What’s the Worst (and Best) Thing About Living Together? An Open Thread

Seeking advice on how to cohabitate in queer relationships

A staged portrait at home | Photo by Tomás Rodriguez

This past week, we posted an excellent essay by Michael Narkunski, titled “Brotherly Love, No Relation.” In it, he details the first time he visits his new boyfriend’s childhood bedroom in his mother’s house. Those first times we see how our love object lives (or grew up) can dredge up all types of feelings, as if we’re peering into part of their psyche. (Full disclosure: I’ve visited them in the home they share together in Los Angeles, and they continue to have a cute cohabitation routine, with all the quirks that you’d expect.)

Author Edgar Gomez also touched on issues around living with someone. As he shared in QLP’s first questionnaire: “I used to HATE the idea of living with someone and sharing space. I like my privacy. … In fact, I feel more comfortable and free than before. And maybe it’s not terrible to be with someone who would like to have a meal at a normal time every now and then.”

That got me thinking because Samuel, a friend in his early thirties, is preparing to move in with his boyfriend, Boris, who is a decade older. They started out by looking for a new place together and, after months of searching, eventually decided that Boris would move into Samuel’s apartment. 

“Any advice for living with someone for the first time?” Samuel asked. 

Of course, my first knee-jerk response was the most obvious: “Communicate!” 

But we all know that it’s more complicated and means something different for everyone. When I moved in with my boyfriend, now husband, over 20 years ago, I had a pretty sweet deal. He had accepted a position running his university’s study abroad program in Barcelona, which came with a rent-free furnished apartment on a swanky corner in the heart of the Mediterranean city. So, I like to joke that the best way to move in with someone is not to have to decide how to blend your furniture or worry about each other’s individual tastes and hang-ups—up to a point.

Those years we spent together in Barcelona felt like a two-year honeymoon (without ever actually getting married), and a chance to discover a lot about who we were to one another without some of the pressures of the “real world.” Once we moved back stateside and found an apartment together, we then had to negotiate the furniture and belongings and more. Over the years, I’ve written about how we shared clothes (I doubt we’re the only ones who swap shoes since we’re the same size and share underwear and other garments) and the importance our sofa has been to our relationship. Everything comes with baggage—sometimes literally.

Back to my friend: I followed up by offering more pragmatic ideas as well. “Make sure you discuss your ‘roles,’ like who likes to cook, who cleans, what chores do you prefer,” I suggested. “And if you have any pet peeves, make sure you share them so nobody is assuming anything.”

“I am actually kind of a clean freak,” Samuel confessed. “So I guess I’ll just handle it.”

“Make sure you discuss it and don’t assume anything,” I said. “Because that’s where the arguments and the battle lines get drawn.”

“OK, good point,” he replied.

“One friend told me, ‘If you can afford it, get a housekeeper,’ since nobody likes cleaning toilets and it’s the number one thing people bitch about.”

Another suggested that it’s good to keep track of all the things that your partner does for you in a week and to praise them so they feel appreciated. Maybe that depends on what type of love language each of you is speaking? But if it works, it doesn’t hurt to try!

The other most common miscommunication is around money. I often tell people that most relationships falter (or fail) because of issues surrounding sex and money. It’s probably why Anna Sale’s Death, Sex & Money podcast is so popular. 

At brunch earlier this year, a friend had a new way of expressing it. “Every relationship has a CFO,” she said. “Someone who handles the finances, deals with the money better.” Since then, I’ve used that phrase as a nice shorthand, “I’m the CFO of our relationship,” for being the one that manages the bills and more (side note: I took on that role from the start, even when I wasn’t the main income earner). 

I’ve found that can get more complicated in same-sex couplings since some of the (unfortunately) gendered roles get blurry. Assumptions about self-sufficiency and dependency can be triggered. Some people keep separate checking and savings accounts, some have different versions of “blending.” Having these discussions can be more difficult than deciding what type of kink you enjoy because it can make you feel even more vulnerable. But it’s essential!

Of course, before marriage was legal for same-sex couples, these ideas were handled in different ways by individuals. For example, my partner and I consulted with a lawyer who specialized in LGBT issues (a no-nonsense lesbian, naturally) to discuss our will, power-of-attorneys, and more details that we felt were important since we lacked most legal protections. That became a form of couples counseling. Now, with marriage becoming normalized for queer people (and often a next step after moving in and living together), people may decide not to do the hard work of discussing some of these topics since they are rife with potential conflict. But I hope they do!

I wanted to share these anecdotes to start a Friday open thread, so now it’s your turn. In the comments tell us:

What’s the best thing about living together? What’s the worst thing about cohabitating? Any advice for first-timers? What if you love someone and don’t like sharing a space with another person? Any deal breakers? Any other strange revelations or insights about yourself that you discovered when you decided to shack up?

Thanks again for your support and for reading. If you’d like to submit an original essay or answer our questionnaire, email us at QueerLoveProjectSub@gmail.com to find out how you can contribute.