The Live-in Part 1

The set up
You’ve found the perfect girl. She’s hot, funny, your friends love her, the sex is incredible and you even like the same stupid things.

One day while the both of you are out eating ice cream, she hits you with a question, “Where do you think this relationship is heading?”

You’re so shocked to hear this that you damn near choke on your creamy delight. All you can think is, “please don’t talk about marriage.”

Then she hits you with it, “I think we should move in together.”

You’re instantly relieved because it’s not what you thought it would be. Now your guard is down and she has you exactly where she wants you. Take it from me man. Don’t do it. Drop the ice-cream and run. Don’t look back just keep running. Run like Freddy Kruger is on your ass. Run like the police found a murder weapon with your finger prints, run for your fucking life.

Don’t Do It!
I know what your probably thinking. Not my girl man. She’s great. We laugh, talk, get along, everybody loves her, it’s all good man. Yeah, that’s what me and many other defeated men said as well. Many of my friends tried to warn me, my dad even tried to warn me; in fact every man who’s ever lived with their woman for more than a year all said the exact same thing, “Think that shit through man, don’t rush it, believe me.”

And now here I am saying the same gems that were passed along to me that I duly ignored. Think it out man. Really think it out.

I’ve composed a few things that you are guaranteed to go through if you decide not to listen to me. I wouldn’t really call it advice. It’s more like an explanation of the process that you’re going to go through. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t warn you.

The Move In
First things first. Now that you’ve told the lady of your life that you are willing and wanting to spend every waking moment with them (more on this later), you have to consolidate all your things to go into one location… hold on, let me correct that, you have to get rid of most of your shit so that she can keep all of her shit.

The great poster of the dogs playing poker? Gone! Your incredible collection of girly magazines? Peace! The great sofa that you’ve slept on, ate on, gamed on, watched movies and cheered for your favorite team!?!? Boy stop… adios! In your lady’s eyes it’s all trash.

Your walls will soon be lined with photographs of ballets and horses. You’ll have things in your crib that you’ve never seen before like end tables, coasters and candles.

Whether you’re moving in with her, getting a new place, or she’s moving in with you; the end result will always be the same. You are officially a visitor in a place where you pay rent or a mortgage. Get use to it because it’s never going to change. If you’re lucky and some of us actually are, you’ll get a little room off to the side for your stuff. In reality it’s just a storage facility for the things she’s willing to tolerate… for now.

Quality Time
The only time I’ve ever really heard this term used is when I lived with my lady. When you lived in separate spaces quality time was ANY time spent with your significant other. You guys were so in love back then that even a small chat in the living room was a memorable moment. Not anymore. Even though you see your lady all day every day, it’s still not enough. Quality time takes on a whole new meaning when you’re living with your lady. I’ve worked it out into a mathematical equation that can easily sum it up:

The amount of quality time (qt) received is directly proportional to the amount of money spent ($) multiplied by the distance traveled (dt) to reach quality time destination. ($ x dt = qt)

If you happened to be going with friends. That number is divided by how many other people go with you ($ x dt/f = qt). If those other people include your male friends, the power of that division is doubled ($ x dt/2f = qt). I know that all sounds strange to you guys that have never done this before but trust me the math is perfect.

Stayed tuned for part 2


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