Via @ Flickr.
Over 12 million unmarried partners live together in 6,008,007 households. - U.S. Census Bureau. “American Community Survey: 2005-2007.”
The number of cohabiting unmarried partners increased tenfold between 1960 and 2000. – U.S. Census Bureau. “America’s Families and Living Arrangements: 2000.”
55% of different-sex cohabiters do marry within five years of moving in together. 40% break up within that same time period. About 10% remain in an unmarried relationship for five years or more. – Smock, Pamela. 2000. “Cohabitation in the United States.” Annual Review of Sociology.
We’ve talked about all-women’s residences and the co-housing movement, but not the occasionally-fraught issue of living with our significant others. Thanks to feminism and the sexual revolution, living together before or without marriage these days hardly raises an eyebrow. In fact, most people co-habit at some point and most married couples live together first (a reality which unfortunately excludes those who still cannot legally marry their partners.)
I’ve never officially co-habited with a boyfriend, at least, not in the sense that both our names were on the lease. But I came close when I was with my Older Lover. He had a big brownstone and a child, so it made more sense for me to be at his place than for us all to go back and forth to my one-bedroom. In just a couple months, I had keys and a closet.
Almost as soon as this transpired, the pressure began. No one thought there was anything inappropriate about it, but friends, neighbors, family, all assumed that the toothbrush begat the closet begat the ring and so on.
I tended to shrug off the nosy questions by simply saying “I’m keeping my place for now.”
Where I got prickly was about comments on how I was “trading up”, since the Older Lover’s house was so much bigger and pricier than my place. Some of it was due to the time-honored sexist assumption that a bimbo younger woman is always trading up when she dates a sugar daddy older man. It definitely got under my skin; I owned my own very nice home and wasn’t just “playing house” so I could move to posher digs. Still, the living was easy; we never argued, happily split the cooking duties and only rarely had to work out housekeeping issues (like the fact that he insisted the lid of the toilet be lowered after each use. Not the seat, the lid. Something about seeing a toilet bowl–even a clean toilet bowl–skeeved him out).
I came to love that house and the home we created, even though I was only there about two-thirds of the time. When we broke up, it was more than a month before I came back to clear out my closet and return the keys. Moving out was so painful for me that my best beloved friend–who comments on this site as elibard–took charge: she drove me there and cleaned out my closet for me while I wandered around in a weepy, Klonopin-induced haze. Almost five years later, I don’t regret the breakup at all, but I do think often, and fondly, of that brownstone. Once or twice over the years I’ve driven by it and remembered Elizabeth Bennet’s wistful/rueful comment on viewing Pemberley after she rejected Mr. Darcy’s proposal: “Of all this might I have been mistress…”
Since then I’ve had a boyfriend shack up at my place temporarily–thanks to a long-distance relationship–and enjoyed it. My apartment is big enough that two people can easily co-exist without crowding each other. If a future Mr. BeckySharper came along, I’d happily let him move in. Not sure if I’d put his name on the deed, but that’s a whole separate issue.
I asked the other Harpies–some of whom have lived with significant others–to weigh in on co-habiting vs. living alone:
PhDork:
I loved living alone. As soon as I could afford it (jr. year of college), I got my own apartment. But about three years later, the Dude and I moved in together at the advisement of PapaDork, as a “sensible” decision: cost-sharing and safety. Anyway, we’d been dating a little over a year, very serious for about 6-7 months, and it wasn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it might be. We each had our own bedrooms, for our stuff and because we knew we’d want personal space, and although there were occasional spats over the fact that he didn’t know how to cook much beyond pasta, it was okay. It was fun. Most things with the Dude are fun.
There are still occasional frustrations, of course, and lord, I can’t actually watch him cook or clean because 1) he’s not efficient, which drives me fucking bonkers, and 2) if I say anything, like “you need to sift the flour before you measure it,” he goes fucking bonkers. So when he cooks, I just stay out of the kitchen. When I cook, he’s my sous-chef. We split up chore duties variously. He’s raised his cleaning standards, I’ve lowered mine (which were, thanks to my mom, rather absurdly high). We’ve also wrangled about what makes a home: his is where his stuff is (he can be a hoardy clutterbug), mine is where there’s order and a well-stocked pantry. (We agree on books and pets.) There was one summer when I was just studying for exams, and I got into the habit of making nice dinners, sort of as a complement to the brain-feeding I was doing, but it verrrry quickly became “my job,” which killed my pleasure doublequick.
