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I’ve sold my soul.
No, not to my girlfriend. To a leasing company that has no regard for human emotions. For the first time in my life, my name is legally attached to a piece of land (or, in my case, a tiny box that’s stacked between a bunch of other tiny boxes). The only savior is that, also for the first time, my name is signed on top of another name. You guessed it, it’s my girlfriend’s name.
Yep. Took the leap. Not the leap everyone wanted (you know, marriage), but the leap that’ll put us to the test (you know, moving in together). While I thought it was going to be all scented candles and homecooked meals (it is), there are also some other complai— er, observations I’ve noticed. Let’s explore.
Our apartment is an obstacle course.
Living in an apartment with a dog and girlfriend is like navigating the final temple run in Legends of the Hidden Temple — booby traps just set everywhere. The main issue? Drawers. All the drawers. Drawers everywhere. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice this sooner, but she just doesn’t consider it necessary to close drawers once they’re open. Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom — nowhere is safe.
But it doesn’t end there. One moment I’m slamming or stepping over drawers, the next I’m hurling myself over dog toys that somehow went from Point A to Point B while I blinked. Pots, pans, and dishes? Still haven’t adapted to their new locations. My laundry? Mixed with hers — sorting our socks is more difficult than the spelling bee on The Challenge.
There’s a difference between “organized” and “clean.”
Organized, by definition, means that “all your shit is where your shit is supposed to be.” Clean, by definition, means “shit is spotless.” Often times, these two intersect. But not when you live together as a couple.
You know, I thought our closet was big. Was it big enough? No, nothing ever will be. But once I got all my clothes in there, I thought to myself, “Oh man, we’re good, look at how much room is left.” Then she unpacked her box of clothes. Then another. Then another. And another. Before I knew it, it was like a goddamn rainforest. There’s a canopy layer of shoes and bags, an emergent layer of hanging clothes, an understory of folded clothes, and a forest floor comprised of everything that wouldn’t fit everywhere else.
Hell, I still have two trash bags full of t-shirts that will probably “mysteriously disappear” the next trash day. Whatever, she can throw it all away as long as she doesn’t try to eat a bowl of soup in bed or something.
My schedule is no longer my schedule.
Living alone is both a gift and a curse. You don’t have to be anywhere, you don’t have to do anything, you don’t have to get out of bed until you have to go to the bathroom. But those days are gone — looooong gone.
Dog gets up? I get up. She gets up for work? No way I’m falling back to sleep. She’s hungry for dinner? Well, considering she’s the better chef, I better be ready for dinner. She’s ready to go to bed? Okay, well, that’s where I have some flexibility. Frasier on Volume 6 like you read about. Will we eventually have to invest in some wireless headphones (for me) and a sleeping mask (for her)? Yeah, but Christmas is just around the corner.
Grocery shopping is more expensive. (But it isn’t.)
Our first grocery run, we spent $40 on what appeared to cover about two-and-a-half meals. I was… shocked. I began Ozark‘ing my way into setting up foreign accounts that she could never get to. Financially, I was more scared than Ruth before she met Marty.*
But then, I had the realization. Of course, math isn’t my strong suit. Haven’t taken a math class in over a decade and I hope to never take one again. But as it turns out, you actually just end up splitting everything. The plastic container of wilted lettuce that everyone has in their fridge? Not only is it half the price because we’re going splitsies, but we’re nearly finishing it to (not to brag). I buy dinner one night, she’s got the next. She buys artisanal olive oil from Napa? I decline the Venmo request because “I would never willingly buy something like that.”
I’m on my phone a hell of a lot less.
American Vandal, season two. Hilarious. Laughing myself to sleep at how idiotic yet brilliant it is. But however mindless it is, I’m just straight up not allowed to be on my phone during it. And I’m not just talking about American Vandal — it’s everything.
Soccer game on? “I’m changing it if you don’t start paying attention.” She’s making dinner? “If I cook, you can at least pay attention to me.” At the dog park? “Yeah, just sit on your phone while I pick up literal shit.”
I want to complain about how naggy all of that sounds, but if she were on her phone half as much as I was, I’d probably be saying the same thing.
Maybe stubbing my toe on an open drawer while I’m laying some fire into the group text will make me learn my lesson. Maybe. .
*Only Ozark fans will understand this tweet.
Respond
Will
Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.
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Would love to see a rebuttal column from Sally on how it is living with Will
She’s the alpha that’s for sure
Hair everywhere
This is what they never tell you before moving in with a female
Just moved in with my long-haired girlfriend and her two long-haired dachshunds. I pull hair out of my food, my toothbrush, my clothes… literally everywhere.
I’m going to get a long haired cat that will shed everywhere just to even the playing field. That’s how marriage works, right?
But you can’t replace the comfort of having another body in the bed at night, that’s worth everything else.
So where are you going to hide the ring?
I hid it in my gun drawer. She never found it
Glad to hear that you still take Sperry to the dog park
CONGRATS ON THE SEX.
Anxiously awaiting the follow-up: Five Observations After Being Neighbors with Micah
“Micah just keeps trying to wrestle me in the hallway. Even at the free coffee machine in the lobby.”
It’ll probably be worth it to get a Costco membership at this point if you haven’t already done so.
Just moved in with the SO last week … getting that membership is TOP of our to-do list this weekend.
I had mine before moving in with the SO, but I was using it just for gas and non-perishables. Even if you’re single, and your car takes premium (or you live in California), the money you save on gas more than covers the membership
BJ’s Club is better.
Misspelling “spelling bee” is kind of funny
Ozark is low-key the best show on TV. Don’t @ me, I will not be taking questions.
I like Ozark but I loved Jack Ryan and am obsessed with Billions.
If you liked those, check out Safe in Netflix. It’s a thriller starring Michael C. Hall.
Now that is some good shit.
I mean, it’s honestly not all that great. It’s just addicting.
Past career in Anti-Money Laundering ruined Ozarks for me. Their methods would get them caught in a matter of days and now I can’t watch without yelling at the screen
By far your best-ever take, and I won’t be taking rebuttals.
No one watches television anymore.