I am about to graduate with honors… from the Live-In
Girlfriend School of the Performing Arts.
My boyfriend, Chris, and I have been living together for a
year and half of our two and a half year relationship. It’s been amazing. Just
me. Just him. Just our fluffy, fat cat. Oh, and 5 of Chris’ nearest and
dearest. That’s right. Roommates. And I am not talking chore sharing, late
night gabbing, “Hey, my curling iron sucks. Lemme get yours for a minute!?”
roommates. Nope, let’s try boys. Dirty dish leaving, crude joke making, never
can get a damn hour straight with my DVR recordings- BOYS! I don’t have to
spell out for you just how interesting this year was. And it is no secret that
I am jumping out of my skin for our last day in this house. I don’t feel any
guilt in saying this because, as much as he has loved living out the “college
dream” for a few… extra years… Chris is just as excited as me. Maybe more.
We are about to nest. I always thought that expression was
ridiculous. But in all honesty, that’s exactly it. Living in a house with so
many roommates made it very difficult for me to be able to voice any domestic
opinions. I was lucky if they remembered to take the trash out, much less
remember to hang the dish towel back on the hook. Any time I bought new flat
ware or glasses, those babies were broken or “accidently” thrown out within
weeks. For the last 11 months, the most decorative pieces on these walls? A
Marvel Super Heroes poster and most recently, an electronic dart board. Now, we
will have an apartment all to ourselves. To do with as we please. A full 1039
square feet.
I have been shopping for this apartment for almost a year
now. That finish line is what fueled my, admittedly, ridiculous organizational
fire. I had pots, pans, appliances, and dish sets before we even picked our
apartment. I knew what colors our accent walls and sheets would be. We have
everything short of chach-kas. You can see both of our personalities in the
things we've chosen. And I like it that way.
See, we knew before moving into our current living
situation, it was only for a year. Not everyone was fully accepting of that.
I’d like to call it male denial. Maybe they weren’t ready to give up their
buddy. I can appreciate and understand that. But, hey, guys. College is over.
The frat house is closing up shop. Commitment is very in this season and my
boyfriend looks great in that color.
Much like a Phoenix, this is where we shed our old feathers
and grow some new. I am so lucky and, okay, so savvy, so that Chris and I are
blessed enough to have the luxury of new things. Everything short of clothes,
books, memories, and pricy products is meeting its timely end on the curb of
this driveway. It’s a harmonious combination of binging and rebirthing. In
short: out goes the crap!
I can accept the nest terminology for now. It’s kind of like
I’m taking all these contributions from my life and he is pulling in all these
contributions from his. Together we are going to build a home together, just
like a bird would build a nest with sticks and straw and cotton. Neither of us
have ever done this before. But I am glad I saved such a huge milestone until I
met Chris. I’m sure, with anyone else it would have been a disaster and not
nearly as fun. I’ll be living with my boyfriend and my best friend. Who could
ask for better? I know this is going to get interesting. I’m prepared for all
the highs and have a few back up plans for any emergency lows. But I have
always been a glass half full kind of girl and I have a feeling this is going
to be a very satisfying drink.
I did most of my maturing, and continue to grow, in a time
when girls my age are idolizing fake baking, Jersey Shore inhabitants and boys
are being bombarded with “men-need-to-play-the-field” mentality. Chris and I are doing the exact opposite. That
doesn’t mean stopping our hopes or dreams. We are just choosing to achieve
these things with another human by their side. We like to think in terms of we,
not ball and chain. A team. It doesn’t work for everyone. But for us, we
couldn’t imagine anything better.
So, I’m 23 and nesting. And that is certainly worth writing
about.
