I grew up in a time when women lived with men sans the benefit of marriage, but there was a romantic sort of relationship involved.
It seemed on the platonic front, women lived with women and men lived with men.
Married for the last 11 years, this obviously has been a moot point. I live with a man, but I am married to him. Society smiles upon my living arrangements, and I haven’t really contemplated other arrangements that society might have changed its mind about in the last 10 years.
So, when the office admin threw up her hands at being able to find 2 furnished apartments located close to each other and downtown and asked how we felt about sharing a space, it gave me a bit of a pause.
What would people think? I’m old fashioned enough that I don’t want everyone to think I am a woman of loose morals. (Let’s face it, I’m old fashioned enough that I used the term “woman of loose morals”)
I asked Mr. Spit who said “weird, but doesn’t bother me. Also, have you told him about your shoe problem and your habit of leaving coffee cups everywhere?”
I asked my 2 best friends, and they just shrugged.They asked if I there was a reason I still lived in 1950, or if it was just because I felt like they knew me there?
I asked that it not be commonly discussed – I don’t want either of us, or our spouses to be the subject of gossip. It seems like the sort of thing we just don’t need to advertise.
It was enough of a thing that I debated not telling anyone really.
So, I moved in with Mr. California. It’s been fine. He’s very neat, and that’s a bit of a challenge for me – I am not neat by nature. I’m cooking dinner and he’s washing the spoon I was using to stir.
But last night was a stumper. I packed a dress I never bring on the road – it needs someone to zip up the last 2 or so inches. Well, that’s not true. I packed it to Calgary a few times and cornered my old Sys Admin, and made him zip it up, but it’s Edmund. It just never felt strange to ask him.
I love this dress. I really wish I got to wear it more. I just can’t move my elbows in such a way to do it up. I can actually undo it just fine. I just can’t get the last few inches in the morning.
So I was standing over my suitcase, dress in hand. I was agonizing. I sent an email to my mailing list. I sent a request out of facebook.
Can you ask your male roommate to zip up your dress (where he might, at best, if he was looking and he won’t be because he’s happily married and has met Mr. Spit), see 3 inches of your spine?
And how stupid am I going to sound when I say “hey, tomorrow, if it doesn’t creep you out, and it’s totally ok if it does although that’s really not my intent, honestly. I’m not trying to be a woman of loose morals, I just really want to wear one of my favourite dresses and I can’t do it unless you zip me up, and I don’t know if the female test lead will be in the office this morning to finish zipping me up. So, if you wouldn’t mind, could you just do this? And then when you are done, go stand far away from me, because I keep looking for the lightening bolt – I’m sure my grandmother has something to say about this”