Once again I was innocently riding in my car, the other day, on my way home like normal. And like normal, I stumbled upon this one radio show. Why do I do it to myself? Nothing hardens my morning grits like stupidity. Ever other call is some broad over 35 saying something no woman over 25 would even say. I’m thoroughly convinced that they have someone screening the calls for the craziest broads.
So the show’s topic was shacking up. And I will say that for the 35 minutes I was listening, most of the women were anti-shacking up. I have said time and time again, that in my mis-spent youth, I fell prey. But I was corrected. Apparently, the fact that I had my own spot means that technically I have never cohabitated. Whew.
I was sitting, waiting, wishing you believed in superstitions. Then maybe you’d see the signs. Lord knows that this world is cruel. And I ain’t the lord. I’m just a fool. And in love with somebody don’t make them love you.
How do I feel about shacking up? People shack up for various reasons. Some are economic. Sometimes, it just happens. You’re together all the time, someone’s lease is up and next thing you know, mail with their name is in your mail box. You’re shacking up. Finger-wag! Finger-wag! But all too frequently, shacking up is a man’s way of stalling and a woman’s way of settling for less that what she really wants–marriage. Dude will never admit this to the poor unsuspecting broad though. And for the sake of expostulation, I shall focus on that.
Now, people will say they need to know all these things about you before they can commit to marriage. Well I call a hearty, from my guts, just beside my left ovary: BULLSHYT!!! The radio dude made the point that a lot of people use this logic as an excuse to find some reasons why they don’t have to eventually make the real committment–marriage. I think this probably happens. He’s filthy. She snores. He only has nine toes. She doesn’t fold her towels.
But as I said earlier, shacking is often something done to appease a ring happy woman. Or the woman thinks if she lives with him, often having him move up into her spot, she will grow on him so much that he will spring forth to the nearest Tiffany’s and bling her ring finger out. WTF-ever. She’ll be sitting, waiting, wishing!
Fellas, have a freaking backbone. If you have no immediate plans of marrying this women, do not move in with, ask her to move in with you, or suggest you get a new spot together. Don’t use this mid-way point as a test. Cus when she realizes she’s been living with you for a year and a half, no marriage in sight, she will become bitter and evil and angry. It will affect your whole life-style. Who wants to come home to that BS? Not any sensible person.
I sang your songs. I danced your dance. I gave your friends. all a chance. Putting up with them wasn’t worth never having you. Oh, maybe you’ve been through this before. But it’s my first time, so please ignore the next few lines, cause they’re directed at you.
I firmly believe that all major relationship decisions and standards should be made pre-love. Somewhere in early smitten land. This way, you’re thinking somewhat clearly. Because if you wait until you’re in full throttle love or ring-starved to set standards on major things, in this case shacking up, you’re bound to make the wrong decisions. And getting caught out there having over-compromised your standards for the sake of love. And let me tell you, it’s usually not worth it.
Plus, y’all know with all my Episcopalian guilt (Catholic–light), there’s no way I’d be able to do it without getting a cramp in my stomach everytime I have to lie to my nana and grandmother about the situation. I still do have some shame. Not to mention, I expect a man who wants 24 hour access to me to be willing to give me legal rights to his ass. I don’t want to be the broad who gets a phone call in the middle of the night because his ass is in a coma. You know why?? Because legally, I can’t do shyt. I have no say. His parents are his next of kin. I’m just some b*tch he was living with. I pass. And I won’t even get into the whole credit issue. I’m not messing my shyt up with someone who isn’t legally bound to my ass!!! I worked real hard to bring my post-college credit up to the point where I can walk in anywhere and get damn near anything!!
Bridge
I keep playing your part. But it’s not my scene. Want this plot to twist. I’ve had enough mystery. Keep building it up. Then shooting me down. But I’m already down.
Early on in relationships, when things are all new and great, you have certain discussions. Not necessarily planned, but things seem to just come up. If you’re dealing with someone who finds shacking up acceptable, there are so many ways that you can tell him/her you are BETTER than that. Even if the truth is that you aren’t and that you would consider it, if but for no longer than six months! This way, when the time comes, s/he knows better to even step to you with such a sub-par offer.
Well if I was in your position. I’d put down all my ammunition. I’d wonder why it had taken me so long. But Lord knows that I’m not you and if I was I wouldn’t be so cruel cause waitin’ on love ain’t so easy to do.
Have I seen it work? Sure. But in EVERY single case where it worked and they are currently living happily ever after, they were engaged or got engaged within the first year of living together. Further, two of the cats popped the question so soon as the ring ordered was delivered to the jeweler. Why? Because these men knew what was the right thing to do. Yes, I said it. THE RIGHT THING TO DO!!
Further, my positions on this go back to what I’ve witnessed and how I was raised. There’a a certain order to shyt. I mentioned this just yesterday. And when you go messing with order, you’re shyt is bound to be rocky. Have times change? No. We have tried to force the times to change. But the more we force, the more unsuccessful we are.
Disclaimer: IF some man jedi mind tricks me into living with him, please, for the love of all things right and good, take me to the side and remind me of this post. If I am ever that in love or ring hungry, slap me. Cus for real, I don’t want to be the Starr Jones of the blogesphere with everybody talking bad about me but nobody willing to come out and say anything. Cus y’all know her whole wedding party of all 73 people knew her man was/is gay as Paris in July. Anyway. If I’m still hard-headed, give me six months. By that time, we will either be putting down a deposit on a reception spot, or hosting an old fashion moving party–cus my ass will be out.
*Lyrics from Jack Johnson’s Sitting, Waiting Wishing
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