I still need down time, and so, on those occasions when he’s gone for an afternoon or weekend, I very much enjoy it, but not because that means I can finally wear my crappy, saggy-ass pjs and eat fistfuls of cereal out of the box (I do that anyway), but just for the silence and solitude. He’s my favorite person in the world, bar none, and I think we’re very well-suited for each other, but I still just need to be alone to recharge my batteries.
At this point, if (maude forbid) the Dude were to be abducted by aliens, I’d probably live alone, if I could afford it. I think it would be very difficult to find someone else who I got along with as well as the Dude.
sarah.of.a.lesser.god:
I’ve only co-habited romantically once, with my former girlfriend Jen. Jen and I met our freshman year of college and ended up living together for two semesters, interrupted by summer break. For whatever reason, I was far more comfortable living with her than I was with even the notion of living with my ex-fiance (who I’ll dub M). M always lived in a separate place. Now, this comfort level with Jen versus that of my comfort level with M may be because of the fact that M turned out, in the end, to be a really bad match for me. It could be because I was more comfortable with the idea of living with a female partner instead of a male one, especially given that Jen and I attended a women’s college and the notion of spending all my time with other women, in situations romantic and platonic, felt natural.
Of course, living with a girlfriend in a dorm room is different than it would be if I was to share a non-college space with a partner now; issues of rent and cable/electric/heating bills were nonexistent, we couldn’t cook anything other than ramen noodles, there was no real division of chores, etc.
I tend to self-isolate, so the prospect of living with someone has always frightened me a bit. Even if the most amazing, compassionate, funny, dedicated partner in the world came along, I would still be hesitant to share that physical space with them. Although, if I got past it with Jen and had a lovely experience, maybe I should give myself a bit more credit and realize that a part of me is perfectly happy to cohabit if the circumstances are right.
Pilgrim Soul:
I lived with my undergrad boyfriend for two and a half years. We were terribly young when we moved in together – 21. We were both stubborn as mules and fought about every little domestic thing – what cupboard the plates should go in, what constituted an appropriate dinner (he was still eating Chef Boyardee), why were the Transfuckingformers in the goddamn living fucking room, etc. But we also, I think, until about two years in, rather enjoyed it, once we settled into respecting each other’s need for space and quiet. There’s something to be said for always having someone around to rent movies with.
But it’s been so long since we broke up now that I have a hard time imagining doing it again, at least, in such close quarters. I am growing old and eccentric; the yelling children in my building bother me, and I enjoy reading for long stretches of time. I find it impossible to write while others are around. The cat can continue to live here, because she asks so little of me.
What are your views on romantic co-habiting? Is it a step on the road to something permanent? Or an end in itself? Did you love it? Hate it? Anything you learned that might be useful to the rest of us?
I live with my partner. I have lived with one previous partner, and also alone. I absolutely adored living alone; the only thing I like better is living with M. We’ve both chosen careers that require a lot of study time; she likes cleaning and I like cooking. Having a cat is also great, because he wanders back and forth between us while we’re studying. We joke about attaching messages to him.
Living alone was fantastic, but it did allow my disordered habits (of eating, of thinking) to grow unchecked.
The previous partner-cohabiting experience was a disaster. He was an extrovert from SoCal; I’m an introvert from NYC, and I’m sure the fact that we were horribly broke didn’t help.
I have never lived with a romantic partner – hell, I’ve barely even lived with roommates. I was an RA as an undergrad, so I had a single dorm room for three years of college, minus the study abroad semester during which I shared a triple room. Living in a dorm meant sharing bathrooms and stuff, but I had my own, lockable bedroom. Since then I’ve lived in a series of apartments, starting with a tiny efficiency in DC, on up to my current 2 bedroom. I actually was going to buy a house last summer, before the inspection revealed cracks in the foundation. What I learned at that time, though, is that people are really weird about women buying houses on their own. I have a boyfriend of 2 and a half years. We haven’t discussed moving in together, except in the abstract (he has a young daughter, so I feel we should only move in together if we’re going to make it permanent, for the sake of stability for his daughter and for me). When I began sniffing around the idea of buying a house on my own, people suddenly were asking if I would be buying it with him, or if this meant I had no interest in living with him. Some dude friends of mine have bought houses, and people seemed to suggest this made them a better prospect for a serious relationship, being financially stable homeowners and all. But the implication I encountered was that a woman buying a place on her own suggested that she was not interested in marriage, or else she would be buying it with her partner.
I admit that this rhetoric eventually began to affect me, to the point that I wondered whether my boyfriend’s support of my homebuying attempts really meant he wasn’t interested in future commitment. He was essentially supportive, but didn’t go looking at houses with me, since it wasn’t his money on the line.
