Dollhouse

The new formal dining room

In my early 20’s if I were to announce that I was cohabitating with my significant other, my parents brows would have raised in unison to share their unanimous discontent. The dissatisfaction stems from a generation that believed a commitment, a ring, and or wedding ceremony needed be in the works for cohabitation to occur. Fast forward to present day with the remnants of a failed marriage lining their basement and I found my parents brows neither raised nor shifted slightly when I announced my cohabitation plan for 2010. Instead, my parents opened their basement door urging the removal of old objects and offered to store large pieces of furniture for a future, larger home.

As I made announcements to my friends about our unwed living arrangement, many were supportive and yet, they could not help but ask about an impending wedding date. Thankfully, I have reached a place in my life where I no longer feel the “pressure” to produce a socially acceptable answer (Sorry, Emily Post). I simply respond with the truth that if we reach that point…GREAT…if not…then we all move on without lawyers, division of property, and 2 families torn apart because the fairytale did not work out. It happens. While I would love to believe that I have found someone I could wear a diaper around in my later years, the reality is…I may not have found that and only time will tell.

My salty, sarcastic disposition comes from my front row seats of marriages that have occurred in the past two years. I have seen the manic crazed hype built around a few hours for two people who may or may not be able to make it work. I have seen couples who’s “starting off” is already faltered by sly comments made from siblings, family members or Facebook posts. I now understand that you marry because you believe you can work through all the obstacles that come along. If marriage were a video game…it might be like “Frogger” where you are carefully dodging cars. You have only so many lives before GAME OVER.

Living together requires a level of commitment beyond handholding and cheek kissing. Everything is negotiable from a formal dining room converted to a bike room to which direction the toilet paper should rotate. If these simple ideas, tasks, and chores cannot be worked out…it is safe to say a marriage would only be as good as the Titanic and a survival rate of 1 in 3 are NOT good odds. I feel my odds are in my favor as I supported the dining room conversion and I could care less about the direction of toilet paper. Here goes nothing.