Cohabitation Hesitation
Q: My long-distance boyfriend and I have been dating for three years. I wouldn't mind living together, but he's still apprehensive about the idea. Is this just a "guy thing" or does he have no intentions of getting more serious?
A: Making the happy noise after a loud fart-that's a "guy thing." Other "guy things" include adding hot sauce to anything remotely edible, wearing underpants long past their expiration date and making up a ridiculous lie to cover a minor transgression that he wouldn't have gotten yelled at over if he hadn't lied about it.
As for moving in with a woman? Look around. Scores of men are in committed live-in relationships.
Your man has every reason in the world to be apprehensive about moving in with you. If you really thought about it, you'd be nervous too. There is a world of difference between dating and living together. My large Greek special naked friend-upon agreeing that we would be monogamous and occasionally refer to each other as "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" in conversation with others-pointed out that the biggest distinction upon reaching this agreement was that if we had some sort of ugly throw-down, we were still obligated to speak to the other person afterward. Which is difficult enough.
And you guys don't even live in the same city. Having a long-distance relationship is like having a part-time job. You want to go from a temp-type relationship straight into a 24/7 relationship? Why don't you try living in the same city for a while first?
Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with a guy? First of all, unless you're dating a midget, boy stuff is huge! Shoes like ottomans, puffy coats that could house a litter of piglets, the inevitable action-figure/computer-game/porn collection. Where are you going to put all that? Asking him to remember to put the toilet seat down will be the least of your troubles. (How about flushing?)
And decorating? Unless you're cohabitating with a self-proclaimed "metrosexual" (a whole other problem I'll get to in a minute), straight fellas are notorious for having either a horrific sense of style-or none whatsoever. Not that that will stop him from littering your apartment with neon beer signs and martial-arts movie posters. He'll become adamant about making his mark, no matter how tattered or ugly that mark may be.
If you're dating a metrosex-
No, I can't bring myself to use that marketing term again.
If you're dating a stylish and well-dressed dandy of a fella, you're in even more trouble. Because you can be sure that wherever your tastes lean, his will go in the exact opposite direction. You're fond of mid-century minimalism? Tough. He's all about Shabby Chic and wants to pack your formerly pristine apartment with cabbage roses, overstuffed sofas and Precious Moments figurines.
(Okay, maybe not.)
I've lived with two gentlemen. The first winner was AWOL from the Navy and used my (our) apartment as more of a hideout than love nest. I was a much younger (and more tolerant) woman then and found the fact that he could, at any moment, be hauled off to the brig rather exciting. That is, until he actually did get hauled off to the brig and I was left with all the bills and none of the sex.
The last time I cohabitated was with a much older gentleman who had, among other excesses, an extensive newspaper collection that I had to reckon with. That's right. Newspapers. And yes, I made him aware that the New York Public Library was well-stocked with microfilmed back issues of the New York Times, but he liked the comfort (and filth) that the decaying papers provided him with. As I moved into his rent-stabilized penthouse (mistake!), I always felt like the intruder-furtively throwing out papers and cautiously inquiring as to why he had such an enormous plastic bag collection. (Don't ask.) Not being on the lease, having no space of my own and being forced to fit my own meager possessions around gigantic stacks of crumbling periodicals made me feel like an uncomfortable visitor in what was supposed to be our home. That didn't last for very long.
Which was why I was so delighted when I got my very own rent-stabilized lease. I could put my stuff wherever I wanted and paint my kitchen hot pink if I so chose. Nobody but my landlord can kick me out-and she'd have to go to court to do so. My newspapers go straight into recycling when they're done, and my plastic-bag supply is of a normal size. I have the freedom to walk around naked and sing along with Madonna if the spirit(s) move me. I can do dishes (or not) and I answer to no one. Which is why I sometimes get nervous about my large Greek moving in.
But I digress. Your problem isn't the scariness of a big-time grown-up relationship. Your problem is an ambivalent boyfriend. Living together is a giant step and one that involves much compromise. On the other hand, why bother continuing the nuisance and expense of a long-distance relationship if you're never going to get to have sex with your beliked every night? If, after three years, your man isn't interested, there's absolutely nothing you can do about it except to find yourself a new one.