The Lemon Life | online magazine offering a fresh perspective on post-grad life.

Words by: Gillian Edwards

Image by: Karolin Schnoor

During university, I never lived with anyone that I was involved with. I had too good of a time living with my best friend and true soul mate, and failed to see why I would change what I had for a trumped-up version of playing house. But in my final year, I met a man who I fell hard for and ended up spending much more time at his apartment than at my own. From this, the spiral to living together proper was an easy one. Now, I am (not so) fresh out of university and living with my partner. To boot, I moved to Alberta to live with him from the great friend Montreal, leaving behind friendships, family and the city that I love. Talk about commitment.

The Oxford English dictionary describes cohabiting as “living together and having a sexual relationship without being married”. To me, that doesn’t even scratch the surface. In fact, it only mentions the good stuff. Sex is the easy part—I don’t see anything in that description that pertains to dirty dishes and laundry, or combined space and mutual cost of living.

In university, the friends of mine that had that lived with their partners were one of two types of couples. The first kind was really together: clear about their plans for the long-haul and mortgages and babies. The others were doing so because financially (or logistically) it just made sense—no romance or big plans behind it.

The lack of real jobs and real salaries made the whole act of university “live-ins” a little less…real. I had a more intense and committed relationship with my roommate than most had with their live-in lovers. We cooked for each other, left notes when something good or bad happened, shared the laundry load and were completely involved in each other’s lives while still respecting the separation that each human needs to stay sane.

Their situations were still on the level of playing house, where the stakes weren’t high enough to hurt someone that long-term. Getting rid of a one bedroom in Montreal is never very difficult—getting rid of the guy is usually more tough. In the university live-in, you always have an “out” at the end of the semester because there is always an opportunity to leave for the summer, for a term, for whatever reason you need. You can just check the expiration date of the relationship when in doubt. A limited lease with rent below five-hundred dollars is exactly the situation that you want when you are unsure of your choice in living mate.

The transition from living with someone in a casual sense to living with someone while holding genuine jobs is not so hard at the beginning. In fact, there is a siren song to it because it seems to be that much sweeter. No longer are you dependent on your parents or part-time job for your income; you now have your own. Your spare time isn’t at the campus bar for one-dollar drinks or “studying”; it’s used for finishing work, or being able to go out to dinner, or buying things for your new place, or washing your work clothes.

At the same time, there is the fear that you will lose yourself. You are no longer defined as a student, but rather as a graduate. That reality alone is difficult to navigate, even before you throw in living with someone while doing it. You are living this new life with someone who you have deemed to be worthy of sharing it with. Your decisions become mutual with the other person’s arrive just when you think that you might be able to figure it out on your own. Figuring yourself out is a lifelong endeavour that doesn’t end after your twenties, but this is certainly the time to shine in that department. This is when you can get away with wearing ridiculous things and being hung-over at the office and your laundry is backed up for weeks. Doing that for yourself and living with someone who is trying to do the same is like a constant juggling act. I am almost an expert at it.

Being a young woman, the struggle between the “career-chaser” and the homemaker is one of the most difficult things to negotiate within yourself. Or at least, it is for me. I have always been a feminist, strongly subscribing to the point of view that a woman should be able to have a fulfilling career and doesn’t require a man to provide for her and the babies are her choice and huzzah women! I’m the one trail-blazing down the career-path and I’m the one with the slabs of bacon in my purse for the little ones at home and I am the one with the little man at home, taking care of the kids! Huzzah!

And now I own a rolling pin, an apron for cooking, a recipe box almost filled and a week’s worth of groceries because dinner is pre-planned. It isn’t a bad thing to want to make a nice home to come back to, to want a great meal every night and be the one to cook it. To me, it’s a show of love for my partner. If only I could get my feminist brain to understand that, I’d be all set.

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