notices from Con Ed because I had not used gas in months and they thought something was wrong. I lived the epitome of the single life, and frankly, I loved it. No sharing of the bathroom, the cable, the sheets, the food, the space. No consideration of timing, guests, closet space, music choice or where to sit on the couch. And for some reason, any mess that was present when I lived alone was not a bother. There were days I left the dishes and would drop my shoes, coat, etc. wherever. But now that he’s here all the time and the ‘stuff’ is doubled, I find it terribly frustrating.
Another reason we waited was more purposeful. Moving in together is tough. I did not want to live with David until I really had to, until we were what I considered permanent. My fears were that if he saw how I lived and did not like it, or if I saw how he lived and did not like it, we would give up and go our separate ways. I did not think it would be fair to either of us if we used living together to assess our relationship. Old school as it may seem, these can be muddy waters if you are not sure where your relationship is headed. I believed that if we were going to commit to marriage, to a lifetime together, we would have to be able to get through many things and living together will likely be the least of our upcoming challenges. Of course, every relationship is different and I am certainly not a judge of what works for others. I just knew it would not work for me.
Now, back to the ongoing argument of ‘who does more’ (which, from what I understand, only gets much worse when children join the family). Both of us always feel that we do more than the other and David is actually assigned more chores, but that is simply because I finish them. For example, he does the laundry. One might assume that means sorting, washing, drying, folding, putting away. In his case, it means sorting, washing, drying, leaving in a basket in the living room for a week. This is where I step in and finish the job. Always a fan of teamwork, I certainly do not mind helping out, but would love coming home to a clean house without having to ask my co-captain. So the argument continues…
But let’s not forget the perks of living together, of which there are many. It is such a joy to come home and have someone that loves you most in the world sitting on the couch, happy to see you and ask about your day. The test of the chore list is nothing compared to knowing you have a partner in the battle against your noisy neighbors, the occasional bug, or the management company. And there is nothing better than setting the table for the delicious homemade meal that completely trumps any option for takeout. My husband has made our house a home in so many ways – reorganizing our kitchen so everything fits better, making the bed every single day, fixing everything that needs to be fixed, getting us the new super quiet toilet seat, and remembering the names of all of the Real Housewives even though my love of Bravo irks him completely. At the end of the day, living together is just a piece of the partner puzzle – a challenging, exciting, wonderful puzzle that will never be complete. And maybe that’s the best part.
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