I am not moving too fast

The decision to get an apartment with Bob in Philly feels so natural. I gave it adequate consideration, asking myself whether I trust Bob and how I expect to share everything with him. And I asked the big question: Are we moving too fast?

Well, I do trust Bob and we do feel compatible. “Too fast” is relative, anyway; I think our pace is fast, but comfortable. Still, after explaining my plans to friends and family, I’ve realized that from the outside of the situation, it’s easy to question and criticize what I’m doing, often with good intentions. They don’t want to see me get hurt. After all, Philly is dangerous and Bob and I have been together for only four months.

In April I found out I’ll be leaving the country for a year on a Fulbright grant in September. This awesome news kick-started my summer planning into a frenzy of summer job applications and summer housing hunts. Bob and I had already talked a little about living together after I finished school, and the Fulbright notification meant that we would only have the summer together before I left for a year. I wanted to seize whatever time I had with him! I must have looked at about forty apartment leads and applied to a dozen summer positions, and somehow it worked out that my only stable job offer coincided with the only successful apartment find.

So here we are now. I wrote this from my Philly apartment. I spent the day driving, moving, cleaning, and rearranging, but eventually I was shower-fresh and waiting for my main man to arrive and see my progress. (He had to work all day and moved in late.) We’re both excited. This little white room in North Philly is a challenge and a chance in our relationship. We’re going to learn a lot about each other, about this city, and about ourselves. Not only will our relationship grow this summer, but so will we as individuals. And I’m not scared of the consequences of any of that growth.

This living situation is risky. I might get hurt or robbed, or maybe my car will get beat up or broken into. It’s risky for my relationship with Bob, too: sharing a small space with anyone will create tension. But tension is healthy. Without it, there would be no balance. Without tension, there’d be no music coming from my guitar! :) So I’ll close this on a musical note with a metaphor. I’m going to play this situation and make sweet music out of it. And I’m going to do it with the man of my dreams… I’m lucky.

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