The Natural "Next Step"

OUR ADDICTION TO SHARED SPACES

Living with other people in adulthood can be challenging in many ways. I am fortunate in that most, if not all, of my past roommate situations were not only mutually financially favorable but also turned out to be enduring or meaningful friendships.

With every phase of life though—starting with college to medical school to postgraduate training—the desire for living alone and independence became stronger. And not out of disdain for any particular person or roommate, this was but a need for space that was wholly and intimately mine.

I lived with a wonderful roommate for my year of fellowship—again, partially due to rising housing costs of San Diego, but I found a wonderful and lifelong friend in her. Despite our wonderful relationship, I found myself wanting my own space again. And now with an attending salary, this was finally feasible with the never-ending price increases for apartments.

After all, having my own space meant so much more than just being able to decorate, organize, or tidy the way I wanted. It also offered a tranquil seclusion when I was overwhelmed, and opportunity to do what I wanted when I wanted. In short, it offered control and this was worth the price tag. I was determined to live alone for the foreseeable future—until I met Peter.

Peter’s situation was very different. For the last decade of his life, he had been house-hacking or finding ways to suppress the amount of money he spent on rent. It never made financial sense to him, as living space was simply shelter—a place to shower and sleep.

When we met, he was living with his parents, a situation he devised as a way of being closer with them as they got older—so that he may assist them in their day to day. Though he desired to move out and establish himself independently as the situation with his parents stabilized, it was not at the forefront of his priorities. For him, the emotional value must greatly exceed that of financial sense, and that was a high bar.

We started having talks about living together perhaps only 6 months after dating. I was already planning on moving due to costs, and Peter was growing more keen on finding his own space. After all, several months into dating, Peter was already spending extended weekends at my place. And this quickly grew into weeklong stays. We ultimately decided to move in together. We found a place, and will be cohabitating starting June 2025.

This was not an easy or quick decision for either of us—but we made sure it was an intentional one. The last thing we wanted was to fall into a situation, especially those around major relationship milestones, and especially not out of convenience. We are both in phases of our lives where convenience is not always worth the price.

We found that we are similar on many of the superficial things: cleanliness, tidiness, and routines such as meal prep. Even better was the fact that we each enjoyed different chores and household tasks—one of the many ways in which we complemented each other. Importantly, we could tolerate the amount of space and time spent together.

Perhaps the biggest question we had for ourselves and with each other was whether we were moving too quickly. This conversation came up several times over the months we were discussing housing and potentially moving in together.

One of my favorite things about Peter is his views on relationships, one of which is that things don’t always move in a linear fashion. Stages of a relationship do not occur on a prescribed timeline, or even necessarily a certain order. We were comfortable with just the singular act of living together at this point in time—that’s all that really mattered.

This comfort in cohabitation is rooted in emotional maturity on both sides, or so I like to think. We can share a space without arguing. We have our heated moments, but never about minutia or non-consequential things. We both have the mindset that life is too short to be squabbling over the non-issues like who is going to do the dishes that night. We have a fluid system of support, complementing each other’s weaknesses or on days when the other is struggling.

Even though we each have our preferred household tasks, we certainly don’t mind picking up the slack for the other. This demonstration of empathic understanding is truly a mature manifestation of projection— a psychological defense often with negative connotation.

Similarly, we openly discuss what is valuable to each of us in our current situation. We have work exceedingly hard on understanding the other’s preference in allocation of resources—time, energy, and money.

This is the only way we foresee building a home and not just a place in which two people happen to reside. We find it acceptable to pay for luxuries like space, hardwood flooring, in-unit washer dryer while problem solving and making do in areas that were lacking, such as a facility gym or other amenities.

In a similar fashion, we set agendas and parameters around what personal space means to each of us—matters beyond materiality that may include hosting friends in the shared space, alone time for our individual endeavors, and spatial organization being examples.

After a few dedicated talks, it was apparent that we were both not only comfortable with the idea of living together, but rather looking forward to it. Our routines were similar with an emphasis on health and productivity. Our shared vision and values aligned in creating a sensible yet comfortable space to live out this next chapter of our lives.

And, we each had a sense of responsibility—not only to the home, but to each other. We enjoyed each other’s presence, even when we were just playing in parallel—me with my studies and Peter tinkering away on his laptop.

Though there are two grown humans living together, the work in any task never felt like it doubled compared to when I was single. We were both highly functional on our own, but together we find ourselves excelling.

Moving in and living with a significant other brings the overlap of our lives so much closer. As June approaches, I would be remiss not to address the slightest sense of apprehension—perhaps a mild anxiety. But what is anxiety if not the veiled sibling of excitement? I’ve lived so much of my life with an anxious disposition. But I am finding that as we move toward cohabitation, every inkling of worry brings with it many more joyous moments, and an ever materializing vision of our future.

XOXO,

Howard and Peter