Here we go again.
Look, I know blogging is so 2005. But I kinda enjoy putting my thoughts down somewhere in a semi-organized way, so get off my back, moooommmm.
And a lot has changed for me since I last did this regularly, a few years ago. I got married, we bought a house, the world went to shit in myriad ways, and a close friend of mine died suddenly. Instead of sitting in an apartment that I'd occupied since Stephen Harper was prime minister, surrounded by furniture and decorations I myself had chosen and arranged, I'm in a house which is still relatively new to me, surrounded by some stuff I bought but a lot of which I didn't, and it's arranged in a way I never would've thought of before.
(Same couch, though. Still comfy. And, I finally fixed the arm that I broke not long after I bought it. Thank you, YouTube, for your many instructional videos.)
So, where do I begin?
Let's start with co-habitation.
Since my wife's parents are pretty traditional, we didn't live together before we got married. This is really, really not how I imagined this playing out: I swore up, down and sideways that I'd live with a woman before getting married. You gotta try before you buy, amirite? You wouldn't buy a car without test-driving it first, why would you do that with life?
And yet, when I look back on how it happened, there's a certain elegance to it. Neither of us is religious, and I'm not telling any tales out of school by saying we knocked boots before saying "I do." But, you know, it really does nicely divide things up: not married, living apart. Married, living together.
(Elegant simplicity is part of the reason I love physics so much. There are a few simple rules, none of which need a lot of explanation, and everything is just built on those. It's delightful.)
From the fall of 2000 through the spring of 2004, I had an apartment-mate that I shared my space with. Various people took the other bedroom (and for a short while it was my friend and his then-girlfriend, later wife, now ex-wife). But, from July of 2004 through August of 2019, it was just me and, for the most part, whoever I managed to bamboozle into sleeping with me.
That's a little over sixteen years of living solo: making my own meals (or eating out when I wanted to), coming and going whenever I felt like it, organizing things in the way I saw fit, and only having to think about myself on a day-to-day basis. There are two things that I concluded about this long stretch of time:
Humans are social creatures. We like to gather together and do things: see a band, go on a camping trip, play board games. Being around other people makes you conform to a certain set of social norms that, for the most part, are beneficial -- or, at the very least, won't hurt you. It makes you behave like a person and not like some god damn weirdo.
Being solo for a long time, though? You make up your own rules, and who knows what direction that'll lead you. Perhaps it's a little more benign and you'll become that person who always hangs around naked at home: there's nothing really wrong with it, but yeah, we're a clothed species, usually. Or perhaps it'll metastasize into something much more sinister: you'll spend hours reading conspiracy theories, and maybe become an "incel" and drive a van down a crowded sidewalk to take out a bunch of women who won't sleep with you.
Now, I don't think I was ever in danger of going down that second route, but I feel like there were parts of me that needed a little straightening-out. Perhaps that would've been achieved by acquiring an apartment-mate, or maybe it actually needed a marriage for it to take place earnestly. I think maybe it was the latter, because if you just have a friend you live with, you can shut the bedroom door and continue to get weird by yourself if you like.
I had a good run for over 16 years, though. Nobody got hurt, the planet was minimally impacted, and I continued being a dutiful son, brother, uncle, friend and colleague, depending on your relation to me. But that man-child part of my life is indeed over, especially if you look at the amount still owing on our mortgage. Ain't nothin' childish about that.
And a lot has changed for me since I last did this regularly, a few years ago. I got married, we bought a house, the world went to shit in myriad ways, and a close friend of mine died suddenly. Instead of sitting in an apartment that I'd occupied since Stephen Harper was prime minister, surrounded by furniture and decorations I myself had chosen and arranged, I'm in a house which is still relatively new to me, surrounded by some stuff I bought but a lot of which I didn't, and it's arranged in a way I never would've thought of before.
(Same couch, though. Still comfy. And, I finally fixed the arm that I broke not long after I bought it. Thank you, YouTube, for your many instructional videos.)
So, where do I begin?
Let's start with co-habitation.
Since my wife's parents are pretty traditional, we didn't live together before we got married. This is really, really not how I imagined this playing out: I swore up, down and sideways that I'd live with a woman before getting married. You gotta try before you buy, amirite? You wouldn't buy a car without test-driving it first, why would you do that with life?
And yet, when I look back on how it happened, there's a certain elegance to it. Neither of us is religious, and I'm not telling any tales out of school by saying we knocked boots before saying "I do." But, you know, it really does nicely divide things up: not married, living apart. Married, living together.
(Elegant simplicity is part of the reason I love physics so much. There are a few simple rules, none of which need a lot of explanation, and everything is just built on those. It's delightful.)
From the fall of 2000 through the spring of 2004, I had an apartment-mate that I shared my space with. Various people took the other bedroom (and for a short while it was my friend and his then-girlfriend, later wife, now ex-wife). But, from July of 2004 through August of 2019, it was just me and, for the most part, whoever I managed to bamboozle into sleeping with me.
That's a little over sixteen years of living solo: making my own meals (or eating out when I wanted to), coming and going whenever I felt like it, organizing things in the way I saw fit, and only having to think about myself on a day-to-day basis. There are two things that I concluded about this long stretch of time:
- It's simple.
- It might ruin you.
Humans are social creatures. We like to gather together and do things: see a band, go on a camping trip, play board games. Being around other people makes you conform to a certain set of social norms that, for the most part, are beneficial -- or, at the very least, won't hurt you. It makes you behave like a person and not like some god damn weirdo.
Being solo for a long time, though? You make up your own rules, and who knows what direction that'll lead you. Perhaps it's a little more benign and you'll become that person who always hangs around naked at home: there's nothing really wrong with it, but yeah, we're a clothed species, usually. Or perhaps it'll metastasize into something much more sinister: you'll spend hours reading conspiracy theories, and maybe become an "incel" and drive a van down a crowded sidewalk to take out a bunch of women who won't sleep with you.
Now, I don't think I was ever in danger of going down that second route, but I feel like there were parts of me that needed a little straightening-out. Perhaps that would've been achieved by acquiring an apartment-mate, or maybe it actually needed a marriage for it to take place earnestly. I think maybe it was the latter, because if you just have a friend you live with, you can shut the bedroom door and continue to get weird by yourself if you like.
I had a good run for over 16 years, though. Nobody got hurt, the planet was minimally impacted, and I continued being a dutiful son, brother, uncle, friend and colleague, depending on your relation to me. But that man-child part of my life is indeed over, especially if you look at the amount still owing on our mortgage. Ain't nothin' childish about that.
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