A Room of One's Own – Part 2

And just to be sure I really learned my lesson, I decided to give shacking up the old college try once more.

This time things were quite different. I was already in my own place and I had a boyfriend who seemingly adored me and wanted to move in with me.

I should have said no.

I know I should have said no but I said yes (and trust me, over a year later I’m still kicking myself for it).

I said yes because he gave me this sob story about how he hates his apartment and he hates his roommate and he’s living in poverty etc., etc.

I felt for him.

And the prospect of having my rent cut in half was an extremely attractive one.

Here I had the opposite problem. Before, it was always me trying to make it work, hanging on in a fog of insecurity and idealist perceptions of love. And it was he who realized way before I did that we’d made a mistake and wanted to be free.

This time it was he who was insecure and clinging and I who’d realized the mistake and wanted to be free.

There were several other reasons this one was doomed from the start.

One was that the apartment was too small. Well not exactly. It was the perfect size for me (and my cat). Add another person into the mix and you’re headed for trouble.

Second…a writer and a musician (drummer) living together? Bad news.

Thirdly, if shack up one must, it is better for both parties to leave their current residences and get a new place together. A place that will feel like it belongs to the both of you. When one person just moves in with the other, everything is cute as first but inevitably it starts to feel as though one is in the other’s space. Not once, in the entire year living with “number 2″, did I ever stop thinking about the apartment as mine versus thinking of it as ours.

Another valuable thing I learned about myself is that I am an introvert.
I’d never considered myself an introvert because I was always friendly and got along with people. Then my ex (an unbelievable and shameless extrovert), showed me an article and it was spot on.

We broke up sometime later.

It was beyond difficult and for awhile he simply refused to leave.

When he finally did leave, moving clear across the country to get away from me, it was as if I’d held my breath for a year and was now able to breathe again.

Next lesson: take it slow.

The reason we didn’t work was no big secret. We had rushed things and that was the simple fact of it all. We took a step that was way too big for two people who knew so little of each other. And months later, when they honeymoon was over and those true colors started to shine on through, we discovered simply that we just didn’t like each other.

I knew better. I can’t even blame him.

Also when you get too used to living alone (and liking it, no loving it), it is in most cases too late.

Which brings me to a final valuable lesson: this shackin’ up shit just ain’t for me.

I am at heart the cat. The loving yet fiercely independent cat that will rub against your feet, let you feed me and stroke me, make you think I adore you.

And then dash out as soon as you open the door to roam around the block.

I may return, and then again I may not.