#LivingInSin

It's official: Year One of #LivingInSin is on the books!

Going into this, as you know, I was a bit apprehensive. And I had a freak-out (aka total meltdown) about all my stuff, as I attempted to squeeze my life into a shared space. BUT, I was also stupid excited about living with the beau.

Pre-move, in my glass case of emotion.

So... how did it go? We've officially been through four seasons, haven't murdered each other, and still cohabitate. So, something is going right. But was it as expected? Looking back at my original thoughts, pre-move (aka the posts linked above), was it par for the course?

Just as I thought

• While cohabitating, I still refuse to pee with the door open and walk around naked. Because I'm a g'damn lady and I am not comfortable flaunting my flub with anyone, no matter how much rent money they pay.
• Sadly, I was right. I don't dance as often. Making mental note to amend this. 
• I miss a good old fashioned full-bed, starfish sprawl. Luckily, the beau leaves for work an hour before I do, so for that last glorious time after he leaves, that bed is allll mine. All the blankets. I get to have them all perfectly arranged and stationary. 
• The access to Netflix, Hulu, HBO Go, etc. is pretty sweet. I watch way more TV than I used to. And all the choices stress me the heck out. 
• The beau balances me. Sure, I don't get to dwell in my anxiety and slip-slide around my doubt spirals all alone and unsupervised anymore, like I did when living alone, but that's probably a good thing. My freak-outs don't go unchecked. He checks me. It's comforting.
• I talk on the phone way less. Kind of a bummer. I try to save my chit-chat for when I'm in transit, or out for a walk, etc. so I'm not creeping around our apartment whisper-gossiping. Not that he'd be dropping any eaves anyways, but I feel like in a confined space it's hard not to overhear. 
• Hosting is more epic. Co-hosting and being able to split prep is fantastic. 

Didn't see that coming... 

• I still eat like a ten year old and have no qualms with being judged. I worried that my days of laying on the couch with a full pot of mac were going to be guilted away, but never fear, I've held strong in resolve to dump trashy food into my maw when I'm having a bad day. And the beau bakes. Which just adds to it. 
• Speaking of eating, yeah, I kind of thought we'd end up being one of those cute Insta-couples who meal preps every Sunday and grocery shops together. But honestly, we're busy. We don't often coordinate that much in advance. When we grocery shop, we both get what we want, and for the meals we want together, we each grab some of the stuff for it. It's not a total roommate situation where if I eat one of his apples he leaves a passive-aggressive note. (But if he eats one of my yogurts, he knows I'll panic. Yogurts are different, because I only bought four even though I need five to have breakfast every day at work, and if that goes down to three then I'm a starving angry bear for half the week).
• Oldies music still bumps out on a regular basis, just less so from my glow-dial radio and moreso from Alexa (that demon she-bot who moved in with us).
• I thought I'd be more assertive about taking me-time, but I honestly suck at it. My "me-time" is usually going to grab happy hour or a movie with the gals. (Lady time has not been dampened by living with the beau - huzzah!) On the occasions when I get the apartment to myself, I usually just hulk out cleaning / doing laundry and then frantically text everyone to spend time with me. It's actually not a great thing, because it comes with the occasional spaz out over needing alone time, even though I don't take advantage of it when I get it. Need to find some chill. 
• Paranoia. It's virtually gone (KNOCK ON WOOD). As someone who used to occasionally have a paranoia attack and lock herself in the bathroom with a kitchen knife and end up sleeping in the tub, this calmness is refreshing. I'm still 99% sure that someone is fucking with me though when things wind up in weird places or randomly moved. But that's just, some sort of karma probably.

With living together, I've loved our location, our creepy old apartment, our proximity to cool shit and friends, my commute, and above all, my time with the man who agreed to dwell - he's swell. The main thing I haven't loved: myself. After so many years of living alone, all my very worst traits crept back out to play as soon as they had a roomie present to put on a show for:

• My OCD over stupid things: Like, how there IS a RIGHT way to hang your wet towel on the bar so it dries quicker and doesn't get moldy. Or how to load a dishwasher so you can fit the most things, so you save water and energy and little dishwasher tablet thingies. I really try to not sweat the small stuff, but sometimes I just sweat it out. It makes me seem like a g'dman nag. NO one wants to be a nag.
• My hangry attitude: Seriously. When I'm hungry, I'm just an awful person. Living together and seeing each other all the time vastly increased the likelihood of the beau seeing me famished. To his peril.
• The exposure of my post-work-day angst: Living alone, I had time to come home, fume a bit and blow of steam so I could be all smiles by the time I interacted with other humans. Now, on stressful workdays, I have a 5 minute commute home before I'm stomping in on the man I love, with fire in eyes and rage in my voice. He gets hit with the brunt of it unless I awkwardly run away and hide while I decompress. (Usually I go to the bathroom and putz around in there. He probably thinks I have awful digestive issues...)
• Social anxiety: You'd think that always being around another person, I'd have my fill of socialization. But honestly, I get worried about being one of those people who only ever spends time with their significant other. We all have a friend like that. You know... what's her name. She started dating that one guy and was never seen again. I can't. That scares me. 

I don't want to point out every little baddie, or pretend that everything is always shiny when living with someone else. It's just not realistic. I have been so so lucky though that I get to live with someone who makes me smile and laugh. Who lets me paint radiators or closets at a whim. Who kills centipedes (if I can't get to them first). Who loves me even when I'm wearing that ratty old pair of PJ shorts from college (how did they survive the moving purge??). Who knows my Erbs and Gerbs order and preemptively orders it as he sees me having a rough day (because that Quatro always makes things better). So yeah, overall, I'm thrilled that #LivingInSin year two is going to be a thing. Cheers to another year!

What if we don't want to yield? #CantStopWontStop