Of course, when I moved into my current apt, I encountered the same questions, as I signed my new lease and he renewed the lease on his current place in the same month. I fully realize that if I revisit homebuying this spring, people will once again assume that it means I have no intention of ever living with or marrying him (again, things we have discussed only in the abstract). I just have to keep reminding myself that what other people think shouldn’t matter.
In sum – people need to mind their own beeswax.
This is timely because I just moved in with the BF the weekend before thanksgiving. I’ve never lived with someone before either (because I really enjoy my space) so I was a weird combination of excited and panicked. He owns his place and I have been renting so I moved in with him but we’ve spent the last year renovating his place in preparation because it was a bit of an, a-hem, shithole? previously. Anyway the week leading up to it I kept picking ridiculous fights over bizarre political issues and such. Then the night before I was like, “sorry I’m being so crazy and unpleasant I’m just really stressed.” and he was like, “I know I just wish I didn’t feel like our entire relationship was hanging on my opinion of Nabokov (latest ridiculous fight)”
So far so good, the only weird thing is being together at home and doing separate things for hours at a time. It’s not bad, just odd for now. And our cats seem to be getting along reasonably well…
@Flackette: Totally agree with you about the double standards regarding homeownership. I bought my apartment when I was 27, and there were definitely people who felt that it was tantamount to a declaration of permanent spinsterhood, I’m giving up on life and going to grow old and die in a one-bedroom! Bring me a whole bunch of cats so I can get started! I was apparently supposed to hold off on all real estate deals–even the smart ones that made me financial stable–until I found a big strong man to take care of me.
Well, fuck ‘em. I love my place, it’s now worth triple what I paid for it, and the busybodies can suck it.
I’m moving in with my bf next fall, and good Dog, I’m so freaking excited. I currently live with my little sister (read: slob) who forgets to turn the oven off and has lost 3 travel mugs already.
my family is southern and traditional, though, and even though *I* don’t see our future romantic co-habitation as a fast-track to marriage, they do, and lately I’ve had quite a few thoughts involving STFU every time we visit. I know it doesn’t REALLY matter what they think in the end, but they are all too happy to project their feelings about the entire matter quite vocally, and that really fucking bothers me.
So far, I have lived with my boyfriend twice — last academic year, he basically moved into my dorm room (his was in the next building over and was a lot smaller, so we used it for storing things) and this past summer we sublet an apartment together. It was sooooo awesome. The apartment was cute and little — a very good “training” apartment. Now he has an apartment 5 minutes from campus (he graduated last May) and I have a dorm room and we split our time. But I miss living together a lot, especially cooking dinner every night (I cooked, he washed dishes). Hopefully we’ll be able to go to the same grad school and live together again…(the possibility that we won’t both get in somewhere we both want to go is a major source of stress in my life right now.)
My therapist once asked me if my s.o. asking me to move in together would make me happy, and at the time I hesitated and said it probably wouldn’t. However, upon further reflection, I believe it would because it represents a new “phase” in our relationship. It’s really hard when you’re with someone who can’t really think about the future in the same way you do (ie: I think about cohabitating and perhaps future permanent commitment, he doesn’t), but I’m just trying to enjoy what we have at the moment. Trying really, really hard. lol.
And he practically lives with me (and my roommate – one of his former roomies) in our 2br because his place is such a slumlord establishment.
I know of a lot of couples who have (in my opinion) rushed into living together and I just can’t imagine putting myself in the situation where someone who is not legally obligated to you is on the lease and can leave at any second, leaving you stranded with the full rent and a broken heart. I’m also 23 and I figure I have plenty of time to live with an s.o., but I know people my age who’ve been living together for years already and they’re seemingly fine.
In short, I guess I have no real answer about this!
I lived with a BF once in the home that I currently own. It was fine but we eventually didn’t work out (obviously). I am now a confirmed bachelorette (I think)bc like PS, I am growing old and eccentric and the only one who I can seem to put up with is Kitty. LOL. I like men and friends/family for short bursts of time only.
My husband is the only SO I’ve lived with, and we moved in together after about six months of dating. It was a practical decision at the time – we both had tiny grad school salary apartments and I wanted a house and a yard and a dog and we were spending every night together anyway.
That said, we were both very aware that this was a step on the way to marriage (although I never would have given my grandmother the satisfaction of admitting it when she worried about living in sin). He proposed after about six more months, and we married a year after that.
The most important thing about moving in together was that I handled it terribly. I’m a ridiculously independent person, and I got seriously scared. I was a complete bitch and terribly overcritical, picking fights over everything for at least three months. I’m amazed he didn’t leave me. I got over it, but I could have seriously damaged us, and maybe my reaction wouldn’t have happened if I’d thought about what moving in meant more before I actually did it.
