I’m engaged! I’m joining the married club. Three Mondays ago, my boyfriend finally popped the question on his birthday.
Since then, my magazine rack has filled up with bridal magazines; my colleagues have shared endless ideas for the wedding; and my mom and “future” mom-in-law can’t stop giggling.
It’s an exciting time right now — one that’s bringing many changes.
The biggest change on our horizon is “moving in together.” See, I’m old-school, well, my parents are old-school. Forever, the deal has been no moving in together until a ring is present. What a great daughter I am to have stuck with their deal!
Currently, I rent a house in town with a friend and my fiancé lives in a country farmhouse, where we plan to make our home together ... starting next month.
It’s fun to think about living with my best friend for life — the one who knows all my gossip, all my secrets, all my habits — good and bad.
However, I’ll admit, this move isn’t going to be all flowers and hearts. We’re already looking at a couple humps in the horizon.
One being “Kitty,” my fiancé’s cat. See, I’m not a cat person — never was, never will be. And Kitty is not a human person — never has been, never will be. Obviously, we don’t get along. My fiancé believes he is her savior. He rescued her when she was just a kitten, and she’s grown into a wild beast — nothing close to domesticated. She hunts, climbs and avoids human contact at all costs. The big deal is she scratches and tears apart furniture. While it’s no problem my fiancé’s furniture is torn apart, I fear the thought of moving my own furniture in and it becoming the “new” scratching post. So what do we do about Kitty? Of course, he insists she stay, and I’m adamant about her moving outside. She is an adult cat, therefore cannot be declawed without a sure recovery. While I don’t enjoy Kitty, the last thing I want to see is her suffer from a terrible surgery that was my idea. Thus, the issue continues. We’re in the process of finding a “happy medium.”
The next issue is, country house means rusty water. While my fiancé is too much “a man” to complain about the quality of water, this city girl is not that easy going. I think about rust ruining my precious white clothes, my gorgeous locks turning a weird color and the inconvenience of purchasing bottled water the rest of our lives. My fiancé rolls his eyes at my reasons and thinks I overreact, but I have a feeling this might be one he’s going to have to bend on and call someone to fix because I’m not living with rust.
Our last issue is finding a smooth way to transform his “bachelor pad” into a home. He is 35, which means he’s had plenty of time to create a bachelor pad fortress. My ideas of home decor clash with his ideas. I’m talking about moving the weightlifting equipment from the living room, finding a new place for the gigantic glass jug of pennies and nickels that acts as his kitchen centerpiece and taking down the punching bag hanging in what will be the guest bedroom. All these changes will have to be made slowly and calmly. He isn’t crazy about the punching bag idea, and I know when I purchase new decorations and take down his band posters, it might cause a little bit of pain. It’s going to take work, but we all know women always win this battle. Right?
So these are our humps we’re working on. While we call them issues, we recognize it’s normal and healthy to not agree on everything. People always tell us marriage is going to take work, and from the looks of it, I think we’re already dipping our toes in it. There’s going to be a lot of compromise, needed communication and “happy medium” solutions we both can live with. One of us will have to stand down or give in, but I know we will eventually work it all out. It’s going to make our new life chapter an interesting one.
BCR Staff Writer Goldie Currie can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.