My fiancé and I are officially four months away from saying “I Do” on a beach in Jupiter in front of our family and friends and I couldn’t be more excited!
Ever since he proposed on November 24, life has been such an adrenaline rush of celebrating with loved ones, wedding planning and marriage preparation.
I will get married just two weeks shy of my 30th birthday and I feel like the timing is perfect. After all, not only am I starting a new decade of my life in May, I’m also starting my new life as a married woman.
I love what the Internet has on all stages of being engaged and what changes when you’re engaged. From my experience so far, it’s all true! You just feel different when you’re engaged. As one article so aptly put it, your relationship is suddenly legitimate in a way it never was before.
And this article is particularly on-point and hilarious!
I also love the psychological articles I’ve read about how engagement also carries with it some undertones of grief because you’re saying goodbye to your identity as a single woman.
And in fact, that’s what I wanted to write about today. Specifically, the fact that that I am currently sitting in my last apartment as a single woman.
When that phrase entered my mind the other day, it really stopped me in my tracks. It was a novel way to look at the big life change I’m about the make.
Not counting the college years, I’ve had my own apartment since I was 21 years old. By the time I get married, that will be 9 years of my life.
I’ve had a couple of stints where boyfriends lived in MY place for a few months . And I had a friend who rented a room from me for a little more than a year. But for the most part, it’s just been me and my dog for these last 9 years.
Altogether, my dog and I have lived in five apartments and one townhome (the first home I ever owned, with a big help from my parents to make it possible) together.
I’ve had a lot of amazing experiences and firsts as a single woman that I wouldn’t exchange for anything. I learned how to do my own laundry, how to cook my first 3-course meal, how to cook my first tres leches cake, how to change a lightbulb and hang a picture, how to plant bushes in my backyard (with my mom’s help), how to iron my work shirts….
I’ve battled cockroaches in my middle of the day, mice in the middle of the night, and scared off a snake that was dangerously close to my dog in the backyard.
Okay, and in addition to being a badass who’s not afraid of anything, I’ve also been a bit of a slob.
Frankly, being the queen of your own castle can make you pretty set in your ways.
For years, I haven’t had to worry about someone else being offended by all of my dog’s fur on the floor (which really never bothered me). I have been able to dance around my apartment like a madwoman and cook naked without concerning myself with how I might seem to others. I’ve neglected shaving my legs for weeks in the winter and I’ve been a strict follower of the “If it’s yellow, let it mellow” bathroom philosophy since pretty much forever.
I’ve only bothered with picking my hair out of the shower drain when the water no longer drained and I have often had half of my clothing properly hung on a hanger and the other half strewn over all of my furniture.
I’ve been able to watch whatever shows I want to watch whenever I want to watch them, waddle bare-bottomed to the linen closet when I realize I’m out of toilet paper, and masturbate whenever I want to without worry of someone walking in on me.
When I’ve felt sad, I’ve always had the option of just turning off my phone, lying in bed and listening to sad music without the risk of some loved one trying to break up my pity party. And if ever I wanted to eat cereal or a pack of cookies for the third night in a row, no one was there to stop me.
Basically, over the last 9 years, I’ve gotten to be my unedited, pure, dorky, disgusting self without having to concern myself at all with appearing put-together, lady-like or neat.
But this May, all of that changes.
I am spending the next four months saying goodbye to the last apartment I’ll own as a single woman.
And you know, part of me is sad to let go of the reality I’ve known for the last 9 years. But also, I’m excited to finally get to share my life with the man of my dreams.
Living with my husband is going to mean I’m going to have to learn to share the crown. It’s going to mean I’m going to need to be a little less selfish and a little more compromising. I’ll need to be a little more of a mature woman and a little less of an impulsive college student (because, you know, college was 8 years ago). It means I’m going to want to consider his preferences for dinner and – gasp – learn my way around a vacuum and broom a little better (The feminist in me wants to clarify that my fiancé will be participating in the cooking and cleaning too – heck, he’s better than me at both of those things currently).
But hey, maybe not all things will change. My fiancé has said with an impish grin that he’s totally fine with me cooking naked. And he said as long as I don’t just leave my dirty tampons slung out just anywhere (because, you know, that’s not too far from my reality at times), he’s fine if I occasionally neglect to flush the toilet.
I’m excited for this beautiful, challenging, rewarding adventure we’re about to embark on together as husband and wife. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better life partner. If anyone was going to domesticate this free-spirited chick, it was going to be him. He’s amazing and I already feel like a better person for having him in my life.
So bring it on, married life! I’m ready for this new chapter of life! And in the meantime, I’ll be savoring the last few months of being an unevolved cavewoman in my last apartment as a single woman.