Yes, you read the title correctly, “The Move-in.” And yes, I did write a blog about cohabitation a few months ago that outlined the danger of moving in with a loved one. I have always been the one to give the ‘reality of moving in’ talk with my girlfriends that were excited about living with their boyfriends. But every person has to bend their rules some time and after months of discussion my boyfriend and I decided to make the ‘big move.’
Now I have to admit, I have been pretty giddy for the last few weeks when the plan of living together became a definite decision. The talk of getting my own key, having my washroom stuff at the apartment, and not having to pack a suitcase full of clothes every weekend was exciting for me. I also wouldn’t have to spend countless hours on the TTC traveling between both of our places. I would finally be going to bed and waking up every day with the man I love. But I had no idea how emotional the act of moving my stuff to his place would actually be.
My boyfriend knows that the idea of moving in is a little overwhelming for me, so we agreed on taking a month to slowly move my stuff over to his place. The first thing on the list to move was the wardrobe. I was really proud of myself when I packed up my closet. “Who are you talking to?” my boo would ask as I was apologizing to my clothes for packing them away. “I just have to assure my clothes that I still love them,” I would say as I gently placed my clothes into my suitcases.
Once we had gotten to my boyfriend’s place and started the integration of my possessions into his, I started to get a little anxious. The fact that I was actually moving in with him and not just talking about it started to hit me and I swear I was developing hives. I started to feel claustrophobic and every time he smiled at me I felt the walls closing in on me. Would I have to spend every second of my life with him now? Would I lose all my independence? Would I have to let someone take care of me? I quickly jumped in the shower to “rinse off” but really, I started to cry. I was scared that I was listening more to my heart than to my head. What if everything fell apart? What if I became soft and forgot how to properly take care of myself without him?
I jumped out of the shower after gaining my composure and walked into our newly cohabited room. He just looked at me and smiled, “Welcome home baby.” He held me tight in his arms and as I rested my head on his chest he kissed my forehead. I didn’t know what would happen to us now but I knew, deep down inside, I felt happy.