So, the boyfriend and I have officially moved in together. Sure, we were living together before but that was in my spidery, garden (read basement) studio. Now we have a proper pad with walls and rooms and actually 2 floors.
Two days after moving in we had heat too so I guess it's officially official.
Well, yay... I mean YAY! This close to 30 you don't just move in with people anymore. You have an agenda. I guess, 30 years ago we might have been married already. Or I would be a crazy cat lady by now...Or just crazy...Debateable. I know. Shut up.
Those of you who have known me for a while know that this isn't the first boyfriend I have cohabitated with. This one is different though...Well, they were all different in their own, "special," ways. But this one stands far apart from the rest. I have wiped my slate clean...ish and I'm trying something fresh. Something new. Something....conservative republican.
Shocking I realize.
He hides it fairly well for the most part. Just don't ask for his views on welfare reform.
And, before you ask he is not a Yuppie or a Yippie. He's not a Trader or a tie wearer in any way, shape or form. As a couple, we are the antithesis of the neighborhood we have moved into and I am sure we are somehow lowering property values by the second but screw 'em if they can't take the neighbors I say.
He's just a nice clean punk rocker from the Irish Channel of New Orleans.
Hrm, let's examine that statement and qualify some of those terms
Nice - a gentleman when he needs to be. Generally friendly and I haven't witnessed him toturing any small animals.
Clean - Well he's capable of it. And even the best among you know my penchant for dirt. I sort of like it. But he cleans up real nice. Becomes presentable in public with a shave and shower and looks rather dashing in a button-down shirt I must say.
Punk Rock - Need I? If you've met him you know. If you haven't...well I should hope you know Punk Rock when you see it and know I wouldn't settle for any second rate poser punk loser. No no no. He's the real deal yo.
The whole being from New Orleans part - It's sultry, it's smarmy, it's full of vampires...Uh so yeah, of course I love it.
In a nutshell, that's the guy I am living with. That's the guy who talks about marriage. And, you know, it's a puzzle to me why I am taking him seriously when I haven't ever really taken any of those other boys that seriously when they talk about marriage. Maybe it's because it seems to be in the air this year. Maybe it's because my mom is going to buy me a biological clock for my birthday if I don't hop on the damn bandwagon. Or maybe it's because when a guy like him starts talking about marriage you sort of HAVE to take him seriously. He's like the least likely candidate for the whole sheebang. Well, least likely behind probably me...Which I think, somehow, makes us the perfect couple.
I guess really the whole thing remains to be seen for now. If we don't kill each other in the process of buying our First Real New Couch I think we will be OK. What is it about furniture buying that turns you into a giant stress ball? It's just an upholstered chair for god's sakes. It's not the end of the world and if it's ugly, it's not even going to be the centerpiece of the living room. Whatever. Maybe I am making too big a deal out of buying "new." But, I am well known for my thrift store antics. I am not adverse to a used couch...I maybe just got a little over excited about being a grown up with some real furniture that doesn't come in a box from Sweden.
Sure, this is allll my fault.
Wait, how did this turn into an entry about a couch? I don't know but I am sure you all get the point. Happiness is a new couch. Bang Bang Shoop Shoop or something along those lines. But doesn't there come a time in all of our lives when we feel the need to start buying "new." I have so many hand-me-downs, used, vintage items in my closets and cabinets that eventually I was going to get tired of it. Most of my kitchenware is the same kitchenware I grew up with.
Does anyone remember the yellow drinking cups we used to use? Yep, still got 'em.
I've been sitting on the same Klippan love seat for 2 1/2 years now. I am so tired of staring at the, admitedly poorly thought out, purple slip cover I could cry. And this is overlooking the cat damage done to it - which is almost a whole other entry all to itself.
So yeah OK - long and short of this, for those of you I have lost now, is the new apartment is RAD. We're across the street from a dangerously low-key bar. There are more windows than I could look out of in an entire life time and so far we haven't broken each other.