Notes On Living With My Ex-Boyfriend For Eight Months

He stands in my doorway and rocks back and forth between the frame. We talk about the people we know. Work. School. The rats. He brings me glass containers of cranberry juice from the store. We each have our own ways of apologizing to each other. Mine just happen to involve whispering “I’m sorry” late at night on the way to the bathroom. Barefoot in front of his door.

Thought Catalog published a piece of mine. I highly recommend you read it over here.

Exit Interview

I came home from Easter dinner to these new friends. My roommate drew a menagerie of simple-yet-festive animals on balloons in anticipation of my birthday tomorrow.

My favorite is the generic mammal, middle left.

Things Are Looking Up Around Here

I was just referred to as a “boxcutter” by my roommate, thus providing me with both a brand new insult and compliment for 2011.

2010: The Year of Hugging Too Hard

This year was supposed to be all about the big push. “Do It Anyway, 2010” was the motto. Get it done. Make yourself up, make the bus, make a list, make it work, make it home, make dinner, make it happen.

It was all of those things. Sometimes too many of those things. You see, it’s possible to try too hard.

Mostly, it was time spent learning that just because someone doesn’t love you the way that you want them to doesn’t mean they don’t love you the only way they know how.

It’s December 31st and Nick is out of the shower. I can hear the suck and release of his deodorant stick in the bathroom. Occasionally, when I was home alone and sad, I used to stand at the sink and sniff the open container. But things are different now.

The last portion of this year was spent making excuses as a pair. We can’t break up because the neighbor’s dog/my mothers/your cousin/the Internet needs us. We can’t break up because we have a dining room. We can’t break up because we are quite possibly the two most stubborn people alive.

But eventually I could only bring myself to listen to Love the Way You Lie 10,000 more times on repeat before crying in the handicap stall at work. When the best fifteen minutes of my day turned into the walk home to our new house and not the time spent in it, things had to change.

So we ended it. It’s been a few months and for the first time since September our place feels lived in. Our place with a lease that is set to run through August 31, 2011.

Your eyes, I can hear them rolling. I’m used to it. What’s that? You have a lot of advice to offer? About your own personal experiences and sage wisdom on this topic? Don’t worry, I’m just decorating my new bedroom, which used to be the office we so desperately thought we needed when we found this place.

I’m embracing my living situation and finding vague pleasure in the fact that my extended family thinks I might be a swinger. I assure you this is not the case, despite all the time I’ve been spending with a certain gentleman of distinction as of late.

More on that later.

For now, I’m going to eat some eggs, wash my hair and see what the last hours of the year have in store.

2011, bring it on. 

Anatomically Correct

My main man turned 26 on Friday. We celebrated with a few of our favorite people in our new digs. Life is pretty good right now.

Civilized Love: Moving Day Edition