About a month and a half ago, my girlfriend and I were out on a date night. We had already indulged ourselves in some afternoon drinks on Rainey Street before heading over to Flemings for a nice dinner, so Daddy was feeling pretty loose. While I was fork deep in my steak, I was met with a question, “What are your thoughts on moving in together?” Now, being the jokester that I am, I half-heartedly said “that’s a great idea!” Now, I’ve hustled many of poker tables in my day. By me saying this, I had just pushed more chips in the pot to see the river. I am pot committed. I’ve already put enough time and money into my hand that I have to see how it plays out at this point.
When I first mentioned it to my boys, I took a lot of shit. And I mean a lot of shit. No one likes seeing one of their own submit to the fully committed relationship. But there comes a point in every man’s life where he must settle down and retire his full on bachelor habits. How would I handle it? Would I ever see a social life again? Do they just go ahead and start planning my funeral now? Surprisingly, none of the above are reasonable answers. You know what? I couldn’t be happier with my decision.
A few weekends ago, as I moved all my stuff into a cozy apartment up in North Austin, I sat back and enjoyed the moment. Things were neat and tidy. The bedroom looked good. If you know me, then you know that my bachelor days would have the walls about as bare as a wild Mustang running in the wind. Now there’s some life in the room that I wake up in every morning. For those wondering, no it’s not a bunch of letters hanging from ribbon. It’s all stuff that I don’t mind seeing on a daily basis. We’ve got plants for fuck’s sake! Do I water it? Is it fake? I’m not going to touch it of course.
Things are nice and clean when I get home. I no longer have to wash dirty dishes that have been sitting in the sink for multiple days that roommates would leave out. The counters aren’t filled with random empty beer boxes, trash, mail, or just about anything else you can store on a counter. Instead, I’ve got space to cook, candles, and even a goddamn candy jar full of all my favorite goodies. I don’t always come home to a nice meal already cooked, but that doesn’t bother me because it allows me to bring out my inner Bobby Flay and fire up some dinner that blows the pants off her.
Oh, did I mention that you can have sex anywhere? Forget being confined to only a bedroom while your roommates are just outside watching some Netflix. Kitchen counter? Go for it, champ. Dining room table? Just make sure to clean it before your next meal. Pressed up against an open window in the living room? Hey, you earned it. The whole space is y’alls to enjoy.
But I think the biggest thing of all is that I now have motivation to work out. See, my girlfriend wakes up at the ass crack of dawn at 5 o’clock every morning to get ready for work. This is typically two and half hours before I would wake up to get to work. Now, though, I’m waking up when she gets up because I can never go back to sleep after I’m up the first time. What have I done with my spare time? I enjoy a nice light breakfast, fiddle around for a bit, and then hit the gym. My sex life couldn’t thank me more for this.
It’s a lifestyle I choose to live, and I think made the right choice. Did I die and go to heaven? That is a thought I ponder every day as I wake up to her alarm clock ringing about an hour before I have to get up. Living with your girl ain’t so bad after all..