I thought I knew everything about falling in love, until I actually FELL in love.
I wish that I could say "falling in love" was a trite cliché, but I literally fell off of a trampoline in front of my future boyfriend. Blake likes to tell people that I jumped off and landed face first into a clothes line (how romantic) but I was actually sitting down on the edge of the trampoline and it tipped over on top of me.
Luckily, Blake was one of my best friends, and he'd already witnessed so many of my embarrassing stories first hand, that falling off a trampoline hardly seemed thwarting. Of course, it didn't stop him from toppling to the ground next to me flummoxed with uncontrollable laughter.
Until I met Blake, I had always been one of those girls who kept relationships at an arm's length. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't playing games, or whatever kids like to call it these days. I just had an agenda. I knew I was born to lead a driven life of travel and writing, and I was worried that falling in love would compromise potential exciting life experiences. One thing was for certain. I was never going to live with a boyfriend.
I thought I knew everything about falling in love until I actually FELL in love, just like I thought I knew everything about Blake until I lived with him.
Living with Blake hasn't really changed much about our friendship or our relationship as far as core principles are concerned. We still use rock, paper, scissors to diplomatically solve every problem. There is never an argument about who does the dishes or who gets to watch what show. It's a simple, pain free, game to three. We still sit together on the couch and exchange new music. We still cook dinner together and talk about our days. We do all of the things we did when we were just friends.
There are, however, new things that Blake and I have learned about each other since moving in together. Habits, mannerisms, and quirks stick out that may have been present but unacknowledged before we shared a living space.
Here are a few examples:
-One day I asked Blake to help me make the bed. We each stood on opposite sides of the bed, turning down and smoothing out our bedding. Then, he grabbed his pajama bottoms, folded them, and placed them under his pillow like a two year old would if they lost a tooth. Confused, I asked him why he didn't just put them in the drawer; he explained that his mom always put his pajamas under his pillow as a child. It was so endearing.
-I have a habit of leaving the milk out. It drives Blake crazy. I'll be buzzing around in the morning during my mad dash to work, and after pouring my tea in a to-go mug, I sprint out the door usually leaving the milk on the counter.
-I started noticing that Blake's clothes were always left on the bathroom floor after his morning shower. He suggested each of us having our own laundry basket, so I took a trip to target and purchased two fancy laundry baskets. Guess where his clothes ended up the next morning? On the bathroom floor again. His reasoning to this day for this is that he doesn't want to wake me up in the morning. Apparently putting your t-shirt in the laundry basket is equivalent to starting a pots and pans band at 6am.
-When I lose something, I become a human tornado. I am extremely organized when it comes to anything work or writing related. I have a planner, a blogging notebook, a journal, and my lap top. Everything is organized, tabbed, color coded, timed, and dated. However, if I lose something like my keys or my phone, I also lose the ability to think rationally. I tear my bedroom apart to find what I'm looking for. Whatever it is, it's usually in my coat pocket.
Finding out these quirks is part of living together. Honestly, even the quirks that drive us crazy some days are still vital to the survival of our healthy relationship. It means we're still learning new things about each other, and we're still taking time to notice little things about each other. In my opinion, that is more important than whether or not the clothes make it into the laundry basket.
One thing I DO know for certain is that as long as we're still exchanging music and cooking dinner together at the end of every day, I'll have all I need.
Carley is a twenty four year old currently living in New Hampshire. After graduating college with a degree in English, and taking a couple of years to travel the globe (ahem, while constantly getting lost using foreign public transportation in large cities) she now resides back in her home town. She is somewhere between trying to have it all figured out, and not even being close, but she writes in hopes that somebody out there thinks the way she does. She has a NikonD3000 that could be considered a third arm, and she may seek surgical help for this eventually. Carley thinks speaking in third person is incredibly awkward, but she's glad you're here anyway. You can find Carley on her personal blog (http://findingravity.com) or on twitter @carbarton. *fistbump*