We’ve been married more than six years now, and have a kid who’s almost three. I quit work when the baby was born, and I expected that to change the household balance of power, but it really didn’t. I do all of the daytime childcare, obviously. I always did all the laundry, and he always did 80% of the cleaning. I used to cook about 75% of the time, and now it’s more like 95%, but since I love to cook, that doesn’t bother me, and since I can start dinner while the kid naps, it does make sense.
I can’t say it’s always easy, even now, and, like PhDork, I can’t imagine living with anyone else, but it works for us.
I had roommates all through college and apartment-mates since moving to NYC. Mostly peaceable, a few disasters. I learned that when living with close friends it can be difficult to bring up cleanliness issues, so I’ve (I hope) developed a very matter-of-fact tone when I finally do have to address something.
I lived with my ex for a summer in a total pig sty of a cottage. My mom was horribly ashamed of me and told me “People still say things about girls who shack up,” which wasn’t super helpful in getting me to spend more time at home with her… I loved it because we were young and in love and just wanted a space to be together 24/7 since we were long distance during the school year. (Which wouldn’t be healthy in a grown-up relationship, I don’t think)
I haven’t been in relationships that have evolved to that point since, but I’ve developed a much stronger love of having my own space. I think my favorite model of cohabitation was Katherine Cornell (actress from back in the day) and her playwright/director husband, Guthrie McClintock. They bought a three story town house; his bedroom was on the top floor, hers was on the second, and they shared a parlor/kitchen on the ground floor.
I’ve been living with my BF (of 6 yrs) since I graduated college. At first we lived in a big apartment with three other friends, and now we live alone. I love it. We split the domestic duties quite nicely, and it’s great having someone around who’s company I enjoy so thoroughly. We’re also quite good at giving each other alone time.
We are, now, trying to navigate the television. He loves it, and defaults to turning it on at all time. I hate getting relegated to the bedroom because he wants to watch tv, but want to be respectful of his enjoyment. It’s tricky, but I think we’ll work it out.
Any one else had to navigate the t.v. usage?
Being divorced and having my 3 kids around is very serious to me, and I would not have a boyfriend, even a “serious” one move in with us. I wouldn’t see the point, and I have seen terrible situations happen because friends and some family members rush in to this step. I have yet to be tested on this in reality though, since there is no one “serious,” but I definitely look at things differently now. I’m not saying I don’t deserve to be happy and have adult relationships ( I do, they are separate from the kids), but ya know, the kiddies kinda come first in my life.
@thelady: Agreed. Children put a whole different spin on romantic co-habitation.
If I had to go back and do things over, I would not have been so quick to move my stuff into my ex’s house until I knew we were getting married. It was not good for his daughter to bond with me, get used to sharing a home with me (part time), and then have me disappear. Unfortunately my ex has repeated this pattern with at least two other women since we split up.
His daughter’s mother, who I’m still in touch with, reports–albeit with bias–that this has not been good for the child’s emotional well-being. If I was a single mom, I would be VERY careful about letting anyone co-habit with my family.
I’ve never lived alone! And I guess I won’t unless Mr. FF kicks it! Crazy I hadn’t even really thought of that til now.
I lived with roommates in college, and then spent weekends at hub’s place, which was 100 miles from where I went to school, with his 2 roommates. I often felt like I was sort of dating all three of them, but we all had good times. When hubs and I got married, the two roommates moved out. Sorta. Because the house was a one-room house owned by a church where they all lived for free in exchange for being handy types and dealing with homeless folks, so the two roommates just moved across the parking lot into the church basement, and I moved into the tiny house. Lots of people thought it was crazy to live in such a tiny space together, but it was the perfect little love nest for two married students.
I guess since I’ve never lived alone, I don’t know what it’s like, but I like having roommates/housemates/spouse living with me. I’m extremely extroverted and get weird without someone to talk to.
@rainy_day: Mr MM is a tv junkie and I find it grating 95% of the time. I have no problem hanging out somewhere else in the house, though, because I figure it’s better than having a tv in the bedroom.
I’ve, um, never lived with a SO, and considering some of the past ones, this is probably just as well.
I’ve lived alone at least part of the year nearly continuously since my junior year of college. My sophomore year was a misery thanks to my backstabbing roommate (her method of dealing with roommate issues was talking to the Head of Residential Life about it. Before mentioning anything to me) and after that I clawed and fought to get single dorm rooms. A lot less space, yes. Also a lot less drama.
I’d probably consider living with someone now; I probably would have even been okay with it once I got out of college, but the opportunity hasn’t presented itself. The one or two relationships I’ve had since school have never gotten serious enough to think about that step and even now, considering those relationships, I’m not sure it would have worked out well.
