10.19.2015

GROWN-UP.



Adjective: adult.
I'm officially moving in with my boyfriend. This time last year I was only just becoming comfortable with the labeling of girlfriend/boyfriend. Now, after months of real life house hunters Montreal, we've signed a lease together. We decided on a spacious, slightly over budget yet perfectly located condo. I'm a little nervous; am I really ready to be a grownup who shares a bathroom with a man?

We recently survived the make it or break it two week European vacation. Not that I had any (huge) doubts, yet we had never spent so much consistent (twenty-four seven) time together, so you really never know. Regardless of the few over dramatized events (caused by me): once in a spacious field coming from a beautiful Grotta in a small Italian town, walking to the car, where I stubbornly took a separate path after an argument with him. The entire time I crossed my fingers that I wouldn't run into a snake or rodent and instantly regretted parting ways as I rushed through the deserted hot field alone. The second instance occurred on a busy London road and although I told him to leave me alone as we walked back to the hotel, he kept turning around to ensure I was following and safe. The trip only reassured me that we, me and him, the relationship, truly works. The everyday problems are normal and we move through them together; we balance each other out in all the right ways.
The bigger issue, non boyfriend related, is that for the past thirty-one and a half years I have lived at home. Not only have I lived at home, but I am a single child and have never really had to share space with anyone. For this reason I am extremely grateful that we never gave in to any of the six hundred square foot with the washer and dryer in a hallway closet type of place. I can't help but wonder how many bad habits we've been keeping from each other. Although I'd like to believe that at this age we are pretty true to who we are...at all times...at least now after over a year of being together?!
The second concern is there is no bathtub. This (missing) detail is not an issue for the majority of people, for me it causes small tremors of anxiety. The bathtub is my relaxation escape. It is where I go to drown in bubbles and drink tea and read books; almost every night. In addition, my (shared) dog will be staying with my parents. As explained long ago, he really has become my mother's dog. He also isn't actually legally allowed as per my lease. Between the lack of bath and no dog my heart sinks in an excited sadness. It's like winning the medium stuffed bear at the fair when you really wanted the over-sized one. You know you don't NEED it, but you can't help but wish for it anyways.
The excitement precedes; this is the just the beginning. One day we will have a bathtub and a dog (to my boyfriend, if you are reading, I said one day!); for now I will take advantage of not having to clean a bathtub and/or walk a dog.

Now all we need is some furniture...
Merde.

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