Happy month-iversary: Thoughts after a month of co-habitating

How is it? 

Does it feel weird? 

Are you liking it so far?

Have you killed each other yet?

Behold, just a few of the many questions I’ve fielded from friends as a woman newly co-habitating with her significant other.

One month to be exact. We’ve shared an apartment, bathroom, refrigerator, and an incredible walk-in closet for one whole month. There are days when I look around our place and at him, and can’t believe we live here together. Everything is so new, so unfamiliar. Then there are moments where I struggle remembering a time when this wasn’t our reality.

Either way, living together, even for just a month, has been one hell of an adventure. So instead of toasting a glass of wine (because I killed the last bottle the other night), or going out to dinner (budgets, people), I’ve decided to commemorate our first month with a blog post. Here’s a collection of the good, the bad…and the weird of co-habitating.

The Good.

Saying the word “our”. “Our” this. “Our” that. I know, I’m a sappy sucker, but it’s fun.

Manly man to do stereotypical manly work. I’ve never had furniture put together so fast.

Having all our shit in one place. As chic as it was to carry bags back and forth on Chicago Public Transportation, I’m glad that’s over.

Activities once done solo are now done together. Random afternoon bike ride? Sure why not.

Eating together…a lot. And not just pizza you ordered out of convenience, but a meal you prepared together with ingredients you picked out together.

Living room salsa dance practice…without the embarrassment of roommates walking in.

Not wondering when we’ll see each other again because of busy schedules. Our basecamp is now the same.

//Some fun apartment photos//

The Bad. 

His random shit…and having to express why it doesn’t belong anywhere other than the deep depths of a storage closet.

The visits to the bathroom. Is he curing cancer in there? Why is it taking so long?

Artery-clogging snacks mysteriously reappearing in the pantry.

Knowing that somehow, somewhere in this apartment I now call home, is a dirty magazine he’s probably had since freshman year of college.

His gym clothes in the laundry basket. I shop at H&M darlings, that fabric can only take so much. It’s a miracle the odor and sweat have a burned a hole through the polyester blend yet. Also, why do they sweat SO much?

The Weird. 

Saying “see you at home”…and meaning it.

The nights when he stays out late, and actually worrying if he’ll get home OK. Is this how parents of teenagers feel?

Being [basically] all one another has. We moved knowing only each other. It’s a lot of trust to put in another person and it feels good most of the time. But when you’ve just come from a life with instant access to all your friends, this new level of co-dependency is an adjustment.

This odd rush of guilt each time I leave to do something without him. Like he somehow he’s unable to entertain himself…like he’s never been alone before. The rush is short-lived…but it’s still there.

Knowing that anything you need to hash out, needs to be discussed now. No passively aggressively waiting till later.

Realizing just because I decorated the place, doesn’t mean it’s MY place. Suppressing the only child in me and learning to share a space. Meaning I’m not Monica Gellar and he doesn’t have to organize his things exactly the way I would.

Bonus: The Great. 

This unexplainable comfort I have knowing we’re in everything together…with an equal stake. From grocery shopping to preparing for networking events – we tackle it together.  Our partnership grows stronger every day.  It’s a bonus I’d hoped for, but still feel lucky to have.

Would love to hear from my fellow co-habitating babes! Perhaps tell me what’s in store for month two?!