Frankly, I wouldn’t mind splitting rent and food bills and having someone to help clean up the apartment, but those things could be solved with a roommate as much as by a live-in SO.
@Flackette, BeckySharper: I also found humor in “Misscalculate, UNMARRIED” that was stamped over every document I signed upon the purchase of my home. From a legal standpoint I understand why but it did make me chuckle.
As an aside – the government typically counts people who spend three or more nights a week together as cohabitants whether you each still have your own place or not.
And, BeckySharper, to go back to a topic similar to prenups, I think that everyone who moves in together should have a break up plan of the form of who moves out, where they go, and how to divide shared things. The heated moments of a break-up are not the time to decide those things. Having a some money set aside for a separate residence would be good, too.
@misscalculate: Oh wow–which state was that? I don’t recall seeing it on any of the documents I signed, but it definitely would have given me pause! I guess the would put it on single dudes’ paperwork as well, though.
I think the breakup plan sounds like an excellent idea and frankly, even if you didn’t want to tell your partner about it, I think everyone should have an exit strategy planned out. I’ve had way too many friends wind up on my sofa because their relationships ended and they hadn’t thought about just the issues you mention. In about 95% of these cases, the relationships had been on the rocks for some time, so it wasn’t like it was a huge surprise to either party, and yet no one had thought about the practicalities. Living in NYC, where housing/moving is very expensive, made it that much worse.
I’ve lived with my partner for a year and a half, and we’re getting married next year. I never thought of myself as the type to cohabitate or marry, but with him, it works. We have a great time.
@BeckySharper: It’s my understanding that it’s wise to put the lid down before flushing because the toilet sprays, well, toilet germs all over the place while flushing. That may be a myth; take it or what you will.
@Jess: Yep, I’ve heard that. But the lid needed to be down ALL THE TIME, for aesthetic reasons. Or maybe he was afraid the toilet germs would jump out of the toilet and attack him as he showered or something.
I’ve never lived alone. It seems like the kind of thing you should experience, if you have the $. I can be kind of solitary though, so living alone probably wouldn’t be good for me.
My grandmother approved of me living in sin. She advocates testing the waters before marrying. I can tell you that a 250 sq foot fifth-floor walk-up is a great way to test a relationship. And test it and test it.
I’d be interested to see how much housing prices affect folks’ propensity to move in together–anecdotally, it sure seemed to be a big inducement in NYC. Hard to do a really good study on it, I suppose, with all the confounding variables.
@x.trapnel: I totally agree. I certainly know a lot of couples in NYC for whom the financial incentive was a huge part of why they moved in together. It wasn’t the only reason, mind you, but it probably wouldn’t have happened if they’d had unlimited funds. And the flipside: I know many couples who would have broken up a lot earlier if they’d maintained separate homes or the cash to move out immediately.
Between family, roommates, and SO’s, I’ve never not lived with someone. I was 24 before I even had a bedroom of my own! Now I’ve been living with the same SO for 15 years and we keep separate bedrooms because I don’t want to give up having my own space (even though usually we both sleep in my room). We’ve gone through spells of sleeping separately though – and if family comes to stay, my room becomes the guest room and we double up in his.
But I keep getting told that separate rooms are weird, unless you’re ancient. PhDork, I’m so pleased to hear you do the same.
@BeckySharper – I would do that for you any time, anywhere 8> {{hugs}}. You were both gloriously present in your pain and incredibly clear about why it was necessary, which I’ve never seen anyone else be during a break-up.
And as for missing the place, I’m with you. Often I find I miss more freely the apartment/house/whatever location I’ve left for good than the people associated with it. For me, the edifice often provokes more pleasant & cozy associations, even if memories of the relationship are more fraught.
I’ve lived with people for most of my adult life. In college, I had a roommate frosh year but not after that. However, on moving to NYC, I had a roommate for each of my first two years (different roomies) because I was just so danged poor, and then moved into a great apartment with three women, one of whom was already a good friend from college, and the other two became lifelong friends, too. I was lucky enough to live with them and two cats in a four-bedroom apartment for four years. Stayed with them through several relationships that were never quite good enough to warrant moving in together. (One of them almost went there, and then blessedly didn’t. My reluctance to move in was a very clear sign.) With my roommates, we finally devised a system for cleaning in which we all contributed money toward a cleaning fund every month. That way, anyone who cleaned could take the money – or we could hire a cleaning lady instead. Usually one of us ended up cleaning and taking the money. But it worked out really well and got rid of all the squabbles about standards of cleanliness.
