I’ve always wanted to get married but the more time I’ve spent living my best single life, the murkier the desire becomes. I’ve lived alone for nearly two years and it’s what feels right. If my future partner and I could afford it, wouldn’t it be better to each have our own homes?
It’s so much easier to communicate with someone you don’t see all the time.
My favorite roommates have been the ones I didn’t see all the time between classes or after work. There wasn’t awkward small talk and it always made our random run-ins in the kitchen so much sweeter for a weekly heart-to-heart. Getting together with friends is just as sporadic and it works for me. I feel like the more time we spend together, the more likely we are to have misunderstandings and fights or get annoyed or bored with each other.
I’ve never lived, worked, or played in proximity to past partners.
I’ve never gone to the same school as or worked with past partners. When I lived overseas, there was always an hour-plus commute on public transit to get to them. I’ve gotten used to weekend date nights but not the convenience of regular time together. It would be a major adjustment for me to suddenly live with my partner and I’m just not sure I want or need all the face time.
As I get to know and love myself better, I become more content with alone time.
If you’d asked me a year ago, I would have admitted that one of the reasons marriage appealed to me was that it meant I’d automatically have someone whose job it was to listen to and love me. I can’t be the only person who’s thought that, right? But the more passion projects I add to my life and the more invested I become in creating the lifestyle and career I want solo, the less pressure there is on my relationships to somehow complete me. I’m complete on my own, thanks.
I’m a strange combination of messy and tidy.
Between college, ministry, and post-grad life, I’ve had a lot of roommates. I’ve always been one of the cleanest when it came to common spaces but my room is always a mess if it’s my own. What if me trying to impress my husband eventually wore off (very likely) and I just didn’t care what my side of the bedroom looked like? What if he cared even less about being clean or was the opposite—a neat freak? That doesn’t sound like the peaceful oasis I’m looking for in my home life.
Sharing a bed would be a major adjustment.
I’m not in the business of spending the night and because feet and leg hair freak me out, I’m also not in the business of cuddling. To top it off, I’m a super light sleeper. While I’m curious about the bliss of waking up to my lover, I just don’t know if that’s sustainable if I actually want to sleep through the night.
I need a lot of alone time.
It’s probably no surprise I need and like to have a lot of alone time. I’m an introvert and most of my hobbies can be completed indoors and by myself—working out, reading, watching TV, and working on creative projects. Without that time and space, I might go crazy.
Unless he’s a good cook, we’re doomed.
Let’s just say I won’t be hosting Easter brunch or Thanksgiving meals any time soon. It doesn’t bother me that I’m not a chef but I’d feel guilty if I were responsible for feeding another human. If my guy likes to eat a meal more extensive than seasoned baked chicken and potatoes, he’s going to either need to head to his mom’s house or order in.
I think I like the feeling of longing.
There’s nothing like missing someone or something you love. The reunion is so much more authentic and meaningful. How am I going to feel that when he’s in my face 24/7?
At the very least, I need my own space somewhere in the house.
I doubt most couples intentionally choose the commuter life, so I’m not saying I’m opposed to a traditional co-resident marriage or household. It’s just that at the very least, I need a dedicated space or room in my home where I can work or get away to recharge. That’s not so crazy, is it?
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