Last year, I celebrated Marc’s and my two-year anniversary with a post on how we met. It seemed appropriate for our three-year anniversary to post about our first year of living together.
A lot of people have asked me about this—the adjustment of moving in together. Was I nervous? What if it didn’t work out? How would we navigate all this new stuff?
The main thing I can say about living with Marc is we are confused and disturbed as to why an adult hasn’t checked in on us.
Every relationship is different, but one year of living with Marc has confirmed what I always believed: I could have moved in with him after our second date, and everything would have been fine. Living with Marc is really just living with me, except with more whimsy. Like me living with me in a cartoon, where John Denver songs are constantly playing and I have many animal friends.
Okay, perhaps it isn’t that whimsical. That sounds like a bad ‘shroom trip. But the adjustment wasn’t major for me. Our relationship is one of those that simultaneously feels like three years, three days, thirty years, and three-hundred years. It seemed like a lot of people expected me to say I felt pressured to constantly look cute and to pretend I don’t burp. That is not us, nor has it ever been. I am many things, but cute is hardly one of them, and demure, even less so. Quirky might be a better adjective. Or weird. Or concerning. You decide!
That said, a few things are different. A few things that may help prepare you if you, too, are considering living in awkward sin.
-At first, it will seem like you’re playing House.
I remember the first night we were together in our apartment and I went outside to tell him dinner was ready. And it was just so freaking surreal. It was like I was coming out of my Fisher Price play house to tell my friend/husband, who we drew a mustache on for authenticity. It eventually all becomes routine but in the beginning, you feel like you’re watching the family-friendly sitcom version of your life.
-You realize how many strange noises you make throughout the day.
It’s natural to be a bit more self-conscious, a little more hesitant. I was afraid to get up in the middle of the night because Marc is such a light sleeper (contrary to myself, who could sleep through Gilbert Gottfried arguing about politics with the MGM lion while Transformers 3 plays in the background). Through that extra self-consciousness, you learn things about yourself. Apparently every emotion I have manifests itself in an other-worldly noise. Whooooeeee means I’m happy, awgawgawg means I’m sad, bleeeehhhh means I’m experiencing ennui, boooooooppppmmmmm means I’m nervous. I never really noticed before. Now we just make noises at each other all day, having whole conversations in shuckshahhas and pffffftttttsss.
-You’ll want to cook because you’re cooking for someone else.
When I was just feeding myself, dinner consisted of hummus and pita chips or a microwavable bag of steamed broccoli. I don’t find the idea of making myself a nice meal compelling. But I want us to lead a nice, long, healthy life of making weird noises, so I have taken to making actual meals. Granted, 90% are some combination of beans and rice. The fiber keeps us young!
-You’ll become comfortable…too comfortable.
We’ve always been comfortable sharing things about ourselves with each other, but since moving in together, there’s been a lot of, “Can you check this weird bump?” and, “Can you shine this flashlight into my mouth?”
-You’ll rant more now that someone is there to listen.
I suddenly come home to another human everyday, which means he gets to hear all about every driver who pissed me off, every person who irked me, up to that little old lady who said, “Thank you,” so snidely! You never realize how much you have bottled up from your day until you can just throw it all out there. Sorry, love.
-There’s more singing and dancing.
When we’re not making whale noises, we are usually making up songs. Sometimes those songs are just shouting the other’s name to the melodies of the Les Mis soundtrack. Sometimes they are creative interpretations of Tracy Chapman’s greatest hits. Sometimes to avoid doing an actual workout, we will just start dancing. Essentially our apartment is just one giant Fringe rehearsal space.
There’s definitely a bit more bickering when you’re around each other all the time. We’ve never been fighters. But sometimes his answers to ridiculous and arbitrary Would You Rather questions are just…wrong…and he needs to know that!
–You’ll still miss them.
Even though we spend every evening and weekend together now, I still spend my whole day just waiting to get home so I can hang out with him. Even if hanging out just means sitting on our computers in silence, everything is better when he’s there.
I spent a good portion of my life making sure I never needed anybody. I have wanted to have people in my life, certainly, for their wonderful company. But I never wanted to feel like I couldn’t function if those people weren’t there anymore. I can honestly say I need Marc, on an emotional and spiritual level. He is an extension of myself. A better, smarter, funnier extension, but an extension nonetheless. That is both terrifying and exhilarating.
I am the luckiest.
Happy anniversary, sweetheart.