…in no particular order…
1. There’s no such thing as leftovers.
As a single gal living on her own, I often cooked in bulk. There was the soup craze of Winter ’08, where I brought the same stew in for lunch every day. There were also casseroles and pasta dishes that could last anywhere from 2-4 meals. That is no longer the case.
Whatever we make, regardless of suggested serving size, is gone by the end of dinner. On the one hand, this is good. It means a) that the fridge isn’t stuffed with food we’ll forget about, and b) that the boyfriend likes my cooking. On the other, it means lunch just got a little more expensive.
2. I no longer have custody of the remote.
When two people move in together, you usually assume that the “what’s mine is ours” rule comes into play. And that’s true of everything – except the remote. Even though it technically is ours – we upgraded to this beauty of a TV post-move in -
Why yes, that *is* NCIS.
I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve controlled it.
Okay, maybe two hands. Sometimes he hasn’t been home.
Usually this is fine. I’m not that picky. But we have had this conversation more than once.
Him: “Here, baby. Watch whatever you want.”
Me: *switches the channel to NCIS/SVU/Criminal Minds*
Him: “Oh…but not that. Don’t you want to watch [anything other than crime shows]?”
We’re working on it.
3. Getting ready in the morning is much more fun when accompanied by a duet.
Regardless of who gets up and showers first, we’re both scurrying around in the morning about the same time, and we always have music on. I am an unapologetic shower singer, but never has it been more fun than when I hear him join in on the other side of the curtain.
Karaoke, here we come!
4. The “hug and roll” is not quite as necessary as the “jab and shove.”
Every couple has to make adjustments when they consistently share a bed (or anything, really). Some people are sprawlers; some hog the blankets; some throw the blankets on you, so you wake up sweating at 3am; some sleep with elbows out, as if always in attack position.
I call all of these people the boyfriend.
I have grown quite fond of my sliver of our queen-sized bed. And I have nearly perfected my “jab and shove” so that he rolls over (and takes his elbows with him) without much effort. But it’s still an art.
And there are still some mornings that I wake up with an elbow in my eye.
5. The cliches are true: coming home to someone you love immediately makes a long, hard, stressful day infinitely better.
Especially when that someone you love has also made you dinner.
It makes the bed wars that much more manageable.
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