First time I ever moved in with someone other than my parent was when I was 22. It was a rather peculiar situation too and even though it didn’t quite turn out as I expected I did learn more than a lot from it.
And so I thought, hey, why not share my experience so that the next person who finds him or herself in the same situation would not make the same mistakes I did.
And that is why I’m telling this story about my trials and tribulations of moving in with someone I loved
A Quick Backstory
No story’s complete without a quick backstory, right?
So I was out of college, young and jubilant, and most importantly restless as hell. I mean I told myself I was calm and everything, but really I was just raring to go.
As is customary around here I spent the year after college at my parent’s, until I moved out after a spat – to the chagrin of the whole community.
And what’s worse, I wasn’t just moving out of my parent’s – as though that wasn’t bad enough – I was moving into my boyfriend’s! The horror!
My parents nearly disowned me for moving in with George. I was going to be an artist and they didn’t like that. They wanted me to work in the bank, I had no plan in hell of doing such a thing. So that was why we fought.
George, on the other hand, was an aspiring writer. In retrospect he wasn’t very good but being in love made everything seem ten times better than it was. Hell maybe being in love even made my love for him seem strong than it was.
Either way, I moved in with George, and thanks to love, even his shabby apartment, his non-chalance, his snoring, his morning ordor, all appeared ten times better than they were.
I Loved George
Subscribe to our newsletter!
Even though it might not have been as much as I thought, truth is I did love George. And that’s the first place where the trial and tribulations of moving in with someone you’re in a relationship with can screw you up.
The solution is quite simple. though.
Make sure you love them, it’s a no brainer.
Bring Your Stuffs
Another no-brainer, right? right? Wrong!
I didn’t bring shit. I was young and fresh out of college, i.e broke! Plus most of my stuffs was my parents and they were too mad at me.
A few clothes, a brush and drawing papers. Those were all I had. Hell I didn’t even have a toothbrush cos we’d share, right? (imagine my shock at the at the morning mouth odour.
Bring your own stuffs, it’s a no-brainer – except you’re me.
Here’s another that seems like a no brainer in theory but is a lot, lot harder in practice.
Anyone moving in with anyone would cede a little of their privacy, for sure. But lovers tend to be naive and think, hey I’m in love and s/he’s a part of me. I don’t have to cede anything.
Right? Right? Wrong!
Trust me there still will be time when you have to do your own thing. And the worst part is you might even feel guilty about this when the time comes. But you should not!
Craving a bit of privacy even in an intimate love relationship is perfectly okay. And guess what, moving in with your lover, you lose a bit of this privacy.
Lucky for you, though, it shouldn’t linger too long. A quick walk, a breath of fresh air, a dive into a good novel (which, thank God, is always solitary) or at worst a few weeks’ vacation will work magic.
Chores, Chores, Chores
This is the worst! I come from a part of the world where girls are expected to do all the chores. Back at home, though, I was considered grown up enough to have my siblings do everything. It was fun watching them do it.
But at George’s Karma caught up to me like lightning.
I mean, he was willing to help and everything. But he was just inherently lazy at chores. And so, I had to do a lot of chores. And I mean a lot.
Divvy up the chores and talk about it. Don’t just slave away in silence and smile like I did.
AH, another really awkward and serious one. In my case it was simple, I was broke, and George was less broke. I still worked as hard to make sure I wasn’t a liability. And even though he did handle most of the bill, I made sure I chipped in once in a while.
And of courses I did all of the chores so.
Your case might be different, but one thing’s constant: never be a financial liability to the person you love. No matter how much they love you, it does get a little tiring.
Not so much the fact that you don’t have, but the fact that you’re not even trying. Most times all they want to see, frankly, is you trying.
Still on Privacy
I know we talked about privacy already but this is something a little bit different than just seeking fresh air.
It’s something I call “uneven attention span.” Or it’s inevitable counterpart “uneven attention appetite.”
Let me give you an example:
George and I were at the opposite ends of those spectrum. He needed attention every single second and I – I had a high attention span but the lowest appetite for it, meaning I didn’t really need the attention and frankly got tired of giving it everytime.
In relationships like this where partners differ greatly in their need for attention, things might get rocky, and the funny thing is, one would think moving in would solve the problem, but it only fixes it for a while.
In the end the divide become a lot more obvious.
Balance and Communication. Communication and balance.
Home Don’t Feel Like Home
It’s going to take a while, to be honest, to get comfortable. I mean it obviously differs from person to person, but the point is, don’t beat yourself up when you don’t feel comfortable at their house for a while.
I mean it is their house anyway. These things take time. Give it time and don’t fight it.
Make a few changes. Not too much (don’t appropriate the house on your first day.) Or do, if you’re that close. Again, it depends on you and your particular situation, but in any case, give it time and all becomes clearer.
Moving in with anyone is hard. Moving in with some you’re in love with is expected to be easier, and this is true to an extent, but at the same time is no walk in the park.
I never felt truly comfortable at George’s till the end, and while the story of our breakup is one for another day, I will say this, moving in with him, despite coming with its fair share of trials and tribulations, still came with a lot of advantages.
I learnt a lot and even found myself, and in the end I made peace with my parents. So yes, that part of my life had a happy ending.
Thank you for reading my story.
Striving to publish contents that are philosophically, emotionally, and intellectually resonant, our posts and articles are written based on questions, challenges, and topic suggestions provided by readers like you. Read more here on how to get your contributions to us and published.