- 5 years ago
- Wedding: June 2013
I’ve always been something of a lone wolf. I grew up an only child whose parents worked a lot (side note: they were awesome, loving parents who never missed a school play, soccer game, etc. We are super close.)
I knew from a young age that I wanted to go to college across the country, and live in a bunch of different places in my 20s. I also knew I always wanted to experience living alone.
I’m now 31. I spent my 20s doing all of the above and really getting to know myself–traveling, living with boyfriends, meeting new people, and then most recently living alone for 3 years before meeting FI.
I LOVED living alone. The freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I want. The ability to be a total slob one week and a neatnick the next. The option to sit around in my underwear eating cinnamon toast crunch while watching horrible reality tv all weekend without feeling like I’m an embarrassment to civilized society.
FI and I have lived together for two years now, and for those of you who cohabitate, you know all about the ups and downs of that arrangement–it can be an incredibly cozy feeiing or totally infuriating, depending on the day. Most of all it requires lots of patience and compromise.
He and I have a very compatible living arrangement, all things considered–he cooks, he cleans, he’s considerate. We have fun together. But there remains the constant need to agree on everything….how often the laundry gets done, what we’re going to have for dinner, whether or not to invite the naggy in-laws for lunch on Sunday when one of us is exhausted, etc.
I’m finding that lately, despite our great relationship and his awesomeness as a person, that I’m having amplified anxiety about all this compromise. I feel like I’m in a heightened, slow-mo state of losing my independence entirely. I feel like every day is a battle to remain calm and considerate and comprimising, when frankly I just don’t FEEL like it a lot of the time.
I don’t know if there are other women like me out there, but I hope there are. I ran a search for this topic on the Bee, but didn’t find much. A lot of my married friends appear to be nonplussed, even gung-ho about all the “we” ness of marriage–they look at the shared life as 100% romantic, as opposed to part romance, but also part mind-melting loss of self.
Some days (like today, where I sit here waiting for him to come home because he has a thing about us eating a quality dinner together and I’m STARVING and just want to make mac and cheese and get on with my night) are especially trying. I’m not looking forward to the 40 minutes of cooking and 30 minutes of dishes involved in this meal, but I’ve blown off a few dinners in the past week so I feel obligated to be there for him now.
And yes, I realize I’m complaining about a guy who cooks, but sometimes these homemade from scratch meals just aren’t important to me whatsoever, and I dread the clean up. I just want to get fed and get on with things. Before I met him I was the takeout queen. We ive in NYC–the land of 400 delivery places within 6 blocks. So this is a prime example of the incessant compromise I’m talking about.
Anyway, anyone feel me on this? How are you handling your pre or post nuptual loss of your former free as a bird self?