Sometimes 1 Isn’t the Loneliest Number
scrappybadger December 29th, 2007
I like living by myself. I did it for a while in college and then after college when I got my first real job. Piig and I were both pretty happy living alone when we met. Of course, once we started dating and going through the initial I-can’t-stand-to-be-away-from-you phase she spent lots of time at my apartment. So much time that she moved her cat into my apartment because poor little Julie was getting lonely. It was a change for me, and it took some getting used to having someone in my space all the time, but being all gaga over this cute new dyke helped.
We started dating in October and officially moved in together the following August. I got laid off from my software engineering job in March, and my asshole landlord wouldn’t renew my lease when he found out. It was pretty much impossible to find another apartment by myself that was affordable and would take me on without a job. It was in the months after September 11; the tech sector was dead around here, so I was out of work for a while. Piig and I started looking for places together and eventually found a small 1.5 bedroom house in her neighborhood. When that went up for sale we moved to our current house.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret moving in with Piig. I wish that the circumstances had been different and that we’d been able to make the decision without my unemployment and housing situation hanging over our heads. I think we would have waited much longer than we did.
Plus, out of everyone else I know in the world Piig is the only one I’d want to live with. My idiosyncrasies are a pain, but she takes it in stride. For the most part she understands where it all comes from, so though she complains about it, she is understanding in a way that most people would never bother to be. And we have fun. We’ve always been big morning snugglers. We can spend a few hours in the bed in the morning talking, playing with Luna and/or several of the cats, and just generally having a good time. It is nice to have someone to talk to whenever you want, someone to cook with or for, and someone to cheer you up after a sucky day.
Nevertheless, there are days when I desperately want to live alone again, and I know Piig has them too. Sometimes the quiet of solitude is nice. Sometimes you just don’t feel like compromising; you want the heat at 68 and you don’t want to bargain it up to 70. The truth is, living together can be really good, but it can also put a tremendous strain on a relationship. Especially so if both parties are feminists trying hard to split responsibilities evenly and fairly all of the time.
It is a struggle, and though Piig and I have something of a system, it is still hard. We both fantasize about living alone again. We imagine ourselves with houses next door to one another or adjacent apartments. I hang on to that idea because there are times when I can’t imagine never having my own space again. I know that talking about a Room of One’s Own has almost become a cliche, but it is just so true that women need it. I need space that is all mine, a place where I can get away from everyone to do the things I want and need to do. I need that time to think. I need a place that is mine. And Piig needs a place that is hers.
Money, like always, gets in the way. We’re lucky to have found the place we’re currently in, so separate apartments or houses or a bigger house together are pretty much out of the question. We’ll just continue to work with what we have. I’ve been enjoying the past few days while Piig is off visiting her grandmother in another state. Poor Piig won’t even get her two nights alone anymore since I’m not teaching night classes this semester.
Meanwhile, I’ll keep daydreaming about my own place or an attic room in some future house with Piig.
