Strongly Worded

Light in the Kitchen Window

Before OM, no man has ever had keys to any place in which I have resided. I did not see the point; if OM, or any one of his predecessors, would like to enjoy my tasteful home decor and delight in my company, well, that could easily be arranged in advance. I did not like the idea of a guy being in my space when I wasn't there--not because he might be nosy or messy, but because it would mean ceding control about his whereabouts in regards to mine.

For practical reasons, OM introduced the idea of procuring my house key a long time ago, and I demurred and avoided the topic until one night, when a combination of poor planning, cell phone issues, and bad timing left him stranded in my neighborhood. He spent several hours waiting for me to let him into my apartment, and alternated between the 24-hour drugstore, the supermarket, and finally the subway station, where he eventually gave up and left.

After that night, I got him a key, and was stunned at how much easier life became. We no longer have to coordinate comings and goings and so precisely. If I go to the gym before dinner, for example, and get absorbed in a workout (or, let's be real, the latest edition of Oprah), I don't feel rushed, since I know he can let himself into my place. And if he wants to come over after a late night out without me, I need not get out of bed to unlock the door.

And most blissful? On several occasions I have come home to the loveliest and most heartwarming sight ever: an apartment in which the man I love is cooking dinner without having arranged this with me beforehand. This is something I fantasized about during the many, many years in which I was single and sad.

It is precisely this turn of events that has led me to completely re-think the whole cohabitation situation. For a very long time, the notion of a guy and his stuff in my space on a permanent basis filled me with a real sense of dismay (I always loved snuggling and bonding with prior boyfriends, but was also happy when they left at the end of the weekend, and I could reset my environment to my exact specifications). For ages, I wanted/longed/ached, to be in a partnership, but still shuddered at the thought of sleeping in the same room with someone for the rest of my life, and I wondered if I'd ever be able to not just tolerate but embrace a guy's possessions, tastes, and habits.

For various lease-and-real-estate-related reasons, OM and I were prompted to have cohabitation conversations in April, and I was all skittish and opposed to the notion of having him in my (wah! no longer my!) space 24/7. I have no delusions about the logistical and emotional complexities that go along with living together, and we decided to hold off for the time being, but now it's like the house key; I'm finding my feelings have changed. He has four kinds of cereal at my house, and I enjoyed finding matching canisters to store them in a manner befitting the decor concept of my kitchen. I like seeing his shoes next mine in the entryway (not so much his random piles of miscellanea, but that's another issue). Whenever he makes (polite, tentative) domestic suggestions, they fill me with joy. My mismatched, poorly organized tupperware "collection" made him nuts and we spent a blissful hour revamping it. It made me freakishly happy.

We discussed all this last night because we hadn't had an SRT (State of the Relationship Talk) in a while. I told him that sometimes, when I come home from work on days when we have not made evening plans, I strain to see from afar if maybe he has come over anyway, and if maybe when I walk in the door he will greet me from the kitchen where he is cooking dinner. I got all choked up when I described how this made me feel, because it made me realize how crazy I am for him and how profoundly--OM--and our relationship--has changed me.

Posted by Dori at 7:56 PM