I had just started calling J. my boyfriend when he asked me to move in – rather, told me I was moving in. He had posted my apartment on Craig’s List “just to gauge the response” and within an hour received six. At work when he delivered the news, I kind of freaked. I like my independence. I like my space. And when it comes to fight or flight syndrome, I’m like the Road Runner – Beep, Beep, Zroooooommm, I’m gone! Sponsored link: Spark the romance. Pamper yourself. Book your romantic spa getaway today. You deserve it! Click here to discover a great deal.
After a supportive reality-check from my female colleagues, I allowed the cohabitation notion to sink in. In eight quick months, we had gone from flirting at happy hour to Facebook friends to full-fledged summer hookup to falling hard — and would now share everything. A few days later, I squashed the “what ifs” and started packing.
We had what many urbanites would call a long-distance relationship. He lives on the Upper West Side; my pad was in the East Village, about as far away as is geographically possible in New York City. With all my clothing and personal effects stuffed into a Zipcar, I invaded his living space as any woman with too many pairs of jeans, leggings and shoes can do. I claimed a closet and a half, the crawl space, two dressers, a few under-bed drawers, a shelf in the bathroom and … I still need more.
Going from my ground floor studio apartment to his four-bedroom, 2,000 square-foot townhouse with three roommates is a bit of an adjustment, but a good one. Thankfully, his bedroom, err, our bedroom is on its own floor and there are three bathrooms and tons of closets.
It’s a few weeks in and I still have to remind myself, This is home, you are not just spending the night. Not only do I want to devour him physically, I love talking to him. Even when I think he’s not listening because his eyes and fingers are glued to his iPhone, he’ll surprise me with a witty retort. So I’m sharing some of my insight into our new love arrangement, and he has sent in his thoughts separately. Check out our She Said/He Said!
| HE SAID | SHE SAID | |
|---|---|---|
| Something That Annoyed You | Nothing. A lot … I dunno, I’m pleading the 5th on this one. | He wanted to invite a girl he used to date (that’s putting it nicely) over to watch a basketball game. This was three days in. I hung up on him. There was no way I was going to hang out comfortably with this girl in my living room. I don’t care if they’re still friends, I’ll see her out socially, I just don’t want her sitting on my couch – especially, when I know she’s still interested in him. |
| Something That Surprised You | How much her mother knows about me. Their conversations seemed to only entail swearing and hanging up after 27 seconds. Secretly, she has been disclosing many personal details about me. I find it quite flattering. | He’s been leaving me little surprises on my pillow when I get home from work, like a rainbow sticker one day and a note card with a memory scribbled on it on another. For such a tough guy, I’m sometimes taken aback by how sweet he can be. He also talks to his mom, like, three times a day. |
| On Closet Space | What closet?! I had two walk-ins and she enacted eminent domain on both as soon she moved in. It looks like Century 21 on Black Friday in there. I wish she were a little bigger so I could fit into one of her 200 pairs of designer jeans. | When I moved in, I discovered he kept one entire dresser drawer for just his cologne! It sounds like a car crash every time he opens it, but I let him keep that one. At least he always smells good. |
| On Sharing a Bathroom | She has ultimately turned my personal “manctuary” (which is all marble with a two-person jacuzzi) into a Sephora/Aveda Salon. 7 a.m.: I awake to the steaming shower running. 8:30 a.m.: I re-awake to the incessant noise of the blowdryer. 9 a.m.: I get up for my cold shower (as there is no hot water left in the 200 gallon tank) and she slips back in while I’m showering to re-blowdry a piece of frizzy hair. Boy, I can’t wait to see next month’s ConEd bill… | I used to participate in secret single girl behavior — spending hours in front of the mirror tweezing, squeezing and applying creams to ward off wrinkles and other blemishes. Now, if I’m in there longer than 10 minutes, I hear a knock on the door. He’s probably fighting for his mirror time, because he literally has three times the amount of products that I do. When I first saw the pink Mario Badescu drying lotion, I assumed it belonged to an ex-girlfriend — but no, it’s his. |
| On Cooking/Cleaning | I must admit she does both quite well; but so does Blanca, our housekeeper who comes every few weeks. I suppose she supplements Blanca’s efforts, but Rainbow does it for free and she doesn’t use as much Pledge. She’s also great at finding doublets for my mismatching socks. | He cooks, I clean. Although we both make an effort to cross over into each other’s realm, all attempts are futile. I know my place, he knows his. I do Windex. He does Chicken Francaise. |
| On Getting Frisky | She has a “frisky quota” that I have to meet; I believe it is predicated on a weekly basis, but I really don’t know — the actual number is ambiguous and not fully revealed to me. Let’s just say, when she wants, she gets. | I jokingly mentioned a “quota” we had to fulfill each week so that we’d never feel like roommates. And he’s taking it a little too seriously — I’m getting a bit spoiled here. |
Catch this couple next time, as they share their he said/she said thoughts on their first vacation together — which includes a very long road trip, picking up a new puppy on the way, meeting his parents and then finally retreating to the beach.
This article is sponsored by “Romantications” at Royal Palms; however, the article is independently produced by The Frisky and the opinions and views expressed by the writers are their own.
