I went over to my apartment the other night for one of the last times.
My roommate wasn’t home, as usual. The place was dark, half-empty and – because of my half-packing – half-depressing. It’s just a bland, beige apartment in a bland, beige apartment complex. I’ve only been there a year; I’m not going to miss it.
But I felt a little sad as I watched TV for a few minutes during my work break. I’m leaving my single girl apartment and moving in with a boy.
If you’d told me in January (when I started this blog) that I was going to date Kevin and move in with him by the end of the year I would have laughed my ass off.
Kevin and I recently observed (with a quick glance and no pomp) that we have officially been together for seven months. Is that too soon to move in?
Not for us. Some couples I know moved in within six months. One guy told me because of geography and jobs, he and his now-wife moved in after two. Another couple I know is past the two-year mark and still living in separate apartments. I guess it’s different for everyone.
He and I have not spent a night apart since July 1, with the exception of my weekend trip to see my parents this summer. I keep stuff at his place, and hang out there constantly when he’s not around. It feels more like home to me than my sad, beige apartment did the other night.
Some couples say things change when you move in. Some say they don’t. I’ve heard different views, but the naysayers often seem to be the people who later broke up, or who hit a few bumps upon merging.
I hear from some that the main change is that you notice you have less alone time at the house. You go out less, and spend more time at home, which sometimes frustrates one party or the other. Or you just get annoyed with the other person’s objects, messiness, way of doing things. When you’re staying at his place, you don’t care because it’s his place; he can do what he wants. But when it’s OUR place, suddenly his cute habit of clipping toenails in the living room becomes irritating.
But Kevin doesn’t clip his toenails in the living room. He and I are both geeky about organization, and wiggling with excitement about our upcoming trip to IKEA for some cool pieces for our new digs.
If he and I live together now and everything is fine, would keeping all our stuff in one place suddenly change things?
Whether we argue about whose turn it is the clean the bathroom or who is allowed to bring people over without checking, I’ll remember that my beige apartment hasn’t been home to me for about six months. Because home is where Kevin is. And now, that’s a two-bedroom, two-bathroom house downtown.