My roommate and I have lived together long enough that if same-sex common law marriages were a thing in Illinois, we would have one. Cohabiting for so long comes with a whole bucket of strangeness. If you follow us on twitter (@KLandSP) you get a sneak peek into what it's like to live in our house.
We've been told by more than one person that our lives should be a reality show. I think that's a compliment? It wouldn't actually be a great TV show though, because it would mostly consist of us making snarky remarks at the TV while watching the backlog on our DVR or episodes of Doctor Who.
We have honed some ridiculous communication skills that include, but are not limited to, understanding each other while yawning, burping, chewing, and laughing. We have even been known to communicate telepathically, like the characters on one of our favorite shows, How I Met Your Mother.
Recently we attended a bachelorette party in the Chicago suburbs for a college friend. The pub where the party started offered the bride-to-be a free dessert, and the group of us gladly accepted it on her behalf because 1) most of us had already been drinking for 3 hours and 2) dinner reservations weren't for another hour.
The waiter brought out the dessert, which seemed like some kind of ice cream cake with a chocolate cookie crust and strawberries and whipped cream. We passed it around, and Stacey held the plate while I tried to break off a bite for myself. I grabbed a dollop of whipped cream before sinking my fork into the frozen treat and trying to break through the cookie crust. After attempting to be dainty about it and getting nowhere, I finally put some effort into it, and shot the cookie crust one way, the whipped cream another, and ended with a forkful of ice cream. I happily ate the ice cream, found the piece of cookie crust, and checked the table for the dollop of missing whipped cream. It didn't take long for me to realize that the whipped cream had landed on Stacey's forearm. Without even the slightest hesitation or real eye contact, she offered her forearm to me, and I licked the whipped cream directly from her skin.
|This is a recreation of the incident substituting sour cream for whipped cream.|
Thanks to Mariah for taking this picture.
We immediately started cracking up, not because of the sheer ridiculousness of what had transpired, but because it was so normal for us!
We're also just so comfortable with each other, you know? About 4 years ago I started referring to my boyfriend and Stacey as my Life Partners. Both relationships are very important to me, as I spend the majority of my time with one or both of them. (Next year I want to send Christmas cards from the three of us with pictures in matching sweaters or something equally nuts.) Each relationship provides me with something the other doesn't. My boyfriend obviously provides me with a romagical (romance + magical = romagical) relationship that I won't elaborate on and Stacey doesn't provide. Whereas she will do things with me that Scott won't. For instance, she will happily watch Real Housewives of ___________ (pick a city - we love nearly all of them) with me. She will accompany me to Target 99% of the time. She is always ready to go get ice cream with me, no matter when she plans to eat lunch or dinner that day.
I shared this story and it's absurdity with our friend, Elizabeth, recently, right after we came to the common law marriage conclusion. Elizabeth remarked that what Stacey and I share should be called Marriage 2.0, because we've been together so long. It's obvious that we enjoy living together, and we stick together because we want to be roommates. We take trips and mini-vacations together (Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Louis!). We consult each other on all major life choices (Should I accept this job offer? or How do these pants look?). We even do projects together - like the ukuleles we're building together. That's definitely a blog post for the future...