Living Together

ELIZABETH ROSE

“In the old days, one married a wife; now one forms a company with a female partner, or moves in to live with a friend. And then one seduces the partner, or defiles the friend.” – J. August Strindberg

This may come as a surprise to my readers, but I have moved in with a previous lover. I am actually all in favour of moving in together (possibly as I travel for work such a lot it doesn’t necessarily limit my polyamorous opportunities).

It was great. The benefits of a live in lover were more than I ever expected. Besides the convenience of sex on tap there is the wonder of a shared income. Suddenly you can afford those new Manolo pumps or to splurge out on a custom made dancing pole / sex swing for the bedroom.

Then there is the bliss of domesticity. If you didn’t already have a housekeeper, with a little bit of training you will soon! I found rewarding successful completion of chores with sexual favours meant my ironing was done to a professional standard, the bathroom cleaned almost daily and the fridge always stocked hummus and a wide selection of British cheese.

It’s also more practical – I saved a considerable amount of time not having to pack overnight bags, or completing “the walk of shame” late on a Sunday. If I had social plans for an evening, I still got to see both him and his ever accommodating hard-on at the end of the night.

However, there was, is and always shall be a downside to all these wondrous facets of living together; setting up a home.

If you are moving in after having made the life time mistake commitment of marriage, chances are you will have a pile of  wedding gifts, which will include household goods and furniture. If you are living in sin – you’re on your own.

Unfortunately this translates as shopping together. Trying to combine both your tastes and existing possessions into something chic and demonstrative as your style as a couple. This means arguing, this means storming off in car parks, this means assembling flat pack furniture. This means IKEA on a Saturday.

Hell hath no place I fear as much as a Saturday in a furniture shop. A petty fight over the number of Billy bookshelves or the need for a leather recliner will see my will to live exiting out the nearest open window.

He will never be as attractive again after he has revealed his poor taste in crockery / soft furnishings / hotel lobby style artwork. All that sex on demand wasted on you now you know what a cretin he is following “Stereo-gate”. (Inevitably he wants a ridiculously overpriced home entertainment system – it’s genetically programmed in them to waste money on ways to watch porn with surround sound and in HD)

So my advice is simple – live together and enjoy it, but for the sake of your sex life get him to move in with you and avoid any form of household shopping together. And I do mean any – not just furniture. Even food shopping should be performed as a solo activity. Otherwise you will find yourself in a canned goods aisle repeatedly removing alphabetti spaghetti tins from the shopping cart. This will be accompanied by a soundtrack of expletives that would make a sailor blush.

Bookmark It