Archives for posts with tag: love

bedroomI have a theory. Three rooms. Three rooms is what two people need to survive in a relationship. It is why I can confidently say my past co-habitation attempts didn’t work. It wasn’t me or us. It was math. Simply not enough rooms.

When I tell people this theory, they assume I mean a number of things that I don’t, such as that three rooms counts the kitchen, living and bathrooms. Three is in fact the number of bedrooms. Three rooms with windows and closets.

Why three?

Because one you share. Room one is your romantic cohabitation. It is the place you refer to when you say you love coming home to someone at night and waking up with them. It is the place you will speak of when you say how you didn’t sleep well because someone was snoring, sneezing, coughing, turning, or being otherwise disruptive. It is where you will have to agree on the furniture and bedding. The one where your clothes will also live. And where no one can get mad at you for being naked, any time of day.

Room two is my room. This is where I’m going to store things I probably should get rid of. I might read here. I might have long phone conversations here. I might start arts and crafts project here and leave them in a state of 25% completion without any progress for months at a time. I can play any music I want in here, even if it’s slightly audible in other rooms. I’m not required to vacuum or dust this room. I can come here when I’m not feeling well. I can come here when I want to feel nostalgic and pretend this is my childhood room, a room where my whole life was housed.

Room three: his room. This is where he will do man things but not like lifting weights because we have a gym membership for that. He will do computer things. He might read. He might make phone calls. He may start a project or two or three. And he will finish them in a timely manner because he’s much better at this than I am. He might want to keep a collection here or start a collection here. And hopefully it won’t outgrow the room. But oh, too late- it has. And that’s ok too.

Having one’s own space is luxurious. I know it’s not something everyone can do or something that everyone would want. But I love the space.Space to miss each other. Space to visit. Space to organize and reorganize or not organize at all.Space to take a pause or take a nap. Space to feel a spectrum of emotions in the stillness and silence of your own breath. Space to bounce off the walls. Space immerse in true self. Space to appreciate space. Space to appreciate everything.

winter_loveI was recently at a party and the topic of dating came up. I overheard one of my close friends telling a woman, “You should talk to Rachael. She’s a dating EXPERT.” I was quick to interject, “I’m not an expert.” Though I have dated a lot and documented my experiences. So I’m at least a “dating enthusiast.”

What I found in my “research” was that the best time to meet potential suitors is during winter. One of the coldest nights of my dating project resulted in three phone number acquisitions. So it’s not just a hunch. Winter means opportunity.

I say this because winter also means cold and slush and despair and overeating and guilt about not going to the gym enough. It’s boots and chapped lips and google searches for “Mexico all-inclusive.” But it is also bars with twinkle lights, fireplaces, cashmere sweaters, and drinks that warm and replenish. Most importantly, winter inspires a longing for togetherness.

You may argue, “But summer is romance and walks on the beach and kisses at midnight and margaritas on decks.” And I will argue that summer is more lust than love. It is carefree and barefoot and sex with the door open (as my neighbor across the alley has decided) and a time for abundance of people and plans. It is not about focus and it is not about monogamy. It is festivals and parties and that lazy nostalgic summer vacation feeling where we haven’t a care in the world. A care like wanting to have a partner, pursuing a meaningful connection and building a future. I’m not saying it’s impossible to find love in the summer, it’s just more likely in the winter.

Here is my winter vision: Men who love the way your scarf grazes your face and and how your cheeks get rosy from the wind. Sitting close, talking for hours and prolonging the inevitable chilly trip home. Walking arms entwined. Snowflakes. A skating date around the ribbon. A trip to the aquarium. Hot chocolate. Beer flights. Sharing warm chocolate lava cake.

Take it or leave it- winter is the shit for love.