Then when I met my now-husband, we stayed in separate apartments for quite a while. I didn’t want to move in without assurances that this really was headed toward marriage. After my parents’ extremely bitter divorce, I was in no hurry to mix households and finances with an SO. In fact, we lived apart long enough (1.5 years?) that his never-interfering parents were about to have a talk with him. The very dinner we all had when we told them we had found an apartment together was the one where his dad had been warming up to tell Kyle to get a move on or he was going to lose me.
(Of course, I was the one to find the apartment. But we’d already discussed our timeline for living together, getting engaged, getting married, etc.)
I had expected living with my fiance to be just like living with roommates. But I was surprised and shocked to find that it was completely different. With my roommates, we had shared so much, but there was a very clear definition of space into “mine” (my closet-sized room), and “communal,” everything else. So all of a sudden, with my fiance, EVERYTHING was mine AND his (in terms of space – we still did and do separate some personal effects). It was marvelously freeing to know I could wander naked anywhere I wanted in the apartment. The whole space was ours, together. It seemed so vast.
We still squabble over stuff and space, cleaning, and most recently, how many weeks a year to have family guests. But I love living with him. And it’s still better than living with roommates, and by and large, better than living alone.
We have to keep the toilet lid closed. Milkshake the Cat likes to drink toilet water, and step in the toilet bowl then walk around the house, getting toilet water everywhere. This is gross.
I live with my SO now, and it’s been far better than I ever imagined. I never wanted to cohabitate. I was good living with friends, but I thought that mixing living with romance would lead to disaster, and so did my partner. Actually he was far more against it than I was. But then my roommate moved out, and I am poor, and was going to have to move to a sketchy apartment and leave my awesome gorgeous ridiculously cheap one. And we had planned to attempt going to grad school in similar locations next year. So I was all, “Um if we both go to Chicago next year, do you think we’ll live together? Because if we are, then we need to do a trial run first. I don’t want to potentially rearrange my plans to live with you, move to a new city where I know almost nobody, move in with you, find out we need to break up because we hate living together, and then have to find a new place in a new city at a new school ALL ALONE.” So we’re trying it out now.
Basically within a month of living together we just decided that we’re probably going to spend the rest of our lives together. Not married–neither of us wants to get married–but it’s pretty permanent. Even my dog gets along with his cats. I can’t tell you how shocked all this makes me–I never thought I’d fall in love with a man, let alone live with one. But we’re just crazy compatible.
I am cleaner than he is, and when we moved in I told him that I’ve read studies that say that when hetero couples move in together, the onus of housework slowly shifts to the female half without anyone realizing it, and I wasn’t about to be his mother. He told me that just because he has lower standards of cleanliness than I do, it’s no reason for him to not clean because that’s not fair since it’s likely that I, as a woman, was socialized to more strongly associate the appearance of my home with my social acceptance and personal feelings of accomplishment, while he was socialized to not care as much because his mom would eventually clean up after him. And I was like, “…um. Yes. Exactly. Damn.” So we divided up chores (he does floors and putting clutter away and takes out the garbage, I do the bathroom and kitchen and germs) and even though neither of us actually stay on top of this, when we have cleaning blitzes we both do equal amounts of work.
He is good because he makes sure I eat more than cheerios for dinner every night, and he makes delicious food for me to eat! Like risotto! And I bring him his antidepressants every morning and feed his cats. When we moved in together we got a joint checking account to make it easier to buy groceries and pay for dinner when we go out. We’d been splitting everything (since out first date, on which I paid) which was a pain in the ass. I think the biggest and scariest thing for women who move in with men is the financial dependency that can accrue. He is in charge of paying all the bills, which makes me slightly uncomfortable theoretically because even though I am paying for half of everything, he tells me when to write out the check to the gas company or whatever. I don’t like falling into such gendered roles–he “pays the bills” while I feed the animals. But I also really suck at paying bills on time, and he’s good at it, and I asked him to be in charge so I don’t have to stress and be weird and take on my parents’ weird poor-people habits of ignoring bills until they shut off the electricity.
Sometimes I feel crazy because even though we’ve been dating for 3 years, it’s like we’re still in the honeymoon phase. And I feel like when I start to talk about him I just go on and on because I’m in love with him. So, sorry if this got weird and man-obsessed or boring.
My boyfriend and I have lived together over 10 years. I call him my husband, but we’re not legally married. Because my daughter has disabilities we couldn’t financially get married (they would count his income against her and she’s lose her medical care). We’ve planned to get married some day, but really, why? We are committed to each other and to “our” daughter (he’s been in her life since she was 2). Why do we need a legal status to make it real?
terena, in a word, you don’t. I’m working on a post about being permanently unmarried for later this week.
