Not for the faint-hearted...

It was the 5th of August when our world’s first collided. Before that, we existed as completely whole and separate entities. Technically, we still do, but co-habitation undeniably brings with it a grey area, a space where two beings fuse and effortlessly (or effortfully) co-exist.

In six months we collected memories as hoarders collect things; indiscriminately cherishing every interaction. Those condemned days spent apart were sweetened with good morning phone calls and goodnight texts, and packing for sleepover’s became an anticipated affair. Of course, packing for overnight stay’s progressively stretched into packing for entire weeks; the topic of ‘living together’ more and more frequently found its way into our conversations, until we found ourselves signing a lease to mutually call a place home.

Most people called us crazy, impulsive, reckless, remarking that six months is too soon for two people, not fully knowing the other, to make such a significant commitment. However, we didn’t align with their reasoning, for us, there was no reason at all except that it just felt right. Deciding to live together felt completely natural, like all our other instinctive reactions. When you’re cold, you put socks on; when you’re hungry, you prepare yourself a meal; so when you commit to building a future with your partner, moving in together is what follows, naturally, without the need for extra thought.

And that’s exactly what followed. A lot of learning; even more growing.

(Konstantinos)

I am the kind of person who forgets what books they have on the bookshelf. Once they read it, or after they’ve purchased it, then it just kind of hangs around. When I was moving in with my (now) fiancé, I was going through all of my belongings, trying to combine my stuff to present a neat and well-organised persona. That was when I found myself holding a book from Silverstein “The missing piece meets the big O”. It’s an easy read, you don’t really have to spend more than half an hour to read it through. The message is simple and straight to the point — when you fit in, exactly as you are, there is no room for doubts.

The difference between us (Stephanie and I) was that I am a rookie. It was my first time moving in with a partner, so I wasn’t aware of how I would react to having someone to interact with on my dark days. As most of you know, when we are happy we are willing to celebrate with the whole world, but when we feel vulnerable or grumpy, we seek solitude. To be honest with you, I can be ungrateful, I can be mean, I can say things that I don’t intend to because I know they’ll hurt. It’s in these moments that co-habitation teaches me who I really am, and who I’m spending my life with. It’s also in these moments that my fiancé shines. In our tiny little home, there is no balcony to step out on to, to breathe, to observe what just happened, or process why we act or react the way we do, so she hugs me and holds me, helps me to stand and stay exactly in the same spot, to face up to any-and-everything life throws at us. Of course, there is room for improvement. Indeed, I have learnt some lessons on how to be a better “cohabitator” — namely that I don’t need to be alone on the dark days. So apart from sharing a wet towel after showers, co-habitation has been a positive experience for me. :)

(Stephanie)

I am less of a rookie when it comes to living with a partner, perhaps somewhat misfortunately. You see, past experiences are the fuel of apprehension. It is the all-to-real experience of how things don’t always work out. Thankfully, my secretly harboured doubts were quashed by Konstantinos’s certainty. As an introvert, my home is my sanctuary, it is my place to recharge; replenish, so sharing it with someone threatens the safety it incapsulates. I’m also weirdly sentimental about silly things that I’ve collected over the years, fortunately, we both are, so the careful selection of personal belongings to take or toss, meant a seamless merging of mine and yours into ours. Leading me to a confession… he tossed more than me. In all fairness, I had a head start. I had long been practicing the art of culling items that I deemed unnecessary or that had bad memories attached, because part of a home feeling safe for me, is ensuring there are no triggering items around.

The antidote to cohabitation - interdependence, the sophisticated middle ground between dependence and independence. For some, that is a real challenge; for others, it comes effortlessly. The hesitation with cohabitation is often the fear of losing yourself to the “we” pronoun, the problem with independence is that you are then two completely separate individuals, just with a compromising, cramped living arrangement. But somewhere between those two is the perfect balance, of common goals and shared dreams. This is the space where both of you can become your best selves. You have each other’s support, you leverage your individual strengths and make up for each other’s weaknesses, dancing between staying true to yourself and needing the other, your mutual determination and drive brings all of those goals and dreams to fruition and you call that life — not merely the act of co-existing, but co-living.

That’s the real place to reside. But finding it is not for the faint-hearted...