I lived on my own for a very long time. Self-sufficient, independent, didn’t need anyone. And then – in one genius move – I brought in a roommate about 9 months ago.
And it’s been HARD. I know I’m not the easiest person to live with (though, to be fair, I totally warned K. of this before she made a decision), and I think I underestimated how big an impact this would have on me.
Sure, I’ve had roommates before: one from a past life that ended when she started dating the guy I was was dating… while I was still dating him. Another who needed a place to stay while she divorced her husband. And a third that just needed a transition place while she saved money to move to a better, non-drug, non-gunfire kind of area.
None of these ended all that well. I know that some of it was me, some of it not me, but in the end — I’m the common denominator, I suppose. And so, while I desperately wanted K. to move in, there was a part of me that was incredibly reluctant because of the fear of ruining the friendship entirely.
But – as if the universe needed to prove me wrong – things have been working out really well, at least in the day-to-day living together kinds of things. I cook, she does dishes, we both walk the dog and each of us is adult enough to do the icky household stuff instead of pawning it off on the other person — fun stuff like taking the garbage out and unloading the dishwater. As a faux married couple who never leave the house, we’re a perfect match.
We’ve certainly had our ups and downs, though, and I can say that it’s mostly been because I had expectations going into this that didn’t match reality. I thought that her moving in would automatically make her my best friend instead of just my roommate and my pretend wife-with-no-benefits. Here’s a little foreshadowing: it didn’t.
Yes, we’re friends. Close friends, even. But only really within the confines of the house. Out in the real world, we’re two very different people — she’s more the party girl, going out all night, dancing on tables in bars. I’m more the early morning run type, go out for an early drink and movie, and maybe twice a year go on a bender where I come home when the sun’s coming up. So, we don’t socially mesh very well.
I’ve struggled with this, though. I really thought she’d be the one to kind of take me by the hand and show me the city gay life. But – that’s not to be. We had a long talk today (in the middle of my trainer session with her… have I mentioned that she gets to beat me up a few times a week?) and kind of sorted things out. I don’t know that I’m entirely happy with the outcome, but I get where she’s coming from. And as always, it’s better to have more information rather than guessing about it.
So, I’m on my own. But – very recently – light at the end of the dating tunnel. Which just might help this situation out. More later!