Before I launch into my big “what does it all mean?” post, two things:
First, I just wanted to take a second and tell my sister, Ellen, that I am thinking about her and her family. Despite my profession, I don’t always have the right things to say, and maybe sometimes and some situations don’t always require any bits of wisdom. But Ellie – you are on my mind, and I know that, like many other things in your life, you will persevere through this – you are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’re a great mommy.
Second, thanks so much for all the food suggestions. Not only did I have to actually make a grocery that consisted of things other than Smart Ones microwave meals (for one), peaches, frozen spinach and canned tuna, but it also reminded how effing lazy I have become when it comes to my eating. Not just lazy in my preparing it, but lazy in my shopping for it, thinking about it, etc. The most time I usually spend thinking about my food is the ten minutes it takes for my instant brown rice to cook.
And that ten minutes is usually spent inhaling a bag of pretzels and wondering what the hell is taking so long.
So thanks for bringing me back to honest.
As for the rest of this post – I figured it was about time to start talking about this.
(Neck crack, knuckle crack)
So in exactly one month, the Cheese and I will start cohabitating.
There it is. I said it.
My room for one will become an apartment for two.
Mostly, I am bubbling with excitement. See, Cheese and I have dated for the last 11 months (12 months by the time he relocates). He’s from Kansas, but spends 3-4 weeks of the month on the road for his job. His 4-5 day breaks between deployments are usually spent here in Chicago, so it made sense for him to move here.
But for these first 11 months of our relationship, we have mostly been apart, trying to build us up from these intermittent visits, and mostly phone conversations. And since most of our time is spent on the phone, I think it goes without saying that, when you try to build a relationship this way, it’s like a breeding ground for issues – all those things that new couples sweep under the rug those first blissful months were smacking us in the face right out of the gate.
So we’ve had some ups and downs. My insecurities RAGED (I mean, how would you deal if you knew your boyfriend was spending weeks in hotels with other girls? Me? Not so well). And for him, I think there was an adjustment period for him, too (I won't embarress him by laying them out here).
And the emotional stuff aside – we both have grown accustomed to being single – to having our own space, our own time, our own lives. I live alone, come and go as a I please, I eat what I want and certainly don’t cook (Cheese, in fact, was the first one to use my stove, even though I lived here for months before meeting him), shower three times a day, and sleep diagonal across my bed. My bed partner is often a stack of magazines and unread books, I stockpile tampons, I ride my bike on the trainer without worrying someone is sleeping, I fart and no one cares, and I have a tendency to leave my clean clothes unfolded in the basket until I need them. I have no concerns about the fridge housing only bottled water and ketchup, I own two plates and a pot I stole from my sister, and I tend to leave wet towels on the bed – basically, I am about single as it gets.
And decision-making – before, the only person I consulted about everything was ME. Wanna do an Ironman? Self says okay. Wanna go buy a new sundress? Self agrees, and suggests you throw in some shoes. Now these things will all require consultation.
It's sort of weird giving up my single girl status - not in the sense that I want to still date (I don't) but I have been the last (wo)man standing for so long that I guess I sort of got used to that identity.
Is that weird?
And then there are the implications of what this all means. Here again I should stress that I love this man – I loved him before I ever laid eyes on him, and every day I am amazed that even more love can get squeezed into the little openings in my heart. And though we can argue like champs, we love each other with a passion that refuses to let us quit. He constantly strives to be a better man to me, and I for him.
So it's natural to think ahead– I mean, he wouldn’t be moving here if we weren’t planning to move forward. It’s weird too, because we both came into this with a “no marriage” stance. And now that has changed. And for as much I want this all, it’s still scary, no?
Can he live with and survive my crazy? Can I live with and survive his?
I mean, I am not so naive to think that "all you need is love" to make things work. So do we have what it takes to make this work?
I'd like to think so. I'd like to believe that all the ups and downs have left us with greater respect and certainty that this is right - we are right.
I don’t know if I am even articulating this all very well – I am still sorting it all out.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I am standing on the edge of some really big changes.
Good changes, but big nonetheless.
Little Meggie is growing up.
And she’s bringing Cheese with her.
Hope he likes to Swiffer.