I have a confession.  From being conspicuously single when Femmeiniste launched, I have rapidly progressed to being in a full-blown relationship. You’ve heard about The Man With The Hidden Talents before.  We have been “temporarily” cohabiting since July.  I can now say definitively that he is also The Man With The Hidden Weirdnesses, but as I am the owner of a stuffed Malaysian tapir, I am not in a position to throw stones.

I’ve actually been shocked at how easy and natural it was, and I can’t quite decide if it was easier or should have been harder because we had no actual intention of the living together lasting this long.  I’ve never lived with a guy before, and this is supposed to be a BIG DEAL.  So far?  There’s nothing easier.  It actually makes me a little suspicious. Isn’t this supposed to be hard?  I’m sure it’ll be more challenging if the temporary cohabitation becomes permanent, but for now it’s all hearts and flowers and caramel macchiatos in bed.  (Benefits of a guy who has to settle for street parking.)  I always imagined that moving in with a guy would mean putting up with a lot of annoying personal habits, but possibly I was just assuming that because The Ex had annoying personal habits.  I guess we’ll see.

The fact that a theoretical two weeks has extended into three months has finally brought home to me, however, the need to make room for the boy’s stuff.  Living out of a suitcase was okay for the first few weeks, but it began to seem a little inhospitable by the time we hit September.  I have cleared him two drawers and some closet space, but he owns stuff.  The same kind of stuff I own.  The stuff that is currently all over the place.

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