@PhDork: I’m really interested to read that! I found this thread to be really helpful so I’m looking forward to a permanently unmarried one
I’ve lived with two SO’s and each time, it’s been a disaster. This last time was especially bad, since we had signed the lease together, and within three months of that, we were fighting and he was showing signs of getting violent. Currently, I’m sharing the same apartment with a fantastic roommate, a Turkish woman who I shall call E. She loves my cats, is quiet, clean, pays her bills on time, and is fun to talk and listen to. I’m going to be heartbroken when she goes back to Turkey in June, and I’m left to hunt out another roommate. I certainly will not consider moving in with another SO any time soon, and will be quite content with roommates for a while.
The only times I’ve lived alone were interesting. The very first apartment I had was a teeny garage-converted-studio that I loved fiercely. The landlady let me steal her cat and dog when I felt lonely, she had strict rules for behavior(no boys overnight,drinking, etc) which kept my 19-20 yr old idiotic self in check, the walls were the same shade green as the ones in my bedroom at home, and it was ridiculously cheap. I was there for over a year, and hated to move, but she sold the house.
The second time I was subletting a apartment from a friend who went to bootcamp, after a roommate at a previous place tried to rape me. I was very anti-social, very traumatized, and quickly got very, very strange. Once the friend flunked out of boot and returned, it helped return me to normal, and move on from the experience.
I’ve realized that I generally do better living with someone than without, since then I can’t fall into my hermetic, odd, borderline cat lady with all the books ways. It also helps me remember what to eat and when, because without an external prompting, I forget meals and more complicated nutrition, sustaining myself on salad, bagels, and peanut butter spoons.
yes please do a piece on permanently unmarrieds! I’ve been with Mr NY for over 6 years, he moved into my place a few months after we met and then we got another place together a year later. It’s been wonderful, mostly because he’s so damn upbeat and able to roll with anything, a nice counterpoint to my depressive tendencies.It helps that he is great with helping our with chores,etc. I do most food shopping and cooking only because I’m better at it.Everything else we share. As happy as I am with him, I’m still really glad that I lived alone for 2 years before we met. It gave me the time I needed on a lot of levels. Several years later, we are engaged (for 3 years already!) and honestly I’m happy with that.I really don’t feel a need to get married- we are committed to each other completely, what do we need a piece of paper to prove it for? At first I was excited to plan a wedding but life has gotten in the way- he’s been unemployed,I want to go back to school- who has money for a wedding?At some point I just stopped caring about making it “official” and learned to just enjoy our life together. and for the record, my family doesn’t hassle me about getting married anymore.they’re pretty cool like that.
I’ve never lived alone… I moved in with my boyfriend (sort of gradually, mostly because I found living with my parents intolerable) in my first year of college. We’ve been living together at least 3 years now. We’re not married, and we’re OK with that. It’s pretty good usually. We’re both messy so there’s the occasional housekeeping-related argument, but we’ve got a pretty awesome place and two kitties, and we’re happy.
I’ve done all of the above – lived with roommates, housemates, SOs, SOs and housemates, and alone (though only three times, for a total of ~1 year). I shared rooms w/ non-SOs in undergrad (at my university we were required to live in the dorms freshman and sophomore years). I also shared a tiny bunkroom for a year while in a residential AmeriCorps program after graduation. Worse, I still have to share a room with 1-2 women and/or men (usually in their early 20s, while I’m 37!) at the field stations I work at while doing my PhD research (~2 years total in the last 4.5 years). I’m a private person who really likes my space, so I really dislike sharing a room with a non-SO – I’d avoid it if I could, but unfortunately I’ll have to deal with it again for ~3 months next year while I finish my work.
But I really don’t mind living with either housemates or SOs, for the most part. I tend to be a solitary person, so I find I do better having someone else around – it helps me get out of my head. While none of the relationships with SOs I’ve lived with (5 so far) have worked out, the living experiences were mostly good. With two notable exceptions – once when I was stuck in a lease with an ex who become petty and borderline violent, and once when I felt trapped after moving to a place I despised to be with someone who, I quickly realized, wasn’t right for me. But I’ve had some crazy roommates (one who had a very sheddy dog and didn’t clean for >1 year!), and with the exception of the current roommate, who’s great, I’ve generally preferred living with SOs.
@BeckySharper North Carolina (you knew it had to be the South). I assume unmarried men would have it also. And it does amaze me that the logistics and finances of break-up after a move-in seem to shock so many people. I suppose the emotional state gives you a sort of tunnel vision about life. Thus why coming up with the plan in an unemotional state is key.
@LMN I, too, have found that the disposition of a romantic partner is very important to my emotional well-being. I suppose I’m easily affected by the other person’s emotions. Being with someone who is stable and generally happy is key for me.
