And 3 Other Lies I’ve Told Myself:
As you know by now, my boyfriend and I are moving in together. Actually, this is untrue. My boyfriend is staying put. I’m moving in to his place.
Before I met Alan, I vowed to never, ever, move into an apartment that a boyfriend already occupied. It would be full of his stuff, his energy, his books, and his memories. Naturally, the apartment would be a dark and dingy place, and have no appeal to me whatsoever. It wouldn’t be right. There wouldn’t be any closet space, and definitely no shoe rack. And besides, Mr. Boyfriend would have chosen it without me. It would never truly be mine.
No, I would not move into someone else’s apartment.
Well, I’m moving in. The space is spectacular. It’s bigger than I first realized. It has good light. My office will be on the warmer side of the apartment. Also, Alan actually wants me to choose the curtains, pillow cases, and a bed spread. He knows I’m drawn to large, grandma-y flowers. And he’s ok with that.
It’s true, Alan did choose this apartment without me. There are memories in these walls that I’ll never know. He’s lived mini-lifetimes here. But now it will be ours. Not his. Not mine, all ours.
And as promised, 3 Other Lies I’ve Told Myself:
1. I’ll never write for a living.
2. I’d like to go grey someday. (No day soon.)
3. I hate Williamsburg. (Fine. I don’t hate Williamsburg. It’s my new home.)