I live with a man (sometimes man-child) but a grown man none-the-less. He’s goofy, messy, caring, cranky, hilarious, and eats a lot. Trying to navigate a 652 square foot apartment with someone takes trial and error. Somehow more errors come out of the trials, but that’s okay. That’s the point. We get along well. We have a lot of the same beliefs and share commonalities (minus the John Mayer problem he has), and life is good in our tiny apartment just outside the perimeter.
We’ve been around the block, over the bridge, into the jungle…you get the picture. It’s been a long, trying, exhausting 4.5 years (2.5 of dating), but not long enough. That could be the reason I feel as though moving in together would probably work for us. I had been staying there, the cats were there, we’ve been through a lot both good and bad, and we are comfortable together.
It took a long time for us to get here and I’m okay with that. I don’t have a countdown on my phone. I have seen people rush, settle, get complacent, fight, cheat, stay, leave, and want to leave but stay instead. It’s just the nature of who we are. It’s not all perfect. It’s not supposed to be. At least we’re not perfect. Thank goodness we’re not perfect. Talk about exhausting.
I see perfect Instagram couples, which somehow have an influence on our relationships don’t they? Not the couples themselves, but what the image illustrates: perfection. When we see these seemingly perfect still images we get flustered, but are they honest?
I know couples who share one car, live hundreds of miles apart, and been through too many rough patches to count. They are happy – not perfect.
I decided to start writing about us because it’s the one thing I am closest to. I know how I feel, and that’s what I write. I also know that relationships are difficult to navigate, and believe that we are relatable in too many ways. Ways you will learn about as this new writing journey begins for me, him, and you.
Don’t worry, he’s editing all the final drafts.