Misscalculate, lots of states do it. It has to do with property rights. In Oregon, when you’re married, it’s automatically “Joe Schmoe and Sally Schmuck, as tenants in common”, which essentially means that if one of the spouses dies, the house automatically reverts to the survivor without being subject to probate, inheritance taxes, or other complicated stuff. You can use other language, but it’s more steps. A single person is identified as a single man or woman to indicate that there’s no other person who has claim to the property, and it therefore becomes part of their estate automatically when they die.
I’m sure I could have used better, more legal language to explain that, but that’s the gist.
@Av0gadro, Thanks for the explanation! I figured it was something along those lines but that’s good to know. No legal language needed
Delurking for the first time!
I’ve never lived alone – would have liked to, but it’s never been financially possible. The first time I cohabited, I started dating someone in the student house I was sharing (10 strangers! One kitchen! Hijinks!). We moved out into a three-person house, where we stayed for the last two years of my degree. I learned a lot about sharing and commitment – and having an escape plan, when he told me he’d fallen in love with someone else 2 weeks after we signed on for the next 12 months.
This time round, I was moving from one country to another to be with my partner. We’d spent over a year together-but-leasing-seperate rooms and another year+ doing international long distance so I was confident about the relationship but we still had a lot to talk about – I didn’t have a job in the UK lined up and as a result we had to put down six months rent up front, most of which had to come from him etc etc. We wrote a ‘Living Together Agreement’ using this ( http://www.advicenow.org.uk/living-together/moving-in/living-together-agreements-html,280,FP.html ) as a base, and I think it opened the door to talking about things like – where will we be in 10 years, financial goals, importance of marriage, etc.
It’s three years later, we’re in our third flat (bloody landlords) and still happy. We’ll probably get married before we have kids, buy a house or move abroad, maybe in five years. We have a joint account (always running on fumes at the end of the month) and seperate savings (escape plan!).
I think division of chores is important and there are a lot of assumptions we had to talk through. We started out trying to split everything, but discovered we work better with ‘zones’ – I do occasional (bills, birthdays, visitors…) and laundry, he does daily (cooking, taking the rubbish out, shopping..) and we both do a mad scramble when visitors are on the way!
I feel that now we’re working towards a common goal whereas with roommates it often felt like we were all pulling in different directions.
Really enjoy the blog – hope this long ramble’s OK!
Thanks for that link, Elizabeth! It’s very helpful and I’m going to save it for future reference. And happy to have you join the discussion!
I had one roommate when I was 18 but she turned out to have a heroin problem so I moved into my own place and was there about a year. When I was 19, I became pregnant with my daughter and the Unhusband(we’d been together about 5 years at that point) insisted I live with him (mother of my child thing). I have to admit I didn’t really want to move in with him, but wasn’t yet mature enough to realize I didn’t have to. I was pregnant and if I wasn’t going to get married, I thought I should move in. We had some difficulties and I lived alone with our daughter for about a year (I think I was about 21 then). So we’ve been together about 24 years or so and have lived together for about 15 1/2 of those years.
We are at a funny stage in our relationship now. We are about to be empty nesters and I have some career goals I am working on that will necessitate me leaving the city we’re in if not the state. It’s hard to say where we’ll go from here, I’m not entirely sure we will continue living together. I will say that I will never live with someone again in my life.
I pretty much hate the idea of living alone. In undergrad, I had the same roommate for all four years. It’s been the best and most successful “living together” relationship I’ve ever had. I like to attribute it to the fact that our messes collected in complimentary ways.
I’m living with my current bf right now. I joined a housing co-op because I hate living alone (although I rented my own room for sanity purposes). After a year of living alone in a crowd, I met my bf and I more or less moved into his room after the first week of dating. Shocking and radical, I know. I was shocked because a)it felt weirdly natural and b) I wasn’t stressing about it.
I come from a religious family who strongly disproves of ‘living in sin’– so the fact that when I searched myself and decided that I was totally cool with this crazy crazy move, I went with it. And five months later, we’re still going strong. Despite sharing what is essentially a single large room, I’ve never felt too crowded, at all stifled, or overwhelmed with the need to flee.
We clean together, we give each other private time (reading together side by side or otherwise). I don’t do his laundry and he doesn’t do mine. We eat in the common dining room and sometimes we go out.
I still pay (and retain my room) at the current time. I hold onto it not only in case we break-up, but I like knowing I have some place to retreat to that’s all mine. This may change in the next six months. That’s okay.
I’m young. Maybe I’m a *little* crazy. But I think I’m being at least a little smart about it.