MaryB and the City

Single and the City.

Not gonna lie. I’m having a little freak-out about the upcoming move [in t-minus six days]. Yes, I’m counting.

“Freak-out” is subjective and I don’t mean to overdramatize this…but the magnitude with regards to what is changing undoubtedly overwhelms me.

I knew a relocation transition was coming due to where we are in our long term, long distance courtship, but at the same time, it is one thing to process it as a concept but a whole other ordeal when it actually becomes reality.

Mr. Big has moved out of town, and state, four times during our relationship; it is practically second nature to him. But for me, I’ve been living in the same city for 14 years. My college career, entire twenties, and early thirties were born and raised here. Many of my closest girlfriends are a short drive away; we can meet for an emergency happy hour at a moment’s notice. There is comfort, memories, and history on every cobblestone street and uneven sidewalk throughout the area that I’ve called home for a long time.

Although I’ve had numerous roommates over the last decade, including the present moment, I’ve [intentionally] never lived with a signifcant other before. Instead, I’ve experienced the taking turns sleepover routine ~ then going back to my own space until the next visit.

I’m a little scared.

Scared that we won’t be peaceful, compatible living companions. That we will get on each other’s last nerve. That we might feel suffocated or claustrophobic. That the limited cohabitation closet space will interfere with our poetic shopaholic syndromes.

The truth is, I feel quite confident that none of those issues will happen based on how well we know each other & the sheer number of hours we’ve spent together, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a scoach of fear for the unknown possibilities.

I’ve been completely independent since earning an undergraduate degree. My bills, cars, clothes, rent, and food have been entirely paid for due to my own efforts. I come and go as I please. I watch what I want to watch on TV and am in a committed relationship with my DVR. I don’t have to ask for permission - for anything. I don’t check-in on purchases with anyone other than my checkbook.

Really this all comes down to letting go of my single self and shifting to a new dynamic [duo]. It’s a positive change and exactly where I wanted to be, sharing my life with the person I love.

But modification is never easy, particularly when it comes in an oversized package.

I’ll spend the next week packing up belongings, reminiscing on all of the wonderful moments shared in the River City, saying so long to my sidekicks who have been the greatest support system in my life, attempting to downsize stuff to share space with my future life partner.

And, all the while, preparing to close the book of my bachelorette days, and open the sequel: Shacked up and the [new] City.